#like idk maybe he has done something terrible and i just haven’t reached that part of one piece

[moikey-croikey]

ep 473 of op: guys why is whitebeard so kind and fatherly :,,,((

even after squard stabbed him, even after squard betrayed him and believed a lie about him that goes against his character, he still gives him a hug and considers him a son ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

“who took your loyal and steadfast heart away from your father and delivered it into the hands of our enemy”

“but listen to me, it’s ridiculous to lay the blame on a child for the sins of his father. did ace ever do a thing to hurt you?”

“every single one of you is part of my family”

i damn near dropped to my knees and cried in the middle of the student union

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings  @thaticecreambish  @hee-hee-haw  @dearnataliealoveletter  @wasteofspacze  @dcml04  @bbigbbrainn  @dirtydiavolo  @vanhakirja  @rinzyx05  @misselsbells06  @ialexabsuniverse  @im-a-depressed-gay  @energy-drinkk  @mothra-main  @i-need-hugs  @dragons-lurk-here  @katj733  @m4r-s  @vievi  @dykeragee  @waterstrawberry  @aplaintart  @kakamiissad  @myunfinishedsymphony  @nagitokinnieissad  @autumnpleaves  @justanothergirlwithdemons  @zachariethememerie  @moon-asia  @m0on-blue  @strawberrysodababy  @akikko-yataro  @haikkeiji  @shiningsunrises  @cinnamonmochi  @queen-turtle-boiii  @imanewsoul  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelicaschuyler-church  @vixenfoxpup  @ella-ivanov  @shio-yuki  @mosstea-png  @ijustshatbricks

[keijislove]

Dance the Night Away: Peter Parker X Reader

A/N: This ain’t following any particular timeline – let’s just say... idk, after Far from Home, maybe?

WARNING: use of the ‘P’ word (Flash being Flash)

Peter walked down the hallway amidst the chatter, trying to reach his locker as the crowd grew thicker and thicker, making it impossible for him to even see properly. Which was until a hand seized his wrist and pulled him through, letting go of him as he smashed into the storage compartment with force enough to make his brains rattle.

“Oops, sorry,” you said with a sheepish smile.

Peter had turned to thank whoever it was, but, catching sight of you, he groaned. Not that he didn’t like you – you and Peter had been best friends since you were eight years old. Recently, however, a banner had been put up by the senior girls announcing that prom would be taking place the following Saturday. And with only about five days left, you had taken to pestering Peter into going, hoping that if you’d fling the question unexpectedly, Peter would get scared into answering. You had, however, no luck so far.

“Y/N, I know what you’re going to say,” Peter warningly began, “And I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But I wanna say it,” you said, “And that I shall. Peter, come on! It’s a crucial life experience! I mean, you’re studying all the time these days, and I get it, you have a clear view of your future, and I’m happy for you. But pleeeaaaaaaase, just do it for me? It’s one night, Peter, come on! One night where you have to let go and just have fun! After that, we can go back to making circuit boards together like we used to, but just this once? C’mon, don’t tell me you’re turning me down.”

As you took a deep breath after this whole rant and Peter took one look at your sincere smile, he sighed.

“... Fine,” he mumbled.

Your eyes grew wide. Surely you’d misheard?

“What?” you asked, “Louder, please?”

“Fine!” Peter bellowed loudly so that a dozen heads turned in your direction and people began snickering.

Not caring in the least, you flashed a wide smile before engulfing Peter into a huge hug, speaking, “Thank you so much! It’ll be the best experience of your life, Peter!”

“Yes, that means better than your spiderman stuff,” you whispered in an undertone as Peter said a disbelieving, “Come on!”

Needless to say, you had finally convinced Peter to go to prom. Now came the hard part. Truth was, you had liked Peter since you were both, what, fourteen? Convincing Peter to go to prom was a task for the strong, but asking him to be your date? No way would he feel the same. Peter had never ever hinted, that your relationship could be more. In fact, he felt rather frantic to prove it couldn’t be more – something that convinced you that you did not belong together and that, someday, you would have to get over this silly little crush. Still, seeing Peter go to prom with any girl who made him happy was enough for you.

“Right, now that we’re going,” you said the following morning, when he’d found you standing next to his locker, waiting for him to arrive.

Peter sighed, “Mm hmm?”

“We need dates,” you ignored his disinterest.

“Do you have one?” asked Peter.

“It.... it’s complicated,” you muttered.

Peter crossed his arms, “Listening.”

You shot him a glare before sighing and telling him, “There’s... there’s this boy I like. I was really hoping he would ask me to homecoming back then, and I turned down anybody who asked me just to chase that blind belief. Guess what? He didn’t ask me. And I know he won’t now, but I don’t know... something inside me still hopes he would.”

“So, you’re scared to say yes to anyone in case he asked you but scared to say no to everyone in case he doesn’t ask you?” Peter clarified, causing you to laugh.

“Sounds about right.” you muttered, “But hey, enough about me, what about you? We need a date for you. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Not really,” Peter shrugged.

“Okay....” you said slowly, “Well, I’ll just list off people you would be happy with as they come to my mind... maybe you can ask one of them.”

“Fire away.”

“Okay... well, there’s Emma Jones from my biology class,” you began, “And she’s really nice.”

“Not my type.”

“Oh,” you frowned, “Okay... Alyssa from P.E?”

“The one who said spiderman sucks? No thanks.”

“Zoe from English?”

“Nope.”

“Ava from chemistry lab?”

“Meh.”

“... MJ?” you asked in defeat as Peter incredulously looked at you (A/N: sorry MJ, I love you <3).

“Okay, fine,” you snapped, “I’m done helping. Let me know if you find someone?”

Peter gave another nod as the two of you made your way to class.

------

You were panicking. Two days were all that were left, and so far, you had turned down countless boys including Flash Gordon who had swore and made rude hand gestures at you as a way to handle rejection. You didn’t know what was wrong – why was this impossible hope of Peter asking you still clouding your possibilities of a relationship?

Peter knew nothing of this – yet he annoyed you. If he was too blind to notice that you were madly in love with him, why did the very sight of his face make your brain go empty?

Now with one day left and nobody to ask you, you slumped moodily throughout the day, not talking and sitting silently at lunchtime, stabbing your potatoes pretending that it was your feelings for Peter.

“Okay you’re freaking me out now,” Peter said as the two of you were walking home and you still hadn’t opened your mouth.

“No date – again. God, this is just like homecoming,” you groaned.

Peter looked surprised.

“I thought a lot of guys asked you?”

“They did!” you moaned, “It’s just – that guy, I don’t know why he has this effect on me. It’s like – we weren’t meant to be together or maybe I wasn’t meant to go out with anyone ever.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” said Peter with something new in his expression. Behind the terribly unconvincing ‘concerned best friend’ mask, you saw a flicker of something... smugness? No, you were dreaming. You hadn’t eaten all day – this was probably a side-effect.

“You know what, I’m gonna grab a sandwich at Delmar’s,” you muttered, “I haven’t eaten since morning. Do you want to come?”

“Sorry, I promised May I’d come home,” he sheepishly said, “She wanted me to go get an outfit with her.”

“Oh,” you snickered, “Good luck with that. See you tomorrow!”

“See you.”

And with a heavy heart, you walked away from your only chance of having the person you cared about most as your date to prom.

--------

“Oh god, what was I thinking?” you muttered, staring the reflection of you in a(n) F/C dress with your hair styled <inert preferred style here>.

“This is stupid!” you said to no one in particular, before taking a deep breath and walking to the apartment across from yours and knocking on the door.

The door opened to reveal Peter.

“Oh, good you’re here, this will take just a second, May wants to –” he stopped abruptly, staring at you with eyes round as saucers.

“Um,” you began, he still kept staring.

“Earth to Peter, you still in there?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face as he blinked and turned a delicate shade of red.

“You – you look nice,” he managed to choke out.

“Thanks...?” you said, walking inside and taking a seat on the couch.

“Okay, um, M-may will take us there in her c-car, she’ll be h-here any moment, let’s just w-wait.”

“Pete, you having a stroke or something?” you asked in concern.

“No, I’m fine.” (A/N: he’s not 😉)

As if she had sensed Peter’s need to be rescued, Aunt May came walking into the room. She stopped at the sight of her nephew staring slightly at you, who was examining a coffee mug on the table. Smiling to herself, she cleared her throat.

Both of you jumped in surprise.

“We’re ready to go,” May stated, as the two of you got to your feet, following her to the car.

----------

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?” you asked, looking at the doors of your school gym which were closed ominously.

“Why?” asked Peter in surprise, “I thought you wanted to go?”

“I do,” you admitted, “But – we don’t have dates, it’ll look so... lame.”

Peter scoffed, “Y/N, do you really need the dimwits that attend this school to justify how many cool points you have?”

“Not exactly,” you said in surprise, feeling slightly better.

“Yeah, come on, let’s just do it. Together, okay?” asked Peter as you nodded.

You both took nervous, deep breaths before pushing the doors open to reveal the commotion inside.

--------

You two were walking across the gym, interestedly examining the decorations ang pulling faces at the couples which were making out, till you bumped into something hard.

“OOF!” you groaned, falling to the floor.

“You okay?” Peter asked hurriedly, pulling you to your feet. As you both turned to look who it was, you were surprised to see Flash standing there with his mouth hanging open.

“No way,” he said, gaping, “HEY EVERYONE, LOOK! IT’S DATELESS L/N AND PENIS PARKER!”

You groaned as a million heads turned your way and slowly, the laughter broke out, jeers of the obscene names Flash had called you now echoing off the walls.

“Haha, real funny, Flash,” Peter said sarcastically, but once he saw your near-tears expression, he seized your wrist and pulled you out of the gym into the open.

“Come on,” he pacifyingly said, “Don’t cry over him, Y/N! He’s not worth it.”

“This is homecoming all over again,” you groaned, struggling to contain your tears, “School dances were never meant for me. Let’s just – let’s just go home and finish making that model spaceship we were working on.”

“Sounds like a worthwhile night to me,” Peter shrugged, tossing a brave smile your way, “You don’t need prom to be happy, you know. Let’s go.”

And so the two of you walked home, talking amongst yourselves, being the best friends you’d been since eight.

Best friends.

The sound of that word made your blood boil hot. How naïve were you? This was absolutely perfect – a million guys on the planet and you chose to fall for one who would never see you the same way.

As your apartment building came closer, Peter cleared his throat and spoke, “Wait in the living room with May for ten minutes. I have a surprise for you.”

“Seriously?” you asked, taken aback.

“Yeah, why not?”

“What is it?” you asked curiously.

Peter cocked an eyebrow.

“Kinda missing the point of a surprise if I told you what it was.”

“Makes sense,” you agreed, “Okay, but make it quick. I’m dying of curiosity.”

“You’ll live for another ten minutes,” Peter assured you.

Your curiosity was now bubbling to the surface like boiling water threatening to spill. You thought of what Peter could possibly have to surprise you, and you stopped to sit on a couch in the living room next to Peter’s aunt.

After exhausting every possibility (each as unlikely as the next), Peter finally dragged you ti the door of his room.

“... I’ve seen your room before, you know,” you laughed slightly.

“That’s not the surprise,” Peter playfully rolled his eyes, “Okay, close your eyes.”

“Jesus, Peter,” you snorted as his hands placed themselves over your eyes, “You are such a drama queen.”

“Open them... now!”

And you opened your eyes to see that the usual clutter surrounding Peter’s room had been cleared away, leaving some space for god-knows-what in the middle of it.

“Wow, you finally cleaned your room!” you exclaimed, “That is a surprise.”

“That’s still not the surprise!” Peter whined, “C’mere.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you close as your brain clouded with confusion. What the heck was going on?

Peter threw his phone aside as a light waltz began playing through the air. Peter placed one hand on your waist and the other one to grab yours as your confusion cleared away.

“You said you wanted to go to prom,” Peter stated as you two swayed on the spot, moving slightly to the music, “You didn’t say where. Now we’re away from judgy eyes, we can be weird.”

“Seriously, Peter?” you giggled at his dorkiness, “I never knew you were so cute.”

The words had slipped from your mouth before you had time to think them through. You were praying he didn’t hear you, but a hitch in his breath made your heart drop.

“You – you think I’m cute?” Peter asked, blushing furiously.

“Well,” you sighed, there was no backing out of this, “... Yeah, I do.”

You looked down, refusing to meet his eyes.

“And the guy you wanted to get asked by...?” Peter didn’t need to finish his question; he knew you understood.

“Yes,” you whispered, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes once more.

You sucked in a deep breath and looked up, “Look, Peter, I know you don’t feel the same and it’s honestly okay –”

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled, his lips brushing over yours. Your lips brushed together a few times as the both of you melted into the addicting sensation, not aware of the surroundings, not caring in the least. To Peter, all that mattered in that moment, was you.

You two pulled apart after a while, both blushing like crazy with no idea what to do next. It was you who spoke first, shyly.

“I – I think it’s a good thing we’re alone right now. That would be an embarrassing yearbook photo.”

[tryingmydarndest]

Thank You (Luka Couffaine x Reader)

Summary (Part 1/probably 3): The author goes on a bit of a tangent about how Y/N goes on a bit of a tangent about Viperion. Who may just have a little, big ol' crush on them?

Tags: -not enough actual relationship -fluff -but like, a weird sprinkling of angst that I didn't plan on right at the end???

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Inspired by this fic by @seriously-sirius-black <3. Luka? OOC? Idk, probably, I don’t write fanfic. But I am actually kinda proud of how well Alya turned out. Writing this made me realize how much of a mom friend I apparently headcanon her as. I wrote this gender-and-as-everything-else-neutral as I can make it (lemme know if you see ways I can improve, tho idk how much more fanfic I'll even be writing). Also, I freakin' RAMBLE and overuse italics, but ya get what ya get and ya don't gotta fret. Ooh, important note for future parts (if i write them) - this is a kinda!au where the miraculous users keep their miraculous. also if I had a nickel for every time I get awkwardly specific about the placement of both of a character’s hands I’d have TWO nickels. Happy reading!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Part I - Paris's Cutiest Heroes

The look currently on Marinette’s face as she sputtered out a response was priceless, “Cat Noir? Cat Noir!? What makes you think I’d find Cat Noir attractive at all? And- and- HIM- the cutest superhero! Ridiculous!”

“Utterly ridiculous?”

“Nice one, Alya”

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” you gave Alya a high five on your way to your seat next to Juleka and Rose on the couch facing Marinette and Alya. A sunny Friday after school was the perfect place for Kitty Section and their entourage to hang out. Unfortunately without Ivan and Mylène, seeing as their anniversary called for a private celebration. After pushing a couple couches onto the deck of The Liberty, Alya had predictably started talking about Paris's resident hero team. Today, she chose to ask everyone who they deemed the cutest, and she made sure to jump on Marinette's... interesting response, “And girl, he has the same silky golden hair and dreamy emerald eyes as Adrien Agreste. What’s utterly ridiculous is you freaking out and dodging every time we bring up superheroes!”

The designated snack-boy, Luka, walked out precariously carrying three bowls of goodies for everyone, “Alright, I got more popcorn. Sorry, but looks like we’re out of cheese flavoring, Y/N”

“Oh... that’s fine. I honestly wasn’t expecting it since I forgot to ask,” your free hand not reaching for the bowl rubbed the back of your neck, “but thanks for remembering.”

“Oh, um yeah- Always," is it creepy to remember something so specific? Someone as nice as Y/N wouldn't be interested in some creep. Ugh. Luka took a seat with his own bowl after passing Alya and Marinette theirs. He ended up next to you on the floor, leaning against the arm of the couch, dangerously close to touching your legs.

Rose reached for the popcorn as she interjected, “You know, Alya does have a point. So Marinette, why don’t you just tell us who you think the cutest superhero is, if you don’t like us guessing?”

Somehow Marinette’s face went even paler as she spoke, “What- I mean, I don’t- I haven’t thought- Wha- what about Y/N? Why aren’t you interrogating them?”

Alya crossed her arms, “Because Y/N says the same thing about the same hero every day. Just watch. Ahem, Y/N, care to weigh in on the cuteness level of our lovely Parisian superheroes?”

You looked up from the bowl you had stolen back from Rose with wide eyes, "Hey! Okay, no, that is not fair! Besides, what is our criteria for 'cute'? I mean... Are we going just by physical characteristics? Is costume a factor? What about the animal they're representing, could our opinion of that make this whole thing unfair? And cuteness is so subjective anyway... Why are we even reducing these amazing and honorable superheroes to just their looks? I mean we could be talking about skill, or their powers or power lev-"

"-And your answer would be exactly the same. Seriously, are you done trying- and might I add, failing- to talk yourself out of this one yet? Or should I just read the article you wrote for the Ladyblog?"

"You said you deleted that!"

Luka had perked his head up at your initial fumbling response and turned to you when he spoke, "You wrote an article? That's pretty cool."

You rubbed your face to try and distract yourself from the burning embarrassment, "Umm, yeah. But it was terrible and extremely not. worth. publishing." You hoped the glare you sent the girl in question was enough to scare her into deleting it on the spot, or to at least lie about it, "So Alya kindly deleted it, right?"

Sitting up with a smug look and crossed arms severely lowered your faith that she'd keep quiet. "A good journalist archives everything. Especially something as juicy as one of her besties going on for five thousand words about how dreamy the great Viperion is," dramatically fake-fainting into Marinette's lap, Alya could barely finish before bursting out in laughter. Of course, quickly followed by the others joining in to varying degrees. Juleka and Rose happily giggled to themselves, Marinette looked more relieved that the heat was off her, and Luka seemed to be shocked, or maybe just holding back to see how you were taking this.

Horribly. Horribly embarrassed would describe how you were taking this conversation. You sat there stock-still as you hoped that none of the others could hear your heart's desperate attempts to pound its way out of your chest. That's certainly all you could hear, at least until Alya's voice brought you out of it, "Hey, it's fine," she made her way over to sit next to you as she continued, "We all have our little hero crushes. That's why I bring it up all the time, to show you that it's totally normal! I mean, we all know how I could go on about Carapace for days," Alya gestured for the others to continue, and used her other hand to try and comfort you.

"Well, I find Ladybug to be just absolutely adorable and so kind.... oh it just makes me so happy knowing she's keeping all of Paris safe," Rose added softly.

Juleka brushed a strand of hair aside as she spoke, "Rena Rouge is super mysterious, pretty rad in my opinion."

Alya was rubbing your back like the mom friend she is to try and help encourage you, "See? Super normal, so go ahead and release all this pent up Viperion energy that I know you have. Maybe it'll encourage Marinette here to finally join in the fun!" Alya stuck her tongue out at her best friend, who responded promptly by smashing her face into a pillow.

You just sighed, "I mean- it’s- it can't just-'' were you supposed to just get over it all just like that? Well, at least the embarrassment was wearing off, maybe you could just entertain her for a bit, "Well- um, you see.... HisHairJustLooksReallySoftAnd- you know what. Nope. Can't do anymore of this. Yep- that's all you're getting out of me!" This time when everyone started giggling, you were able to comfortably join them. It was a nice feeling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A nice evening chilling out with your friends was always welcome, especially with the rising number of akumatizations making that less possible. But the night had come to a close. Alya and Marinette went home, Juleka was walking Rose back herself, and Luka and you had volunteered to clean up. Luka stopped drying the cup in his hand for a minute as he looked at you, “Um, I know it might not be my place, but I want you to know that you don’t have to be embarrassed about the whole... Viperion thing.” God, how am I supposed to take the news that MY crush has a crush on.... Sort of me? Am I supposed to count it as me at all?

“Oh, um. Yeah, thanks. I think I’m over the embarrassment now that it’s out. I don’t know, it’s just that a lot of people think it’s weird since he’s kind of a new hero,” how are you supposed to explain this to him? That you kept such a non-issue secret from him, especially without getting suspiciously defensive about it. “And then people use that to try and say that I only like him for his looks..... And that’s not it! I don’t know, it’s kind of.... A lot? To explain, that is.” This was not going well.

“Oh... Well, what is it? That you like about him, I guess.”

This was so not going well. But he was waiting for a response so... “Uh, well I guess it did kinda start..... that way.... but then I started doing research. I learned about his power and saw videos of his fights. He’s really good! Especially for being so new, which kinda goes into why his power makes me like him so much.” Shit. Rambling, I’m just talking and talking and I need to stop. But how am I supposed to change the subject now? And now Luka’s sitting down, and he seems so invested. Why does this have to happen to me?

“What do you mean by that?”

Luka’s voice kindly shuts your little thought-spiral in its tracks. What were you saying? Oh, Viperion’s powers! You can talk about this, you know this. Just keep talking, at least he seems interested in it, “Well, you know how he can go back and redo the last couple of minutes?” Luka nodded, “Well, we always see the time that worked out. Us civilians get to keep going from the one time it all went right. Just imagine all the times he failed, all the times he couldn’t get it right. It could be dozens, maybe even hundreds of times! He must get so discouraged at some point, I mean I know I would.... I guess I didn’t really think about it at first, but.... but, I doubt I could keep that determination, and I’m so glad Paris has a hero who can, and does.”

Silence. Why was it so quiet? Oh no, he thinks I’m weird. He must think-

“All of this from ‘his hair looks soft’?”

“Hey! You can’t tell me not to be embarrassed, then make fun of me! That’s against the rules!”

Luka chuckled as he said, “Against what rules, exactly?”

“The Rules Of Best Friendship, duh!”

“And who exactly said you were my best friend?”

“Well... your loss, I guess. Now you won’t get an invitation when I plan Rose and Juleka’s wedding,” you brushed off his offended glare as you took the seat next to him.

“She’s my sister.”

“She’d take my side.”

I’d take your side, too. I will always take your side. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

A/N the sequel: I am super bad at finishing things, but I really wanna keep motivated to finish this (like I have a full, probably 3 part, plan for this). If you guys want to help, shoot me a message and I'll send you a link to the google doc I'm writing this on. Feel free to leave a little comment (pls be kind, obviously) and see my writing process! Idk, would any of you guys be interested in that? Would you just get annoyed at having already read the thing before I post it?

[bokukawas]

Drunken Mess

pairing; Kuroo Tetsuro  x Reader

warnings; alcohol, suggestive in the end, some grabbing from some random stranger

a/n; ok guys, enjoy, this took me forever to write and idk, i just hope someone here likes it ♥

summary; when you have a shitty day and then your boyfriend presses all the wrong buttons upon his return , you just need a little alcohol to keep your sanity… and maybe have a drink too much

word count; 6k, I actually planned to keep this short. WELL HUH jokes on me, right? 

The only thing that got you through the day was the thought, that when you came home later, your boyfriend would be back from his training camp with his team. Because, seriously, today had sucked. You had to take a double shift at work, because a colleague had called in sick and all the customers had just been annoying and rude. You had expected working in retail to suck, but compared to the reality your imagination was a fucking dream come true. Retail was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. And no one could truly understand it if they haven’t worked in retail at least once in their life.

By the time you could clock out, you were nearly crying from frustration. You were so eager to see Kuroo and leave your work; you nearly ran the whole way home.

When you finally arrived home, you could already see light seep out from under the door, which meant he actually was home already. Your heart made an involuntarily somersault as you pushed the door open and yelled “I’m home!” with a huge smile plastered on your face. You had missed him terribly. Yet instead of your boyfriends loving arms around you, you just found the mess he somehow managed to produce in less than a day. Your smile slipped just as fast as it had appeared. “Kuroo, what the actual fuck!?” No answer to that.

You could see him, lying on the couch, one leg slung over the back of it, controller in one hand, a piece of pizza in the other, headset on his head, while he cackled. He didn’t even seem to hear you. And damn it stung. You waited the whole day with dinner so you could eat together with your boyfriend. And not only that, you had cleaned the whole house before he returned, so you could just relax together once he was back, hell, you even dumped your friends who wanted to go out and have a girls night, and this was how it turns out?

With watering eyes, you inspected the spectacular mess in front of you. Eyes flicking from the kitchen, where he obviously already made ramen before he ordered pizza, to the living room where the whole content of his sports bag seems to just have been dumped on the floor. Then to the bathroom, where the door was open and showed the still wet tiles and a towel carelessly thrown in the middle of it, fog still clinging to the mirror, because he once again had not opened the goddamn window.

In that moment all you could feel inside of you, was burning anger and huge disappointment. It was not the first time you had asked him to just please be a little bit more considerate of you. Why didn’t he fucking get it? The damn flat didn’t magically clean itself; it was all you who did it. The mess he made in literally only a few hours felt like a punch in the face.

Clenching your fist, you angrily throw your bag into the mess he already made, which seemed to finally get his attention. Head popping up from the couch, he pulled down his headset a bit and looks over to you: “Oh hey kitten, didn’t hear you come home.”

“Yeah never mind”, you spit, “continue your thing there, I’m gonna be gone soon anyways.”

You slip out of your sneakers, phone already in your hand to call one of your friends.

“S’ something wrong, kitten?” Kuroo sets down his headset, mustering you with concern in his eyes. Obviously something was wrong, but his brain still felt foggy with exhaustion from all the training he had pushed himself and his team through this week.

The answer came in the slamming of the bedroom door, where you had disappeared.

He sighs and briefly puts his headset back on to give his friends a heads up: “Guys, I’ll be back later, seems like somethings wrong with Y/N”, then he left the game and stood up, slowly walking to your shared bedroom, before he tentatively knocks on the door.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Did something happen at work? Are you alright?” Upon not getting an answer, he pushed down the latch, only to find that you had locked the door. He silently swears. It had to be bad when you actually locked him out. “C’mon hun, don’t be like that. Talk to me.” Door rattling followed, which you blatantly ignore.

You were sitting on the bed, which was, of fucking course, not made any more and stripped out of your work clothes, throwing them carelessly on the floor. The damage was already done, what bad could your few clothes be then, right?

It was then, that Miwa finally picked up. “Oh hey, Y/n, whats up? I thought you were having some quality time with Kuroo?” You could hear loud voices talking in the back; she must have gone outside to answer your call.

“Yeah you know what? I thought so, too. Plan has changed, though. Where are you? Mind if I join you? I need a drink.”

“Are you alright, Y/n? You sound a little upset?”

“Miwa, for god’s sake, just tell me where you are so I can join you. I’m going to explode if I stay here any minute longer.”

You could hear Miwa sigh into the phone. “That bad, huh? We’re at our usual place.”

“Good, I’ll be there in twenty.” You hang up and throw your phone into the pillow and start rummaging through your closet, finding one of the dresses you like very much, but never actually wear, because it is actually very short. Well, fuck it, you think to yourself and put it on, together with your new high heels. Quickly freshening up your smudged make-up, you grab your keys and your clutch and brace yourself for your escape. Because that was exactly what you were doing: escaping from this whole mess.

Then, you unlock the door and push it open, marching straight for the door, which was, of course, blocked by your boyfriend, who was leaning against it and now eyeing you from head to toe. He probably had heard you talk to Miwa and taken his position at the door right away. He did not comment on your outfit though, having the good sense to know he was walking on very thin ice.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’m going out with my friends. At least I would like to, but someone is standing in the way. Do you mind?” You look up at him and give him one of your perfect angelic smiles as you try to squeeze through. Even though you were wearing your heels, your boyfriend was a goddamn giant and he somehow managed to still be taller, which was mildly frustrating at the moment.

He does not budge; not even an inch.

“Are we not going to talk about what is going on? Because something clearly is going on.”

“I’d actually rather go right now.”

Kuroo could basically feel the passive aggressive energy radiating from you, but still, he didn’t budge. He didn’t even have the chance to talk to you yet, what could he possibly have done to upset you so much that you could not even stand to be in the same room as him? It was a mystery to him.

“Y/n, please.” He reaches out a hand to brush a thumb against your cheek, because he knows how much you always enjoy these little affectionate gestures, but he stops right in his tracks, when he found you staring at him with barely withhold anger. He was surprised that you did not swat at his still outstretched hand.

“Move Kuroo, I mean it.” And when you try to squeeze through this time, he lets you.

You were rarely in such a bad mood and he knew when he needed to let you cool off, first. As you walk by him, he catches your wrist in the last second, holding you still for a moment. “At least send me a text when you get there, alright?” he whispers while brushing his thumb once over your veins and then lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against the palm of it.

The urge to just turn around and press your head into your boyfriends’ chest right then was overwhelming, but you were still so mad that you stubbornly continued on your way, leaving Kuroo standing there, watching you go.

When he turns around to go back into the flat, he feels like a train hit him as he takes in the mess he made. “Oh fuck.” He groans as he ruffles his spiky hair, because how could he be so stupid. Of course you would be mad if you came home to such a mess. The worst part was, that he didn’t even contain his chaos in one room, no, he seriously fucked up the whole flat, which by second thought, you had probably cleaned just hours before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your foul mood suddenly made sense to him. Groaning again, he closes the door behind him and goes to the kitchen. He better gets rid of this whole mess before you come home later. But first, he wants to apologize. Fishing out his phone out of his joggers, he opens the chat with you and freezes all over again. There it was, black on white. Dinner later, Tetsu? We can order from your fav restaurant if you like ♥

Oh sweet fucking hell, he was the biggest douche in the whole wide world. How could he forget that you two wanted to eat together? “Ah shit.”

He types out a quick message to you. Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m the biggest idiot in the world. You can punch me later if you still feel like it. I sure as hell deserve it. Pls text me when you get there safely. I love you.

Kuroo really wants to kick his own ass in that moment. You were always so good to him, going out of your way to make the time you got to spend together as pleasurable as possible, taking time where you actually had none to spare and just simply spoiling him in any way possible and this was how he treated you? He didn’t even kiss you when you got home, which was funny, because it was one of the only thoughts in his head, besides volleyball this whole past week. The feeling of your soft lips against his.

He was not surprised that he didn’t get a message back, but he still unmuted his phone, just in case you called him when you had enough and wanted to go home.

Then he starts cleaning up his mess.

You on the other hand nearly arrived at the bar where you and your friends usually met up once a month to keep in touch. You already regretted wearing your new heels. As you turned the next corner, you could already spot the bar and with it, a whole lot of people standing outside at high tables. Your friends amongst one of them.

“Hey ladies”, you call out as you get closer. “Long time no see.”

Fighting a smile to your face, you found your place right next to Miwa, who gently nudges you in the side.

“Stop that grimace and tell us what happened.”

Alisa, who was standing in front of you, just reaches over the table, takes your hand in hers and squeezes it softly.

“Actually, I think I’d rather have a drink first”, you moan.

One drink followed the next and your friends realized later, that they probably should have stopped you after your 5th cocktail or so. Which they didn’t, because you spilled your heart out to them, nearly crying a few times, which was rare to see, because usually you managed to keep your cool in front of others, even your own friends. Moreover, the drink in your hand seemed to be the only thing holding you together. They were a little taken aback, too, because you usually were a very good drinker, and could handle alcohol very well; but by the time you went inside to dance and just bumped into stranger after stranger while trying to walk a straight line, they figured you probably had not eaten anything before coming here.

Miwa squinched up her face. “She’s gonna feel even worse tomorrow. We should probably get her home.”

Alisa just nods, before sprinting in your direction as she witnessed you tumbling into a group of men, of which one luckily caught you in his arms, before you hit the floor, but then couldn’t keep his hands to himself. You just laughed, not realizing what was going on and not feeling the hand, currently sneaking up your leg. Everything looked dizzy and swayed and you felt a little funny in the head. Vaguely you realize that Alisa was arguing with the man who stopped your fall and then her face popped up in front of you, asking you were your phone was.

You look at her irritated, not quite understanding what she wanted.

“C’mon y/n, where is your goddamn phone.”

“My clutch?”

Miwa suddenly popped up next to you, steadying you and gently guiding you to an abandoned empty chair. “Sit.”

Alisa rummaged through your clutch, only to find your purse and your house keys…but no phone.

“Your phone is not in here y/n. Are you sure it was in your clutch?” she looks at you questioningly, with her big green eyes, which were all you could focus on. She always looks so pretty.

„Focus y/n!“

You thought back to when you left the flat… “I think I …left it on the bed”, you mumble, eyes suddenly growing very heavy. Leaning heavily against Miwa, your head lolls against her shoulder. You inhale deeply. Miwa always managed to smell so good; you wonder how she does it. The girls just shared a concerned look. You couldn’t even sit upright on that damn chair, how were they supposed to get you home.

“We need to call Kuroo”, Miwa states, while brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You didn’t seem to notice.

“That was my plan. But I don’t have his number… do you?” Miwas face was answer enough. That’s when Saeko popped up next to them. “Hey girls, I made it after all.” She grinned happily at all of you. “What’s wrong with this one here, though?” She nudges you in the side, which was rewarded with a lazy grunt from you and a silent curse from Miwa as you tipped dangerously to the side.

“Is she drunk!? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk. What happened?” Saeko seemed mildly concerned, which leads to Miwa and Alisa freaking out a little. Saeko usually doesn’t show concern, so it must be just as bad as they imagined.

“Do you have Kuroos number?” Alisa asked her without answering her question in return, not letting her eyes stray from your face, as you looked ghostly white at the moment and started mumbling random things under your breath.

“No? But you have? Right?”

They both shake their heads. Saeko sighs and mumbles something under her breath, which rather sounded, like ‘I should’ve just gone straight home’, before facing Alisa.

“Call your brother then. He must have his number.”

“Oh my god, Saeko you are a genius.”

“Thanks, I know.”

With another concerned look your way, Alisa left your side to go outside and call her brother. She just hoped he would pick up, since it was already the middle of the night.

Meanwhile Kuroo was sitting on the couch, worriedly glancing at the clock all few seconds and constantly brushing his fingers through his hair. No wonder you hadn’t texted him back, he had found your phone lying on his pillow as he had made the bed again. This meant, you were out, with no phone and no means to contact him if something was wrong. He didn’t like that one bit. The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame someone for it, besides himself. This was his fault and he knew it all too well. Scratching at his scalp, he tried to calm down a bit. He knew you could take care of yourself; your small figure belied the strength you actually had, but still. There was always a chance that something happened. So when his phone started ringing he answered it in seconds, without even looking who was calling first. It just had to be you, right?

“Y/n?” he nearly yelped in the phone.

“No, this is Lev.”

Kuroo nearly lost it then, breathing heavily and punching the pillow right next to him, he thought he was going to combust any second.

“What is it Lev? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, I know, I was sleeping until my sister called me.” Now that he mentioned it, Kuroo could hear the slight strain in Levs voice, as if he had just gotten up.

“It’s about y/n, though. They are worried and would like you to come and pick her up. Apparently she didn’t have her phone with her and got stupidly drunk.” He paused. “…did you have a fight? Are you alright?”

Kuroo swallowed.

“Just tell me where they are, please.” And so Lev does.

“Tell your sister I’ll be there soon… and thank you, Lev. Sorry that you got involved in this.”

“Yeah, yeah. G’night.” with that, he just hung up on Kuroo, probably eager to get into bed again. Kuroo couldn’t even blame him for that, he was tired, too, but he swore he wouldn’t go to bed before you got home safely.

He gets up, just grabs his wallet, keys and his sweater and was out the door in seconds, running all the way to the bar. Never before had it been so bad, that your friends were concerned about you. You had always gotten home on your own, or were sober enough to just give him a call, or get a taxi. Your alcohol tolerance was quite high, too, but alas, you hadn’t eaten today. That was probably the problem.

Alisa spotted him from afar and just starts waving. She was impressed at how fast he was, it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since the call. When she saw him up close though, she realized that he was sweating and breathing hard. He must have run the whole way here.

“Jeez, Kuroo you look like you might pass out any second.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to see you, too Alisa. Now, where is she?”

He didn’t even look Alisa in the face, his eyes scanning the crowd around them, searching for your face.

“Inside. C’mon.”

He follows her tall blonde form through the masses, until she stops in front of a chair. An empty chair. He could barely hear her curse under her breath.

Kuroos head snaps up, when he could hear a commotion start on the dance floor.

There you were, the hands of some random stranger draped across you, while you danced as if you didn’t even notice. Which of course, you didn’t. Not really. You just enjoyed the lights and the music and silently swayed to the rhythm of it, being a little surprised that the world suddenly didn’t seem so shaky anymore. Your back felt warm, too, which was at the same time pleasant and very unpleasant at once. Something somehow felt wrong, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You were just happy that you somehow managed to get yourself drunken enough, to stop thinking about how little your boyfriend seemed to care about you.

Kuroos eyes wander to the two females next to you, desperately trying to pry the hands off that damn stranger of your dancing form, but they were both so small compared to the guy, it was useless.

He lost it the moment said stranger seemed to thrust his hips into your back. Miwa and Saeko spotted him just the second he lunged at the person, shoving him away.

“Get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

The guy of course didn’t like being handled that way and was in Kuroos face the very next instance. “What’s your problem man? It didn’t seem to me that she didn’t like it.”

Miwa winced. She had seen Kuroo lose his cool once before, and it hadn’t ended very well for the other dude. He had him up by his collar at once, sneering in his face “she’s so drunk she probably doesn’t even remember her own name and you want to tell me she liked it?” He shook the stranger, muscles flexing under his T-Shirt.  “Get the fuck out of my eyes.”

With that, he shoves him so hard that the guy loses his balance and falls face down onto the dance floor.

Your world had become very wobbly again, as soon as the somewhat steadying hands had left your hips. Tumbling to the side, you were caught in strong arms again. Your boyfriend’s arms.

“C’mon kitten, we’re going.”

“Wha-? Kuroo?” Were you hallucinating now? “No I don’t want to go. I want to dance.” You wind your way out of his arms, only to stagger once again.

Kuroo exhales once again and tries to pull himself together, looking at your friends who all watch you with deep worry in their eyes. “How much exactly did she drink?”

Alisa nervously twirls her hair around her finger, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Your boyfriend could be scary, especially if he was worried about you. “Don’t know… I kinda lost count after her 5th cocktail or so… she might have had some drinks on the dance floor, too.”

Kuroo breathes in deeply, watching you as you tried to dance, which was actually just staggering from one side to the other, trying not to fall on your face. He was low key impressed that you had not already broken your ankles in those heels. Trying to remain calm and reminding himself that in fact, this was his fault and he couldn’t get angry with anybody else, he sighs again, starts fumbling in his pocket to get his wallet out and pushes some money in Alisas hand.

“Here, for her drinks. I’m pretty sure she didn’t pay for them herself, did she? Well, never mind. We are going now. Thanks for reaching out to me.”

And with that, he appears next to you again, draping his sweater around your hips to keep your very short dress from flashing anyone, before crouching down and just throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell!? KUROO! Put me down, I don’t want to go!” you slur, as he starts to push his way through the crowd.

“Good thing I’m not asking then.”

Your friends watch as your boyfriend singlehandedly maneuvers you two outside, sighing in unison as you leave the club.

“Wow. That was intense”, Saeko deadpans.

Miwa nods. “He was so calm, though? The last time I saw someone touch y/n with Kuroo around, the guy had a broken nose afterwards. I was a little scared for a second there.”

“He must have been really worried. Lev told me he seemed really agitated, which is rare for him. He’s usually very composed.”

They sigh in unison again. “We better call her tomorrow and ask if she’s alright”, Miwa states, to which the others all nod. Saeko starts grinning a moment later. “I’m pretty sure Kuroo is gonna take good care of her now, so let’s not worry. The night is still young.” She throws her arms around the waists of her friends and pulls them all in direction of the dance floor.

 Meanwhile your world shakes violently with every step your boyfriend makes and your hair was jumping in tact with it. His shoulder blade pressed very uncomfortably into your stomach. You could feel the warmth radiating from his hand at the back of your knee, where he gripped you softly to keep you steady.

You hadn’t spoken to him since he had thrown you over his shoulder and just marched out of the bar. In fact, you felt a little ashamed. It had been years since you had gotten so drunk you could barely stand. It was a mystery to you, how he even knew where you were.

Another step, another bounce, another uncomfortable press against your roaring stomach. You clutch your hands into the hem of Kuroos shirt, trying to steady yourself a bit, inhaling his familiar smell and focusing on that, instead of the turmoil in your stomach and your head.

Kuroo of course feels you clench fistfuls of his shirt and slows down a bit, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Kitten, you alright there?”

The fresh air had sobered you up quite a bit and you were fully aware of the gentle grip your boyfriend had on you, same as the every so often brush of his thumb across your thigh.

Since you didn’t answer, he just presses a quick kiss to your leg and then continues on his way, a little more slowly, but still persistent. You groan, as the nauseous feeling in your stomach got overwhelming. Not only that, but you could also feel your feet burning and hurting. Those heels were really not the best choice for tonight.

“Y/n?” he stops once more and tries to look over his shoulder again.

“First of all Kuroo, I’m still mad at you, secondly I feel like I might puke any minute if your shoulder is gonna press in my stomach again and last of all, my feet hurt.”

It occurred to you that you were whining, but how could you not? Today has been hell and now everything hurts and you couldn’t even just press your head into your boyfriends’ chest because you were supposed to be mad at him.

“Hold on a sec, hun.”

“I mean it Tetsu, I’m gonna puke.”

Kuroo smiles at that, not because it was fun to him that you had so much to drink that you felt like puking, but because you used his first name…which in conclusion meant you weren’t in fact as mad as you tried to be.

He could already see his target at the end of the street, so he just ignored you and walks on a few minutes longer.

“Ok, I’m going to put you down now, be ready.”

He slowly lets you slide down on his front, so that you were now standing in front of him. His hands were on your hips, steadying you slightly in case you still needed it. You wince as your feet hit the ground, your heels pressing against every sore spot on them. Kuroo could tell you were avoiding looking in his face, even though he stood right in front of you.

Sighing, he puts his slender index finger under your chin and lifts your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. “I’m sorry Y/n, I was a total dick earlier and I didn’t even realize it. But for now, can we ignore that so that I can take care of you properly? Please?”

Damn it, it wasn’t fair. As you look into his catlike, earnest eyes, so full of love and concern for you, you could already feel your anger melt away. “You’re the worst, Tetsu.” Your words significance was betrayed by the fact that you leaned your head against his shoulder the exact same instance and inhaled deeply. He chuckles deeply at that and presses a soft kiss against your neck, holding you a little while longer.

“Sit down here for a bit kitten, I will be right back.” He guides you to a bench right in front of the 24/7 he had aimed for, noticing you were still very unsteady on your feet and actually limping now. After you sat down, he squats down in front of you and takes your foot in his hands. “Let me see.” He slowly peels off your shoes and inhales sharply through his teeth. “Damn hun, you really butchered your feet.” You decided you didn’t even want to see it and just wriggled your toes at the new found freedom.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back”, and with that he rushes into the store behind you.

After a few minutes, you feel something cold against your cheek. “Here, drink.”

You take the bottle of water out of his hands, suddenly feeling very thirsty and drink a few mouthfuls, as he squats down in front of you again, inspecting your feet once more, before applying patches at the worst spots. When he was finished, he just looks up at your exhausted form in front of him, bracing his hands on your knees, his thumbs already drawing gentle patterns across your skin. It seemed cold to you suddenly and you shiver, which leads to Kuroo taking off the sweater he had put around your waist and pulling it over your head.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He grabs your shoes, and turns around, squatting again in front of you, his back muscles flexing under the shirt as he motions for you to get on. With a sigh you did exactly that. No way in hell would you walk the next 10 minutes home on your own two feet. You put your arms around his neck and try a weak little jump to get on his back, which was rewarded with an amused chuckle by your boyfriend. Luckily, he caught your legs just fine and adjusted you on his back with a little wiggle, so that he now could give you a proper piggyback ride home.

“Y/n?” he asks as you got closer and closer to your home, already walking up the stairs to your shared flat.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”                            

Ah damn that bastard really knew how to play you. Even though you could feel your insides warm up at that, you thought he could feel bad a little more, so you didn’t comment on it, as he puts the key in the locker and opens the door.

The moment he switched the light on, though, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Ah fuck Tetsu, I love you, too. Asshole.” That made him laugh in return. It seems like he had cleaned the whole flat after you rushed out to drink yourself stupid.

“I realized why you were so mad the moment I turned around to go back in here”, he confesses and slowly lets you down from his back. “And as I said before, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a total douchebag.” He comes to stand in front of you and puts your face into his hands. “Can you forgive this asshole?”

You punch his chest in return. “Stop being cute!”

“Can you forgive me? Pleaseee?”

He actually pouts as he squishes your cheeks, already knowing he had won. You tried to fight the smile that wanted to spread on your face at the ridiculous show of your huge boyfriend pouting in front of you, but you fail miserably.

“Just kiss me already, idiot.”

So he did, his one hand sliding from your cheek to your neck, as his lips press against yours in a feather light touch. Your own hand finds its way into his hair at once, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, as the other steadies you against his hips. He sighs contentedly in the kiss, brushing his lips against yours as he mumbles “I missed you so much”, before kissing you again, this time a little more hungrily. Your lips move eagerly against each other and after a little while, you feel his tongue grace against your lips, which makes you shudder. Your knees started feeling dangerously wobbly again. Luckily, he had already pulled you flush against him and now lifted you up by putting his hands under your ass to carry you to the bedroom, where he gently lays you down on the bed, before slowly climbing on top of you.

You smile fondly at his expression as he kisses you repeatedly, every kiss getting a little rougher than the last one, moving your lips in time with his and then there was his tongue, finally in your mouth. He could still taste the alcohol on your lips.

When he finally breaks away from you, you were both panting. Your hands were gripping his shirt greedily and you were already pulling him down on you again, wanting more. God his kisses gave you life.

“I’m not sure we should go there today, kitten, as much as I’d like to. You’re still very much drunk, and I’d like you to feel and remember all of what I plan to do to you.”

He smirks and plants another kiss on your lips, teeth grazing teasingly against them as he did so, then snorting at the bewildered and somewhat outraged look you gave him when he pulled away. You were clawing at his biceps the moment he starts to get up from you, trying to pull him down again and groaning when you realized you were going to lose against his strength.

“Tetsuro”, you moaned in a last attempt to get him back to you, which made him freeze on the spot. “Wow you’re mean, kitten, but still no.”

And with that, he simply helps you get out of his sweater and your dress, always swatting your grabbing hands away, before he manhandles you into the bathroom to get you ready for bed.

You were getting pissed at him again, because first, he got you hot and bothered and then he didn’t want to do something about it. How rude. That would get him payback, you swore to yourself.

Still, not even your naked form had him thinking twice about his choice, he simply wrangles one of his tees over your head and pulls you flush against him in your shared bed, having a death grip on you, so you couldn’t even move around, as much as you tried.

“Sleep now kitten, and then maybe tomorrow I’ll give you what you want so desperately right now.”

He runs a hand down your side teasingly and you could feel his smile against your forehead at the way your body quivers against him.

“On second thought, I think I’m not able to forgive you yet, you are actually the worst”, you mumble against his chest. He only acknowledges this with another kiss against your forehead. Still, somehow your boyfriend had made the right call, because it only took you seconds to fall asleep in his warm embrace. 

He watches your sleeping form on his chest fondly, pressing little kisses to your face from time to time and thinking to himself, that he deserves a price for self-control, because he seriously had not wanted to restrain himself at all.

Groaning, he presses another kiss to your face as he sleepily mumbles, “I love you, Y/n.” before squishing you even more against his chest. This was what he had longed for all week after all, he thought to himself, as he tried to ignore the bulge in his pants. This was going to be an extremely long and very torturous night for him… he just hopes he would fall asleep just as fast as you did. Morning could not come fast enough…

[misstrashchan]

RWBY V8 CH12 Initial Thoughts:

Yes yes I'm late watching the new episode don't look at me. Also @tumblezwei thank you thank you for showing me how to put the read more bit on posts, I can finally put it to good use.

Figured I might as well do a reaction/initial thoughts to this episode since I haven't done that in a while, so here goes:

- Man Ironwood is just. Super overcompensating with his Gun-gun.

"You've done the right thing."

"I have. Feels weird"

-I'M SORRY THAT WAS THE BEST LINE OF THE EPISODE HANDS DOWN. Just. The sass. The growth. Kicking Ironwood in the face while cuffed (does she have experience doing that? Fighting while arrested? It kinda looked similar to Mercury's fighting style too.) EMERALD I LOVE YOU.

- Ngl I feel extremely satisfied that we can finally FINALLY put the "Winter is Totally Going To Be A Villain" theory to bed after this episode. Not that I didn't used to see the appeal of it myself, but v8 made it increasingly clear that wasn't where her arc was headed. Also Schneebling reunion on the horizon? Pretty please???

- *Sees Oscar riding on the Chimera summon with Winter*

*Remembers Oscar riding with Yang on the hoverbike in episode 2*

My Snowpines/Rosegarden shipping ass: Gee Oscar, how come you get TWO big sister-in-laws?

- Small thing but it's always nice to see team ALPN fighting together. I know a few Oscar fans were freaking out about Penny potentially replacing Oscar as their teammate, but like I thought that wasn't really something to worry about. *gently bonks Oscar fanbase* Sillies.

- I'm a little suprised given how Ironwood is the Big Bad of the Atlas arc how quickly he went down, without much dramatic flair or further esculation, but I am so glad Winter got that last awesome shot on him. (and that Oscar managed to get a few jabs in too) And like. He's still alive in jail. So who the hell knows what we're gonna do with him now. Take him to Vacuo along with Jaques apparently. I'm sure that'll go greeeeaaat.

- Ambrosius... after a quick google search the name apparently means "Divine" or "Immortal" in Greek. Hm. Unlike Jinn, not a specific reference to a mythical being, at least not in name, but I'm sure people are already theorizing on that front better than I could. Similar blue/gold design too. So maybe they're all Djinns in a sense, since they grant your desires, but split into four focusing on a specific kind of desire? That works. Anyways, super fun character and I hope they make more use of him. Like, because I wanna see more of his personality and also Oh my Gosh the Things You Can Do With His Powers are Basically Limitless as long as you're smart about it (hint hint get the CCT active around Remnant but Better)

- And gosh were our girls smart. Weiss working with Whitley to get the schematics and coordinates for the exact points of evacuation that they had originally planned out for their ships to create portals to the Vault/Central Zone (?) to Vacuo, Ruby puting in careful thought and wording about creating a copy of Penny with the existing robot parts from her to let the girl who was always there underneath remain and leaving the copy with the virus to self destruct, with Penny's designs for reference, they absolutely did their homework. Of course there was the risk of if Penny could exist without that physical form, but of course they all believed in her.

- Self destructing Not!Penny crawling towards the real Penny is super creepy and hopefully something she doesn't have nightmares about

- Of course the first thing Penny does when she realises she's a Real Girl is hug everyone so she can experience the joy of Real Normal Warm Hugs.

"Are hugs always this warm?"

"Yes, Penny"

"Woooow"

-MY HEART. No actually back up, back up, the Nuts and Dolts shipper in me is singing rn, because all the times Penny has been hugged by Ruby this volume and only now is she actually able to actually feel that hug. Like, the sentiment and emotional support of it was always there and obviously appreciated by her before, but like. Now she can FEEL it.

- I'm super happy for Penny and seeing her back to her cheerful adorable self is Delightful, but at the same time I'm now really worried for her too. She doesn't have to worry about the virus anymore, now she's a regular meat person, but here's the thing. She's a regular meat person. No more rocket boots. No more lasers. No more in built swords attached to her body with strings. No more resistance to harsher elements. No more night vision. Obviously she's still the Winter Maiden, so she's still a force to be reckoned with, and she has RWBY with her, but she's still a rookie maiden that is massively vulnerable right now. She's vulnerable in her new human form to anyone coming after her. And like. Things just feel like they're going too smoothly...

- Speaking of, hello hello my ominous darling Cinder. Just like last volume, when things seem to be going too smoothly, there you are. So Watts cut off Jaune's broadcast and all other communications in the kingdom, and I'm guessing Cinder's jumping in those portal spaces with Neo to come after Ruby and Penny? That along with the "Do Not Fall" warning seems... yeah something's gonna go terribly wrong by the end of this volume. Salem, Ironwood, Mantle, Penny... All these loose ends are just being dealt with so quickly and neatly for me to be fully comfortable.

- tfw you've read Before the Dawn and know that Vacuo was already struggling with refugees coming in since Atlas had closed its borders, Vale was overrun with Grimm, and Mistral had its defences spread thin already being the widest reaching kingdom, along with Leo, Hazel and Tyrian denting it even further in offing all the huntsman and huntresses, and Vacuo's people are already pretty stingy with outsiders, and if there are thousands coming from the kingdom that closed it's borders and ordered an dust embargo... oh boi the Vacuo arc is gonna be a doozy.

- I know it's probably too close to Atlas and therefore Salem, and we need a convenient way to segue into the Vacuo arc, but couldn't Argus have been an option for the portal evacuation? At least, as well as Vacuo?

- OH FUCK YEAH I FORGOT THEY MENTIONED THE WRITERS SAID V9 WAS GONNA BE A DETOUR AND WASN'T JUST GOING TO BE JUMPING STRAIGHT TO VACUO. So like. Are they gonna get lost in a void of time and space? Are they going to jump through time by accident? Or just in space? Both? If you fall do you just end up randomly in the middle of the desert, far from Vacuo? And v9 is just going to be RWBY trekking through the desert? Similar to v6 after the train crash? So many questions.

-Hmm. Torn between Cinder going after Penny/Ruby with Neo in the vault space, or potentially being confronted by ALPN+Emerald... JNR+Emerald seems more narratively fitting, but Neo seems deadset on her and Cinder killing to Ruby...

- I wonder if Qrow is gonna confront Ironwood while he's in jail... Role reversal of the start of the volume. Or maybe he's just going to consider it worth his time.

-Taking all the established Atlas characters right with us into the Vacuo arc seems like it's going to be... A Lot. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if team RWBY really did end up jumping in time in V9 to fast forward on the two city populations integrating with one another, like maybe by a few months? Idk I'm just spitballing. Initial thoughts and all.

- Last point but the hooded cowl is such a great look on Cinder. Love it.

[suntrastar]

abstract: chapter 1

chapter 2!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word count: 7k (i am insane i know this!! you can also find this fic on ao3 !!)

Author’s note: hello! attempting to upload a fic on here for the first time ever! do i understand this website’s format. perhaps not. but am i going to try? perhaps yes! anyways hope you all like it :) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!! umm idk how this works if you wanna follow me you can?? do follows exist on tumblr dot com i think they do. hope they do. love you all. this is a long chapter buckle up (BUCKle up lmao i am not funny)!! enjoy ;o

“Hey, can you come look at this?”

You teach three classes a week- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. The latter two are enjoyable in their own right, but Mondays are definitely your favorite. Instead of teaching kids, who are funny and creative but so messy, and so loud, you get to teach adults. People your own age or usually older, putting you in a position of authority, valuing your opinion, wanting you to come look at things.

It’s a delightful power trip.

You turn away from the window to see who’s speaking.

It’s Steve.

Of course it’s Steve, your star student, staring at you with a worn, weary intensity, wiping a paintbrush on a paper towel. He’s already pushed his sheet of paper across the table, bumpy with water and watercolor paint, cream-colored edges starting to curl. He leans away from it, reclining in a seat that’s adult-sized but dwarfed by his frame, looking so forlorn, like the paper just abandoned him, moved to the opposite side of the table by itself.

You stifle a laugh.

“Sure,” you say, and make your way over to his table.

Steve fidgets in his seat as you look at his painting. You try to keep your jaw in check.

It drops anyway.

As always, it’s beautiful. He’s painted a sky, swirling with purples and pinks, and careful clouds, flickering in and out between layers of paint, elegant and pale yellow-orange. And the sun- it’s off-center, and you’re sure it was unintentional, but that adds to the effect, because it’s hot red, and dazzling, and slowly seeping into the still-wet sky. Tendrils of red like real sunbeams, pushing through the clouds like a real sunset.

You don’t know why Steve even takes this class. Half the time, you feel like he should be the one teaching.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say eventually, once your words come back to you. “I love how you painted the sun- the red, oh my god. You’re seriously a natural.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and you push the paper back towards him. He looks down at it, still tense, brow furrowed, and you almost laugh again, until he looks back up at you. “I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

Power trip.

“I love it,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, which he hesitantly returns. You might be laying it on a little thick, but Steve still looks distressed, and you genuinely like the guy enough to try to help him.

When he walked in with his friend for the first class, you were floored. People like Steve don’t attend classes like this- classes like this are attended by regular people. Not people that walk like dancers, all grace and light steps, not people that are extraordinarily jacked, with jutting shoulders and rippling muscles, not people that have a weirdly authoritarian air around them, like a politician, but less shrewd.

Still, you welcomed them and made awkward small-talk and tried not to stare at their arms and hoped you came across as a somewhat decent person. It’s your first time teaching adults, you explained, and Steve gave you a smile so sincere and reassured you that you would do great, boosting your confidence to the point where you actually did.

Steve is lovely. He’s passionate about art and has a good eye, a better eye than you, really, and he always tries so hard with whatever he does, and he’s funny in a dorky way, and completely unaware of it. He always wears a baseball hat and tucks his shirts into his pants and called you ma’am once, and looked so surprised when you burst out laughing and told him to call you by your first name. With him, two classes have flown by, and now, during the third, he’s warmed up to you enough to talk to you like a friend.

The friend he brings with him, though?

A total douchebag.

The night to Steve’s day, the rain to his sunshine. It’s obvious that Steve brings him along as some sort of moral support, to make himself look less out of place, which is fine, except the guy always treats you like you’ve perpetually offended him.

And maybe you have, maybe one time you did something that’s worthy of his eternal dislike, but you wouldn’t know what it is, because he’s never brought it up, because he barely fucking talks.

You don’t think he’s a naturally quiet guy. He definitely looks like he has a lot to say, but no matter what, he only ever talks in single-syllable bursts, quiet enough that half the time you miss what he’s saying.

He doesn’t ignore you, either- he listens to everything you say and lets his judgement flicker over his face- which is way worse. A glare is a slight misstep, a shake of his head means that you’ve just said something that he finds stupid, a scowl is a catastrophe.

You don’t even know his name. He’s never introduced himself, and always writes his name in a shaky, illegible scrawl on the sign-in sheet, and by now you don’t care enough to look it up.

Still, you’re nice to him, polite. It’s okay if he doesn’t like you. You don’t need to be liked- being noticed is enough.

You shift away from Steve to his friend, sitting next to him at the table. He’s staring at you in a way that you can only describe as violent, and you flinch, and then plaster your smile back on.

“How’s it going?” You ask, expecting no response, stealing a glance at his paper. He’s painted the entire sheet a watered-down blue, and you want to congratulate him, for actually participating this time, but you don’t say anything. “The watercolors working out for you?”

Your heart goes out to the poor paintbrush in his hand. It’s barely been used, is steadily dripping water, and is being throttled in his gloved grip. He always wears one glove- it’s weird, but you’re not going to pry.

He catches you looking and a whole myriad of emotion plays over his face; irritation and shame, a creased brow and a scowl. You have the feeling that you’ve taken a massive overstep, even though you haven’t said anything else, even though you’re not looking at his hand anymore, just at him.

His hair hangs over his eyes, glossy and carelessly wavy, which you would find pretty, maybe, if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is. Like you’ve just done something terrible.

“Sure,” he says, and that’s it.

Even when you turn away, he’s glaring.

You hate it, so you pretend it’s not happening.

Steve gives you a sympathetic glance before you head back. You wave it off.

“Shonna,” you call, to the fiftysomething woman hunched over her painting a few tables down, “how’re the flowers looking?”

***

Thirty minutes before your fourth Monday class starts, you arrive at the studio to find Rina washing paintbrushes in the sink.

“Hey,” you call.

She turns to you and gives you a surprised grin. “Oh, hey! You’re here early- come help with these brushes.”

You set your bag on the counter by the wall and join her at the sink. You’ve known Rina for ages- ever since you were roommates in college. The class before yours is taught before, some advanced painting thing that she is extremely overqualified to teach.

She’s kind of famous. And kind of self-absorbed, and a little bit pretentious, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’re as successful in your field as she is. No matter what it is, you can’t complain- she’s the one that helped get you this job in the first place.

“A couple of people in my class like to get here early, so I just try to arrive before them,” you say. She passes you a clean paintbrush. You reach around her and tear off a paper towel from the dispenser. “Did you dye your hair? It looks so pretty.”

“Yes!” She shakes her head, letting her hair sway. Last time you met her, she had dyed it pink. Now it’s mahogany red, straight and sleek and falling just past her shoulders. She looks a little unreal. “How’s your class going? Are the people okay?”

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice.”

She passes you another paintbrush to dry. You consider bringing up Steve’s friend, but decide against it.

“That’s good- and you’re welcome, by the way. But okay, listen. Do you remember that one guy I told you about a while back, Dustin? So yesterday I was just sitting at home, and then he texted me…”

With the formalities out of the way, she launches into a story about someone you definitely don’t remember. Still, you humor her, listen to what she has to say, chime in at the right parts and say “really?” and “no way!” too many times. The minutes tick by.

When all of the brushes are washed and dried, you take them, since you’re going to be the one using them next, and start setting up for the class. Rina walks away and grabs her stuff from the counter. She lingers by the doorway, door already propped open, aimlessly scrolling through something on her phone, hesitant to leave for a reason you don’t know. Maybe she has more to say- if that’s even, like, possible.

You set the brushes in a container at the center table, and head over to the shelves on the far wall to pull out more supplies. Unfortunately, today’s class is revolving around watercolor again. It’s drudgery, such a boring medium- dull, unsaturated, painstaking when it comes to detail. You bring out a stack of paper, the least-depressing palettes, and then mason jars for holding water.

You’re setting the last jar on the table when Rina shrieks.

It startles you, making your hand slip.

The jar wobbles over the edge of the table and then falls, shattering into cloudy glass pieces at your feet.

“Shit,” you curse, and look over at her. “Rina, what the hell?”

Standing across from her in the doorway, having arrived early for class as usual, are Steve and his friends, two shades more flustered than usual. Rina is gawking at them.

Okay, they’re attractive, but not that attractive.

Not shriek-worthy attractive.

You sigh loudly and carefully step over the glass, making your way over to them. “Hi, Steve,” you say, and he jolts, like a scared cat. He’s blushing, stepping back into the hallway, hands awkwardly dangling at his sides. His friend is staring at Rina like he’s about to murder her, and you’re staring at him like you’re about to ask him to pass you the broom behind the door.

Because you are.

“Sorry about… that. There’s a broom behind the door, could you pass it to me?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and you are desperate to hear him, even if he’s only going to utter a simple yes, but Rina buts in.

“You did not just ask the Winter Soldier to pass you a broom.”

Who?

“Girl, what?”

All three of you turn to her, cornering back into the wall. She looks even more unreal, eyes blown wide, red creeping up her neck, giving her hair a run for its money, still gawking. You resist the urge to reach out and pull her chin back up, to close her mouth.

She alternates between looking at Steve and at…  

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself, or you, and then steps closer to Steve, who instinctively takes a step back. He’s fully in the hallway, now. “And you’re Captain America.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He stays silent, and you feel bad for him, that’s all you can feel, really- you are confused beyond reason, halfway convinced that Rina is losing her shit, still awaiting the broom, still awaiting Steve’s friend’s words, racking your brain for any image of Captain America or the Winter Soldier that you might have- and coming up completely empty.

You don’t watch the news, like, ever.

Little details float back to you. Steve’s dressing sense, his manners, his muscles…

The baseball caps that both of them are always wearing...

His friend’s glove…

Oh, fuck.

“Are you?” You ask dumbly. The question is meant for both of them, but you only look at one of them while speaking. A glare meets you back- a slight misstep.

You can’t even see your feet, in this situation. You’re walking blind.

Steve crosses his arms and looks at you sternly. He doesn’t look angry, but as close as he can get. “Yes,” he says, completely guarded and unfriendly and not lovely at all. “I thought you knew that.”

You are so stupid- how did you not know that?

“I didn’t,” you say, and you don’t sound convincing at all. Not much fazes you, but you are absolutely, positively fazed right now, and starting to spiral out. “I had no idea- I thought you guys could have been, like, bodyguards, or something, not actual Avengers, oh my god. I’m so sorry, shit, thank you for your service?”

You’re going to end it all- this is so embarrassing.

Steve’s mouth twitches. Rina is scarlet-faced. The Winter Soldier, god, looks so tense, like he might shatter, too, into silent, grumpy pieces all over the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, and marginally relaxes. He stays in the hallway, the Winter Soldier by the door- you should have paid more attention in your tenth grade history class, what is the guy’s name?

Rina peels herself off the wall, and you start to get nervous. There’s a painful silence, with lots of staring, where you’re still trying to coax a few rational thoughts out of your brain, and only coming up with one- Rina needs to leave.  

You try to tell her that with your eyes, with a pointed look, but you’re not great at this whole communication-through-expressions thing, so she doesn’t get the hint, or does and just ignores it.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, tearing the silence like a plastic seal, voice starting to rise, from wonder to excitement, from painless curiosity to danger, “there’s two Avengers taking your class? And you didn’t even recognize them?”

“Nope,” you say, looking away, at a stain on the wall, at the distant glass shards still unswept away on the floor.

“That’s…”

She trails off before she has the chance to call you stupid, because the Winter Soldier gives her a pointed look of his own. Low brows and dark eyelashes, blazing blue eyes- she has no choice but to listen. Your staring was irritating, but his is intimidating.

She scampers away, mumbling something you can’t catch and brushing against Steve as she leaves.

This whole thing is so unprofessional, but at least you can breathe again-

“Here,” the Winter Soldier says, and a broom handle comes into your view.

Just one word, but you’ll take it with open arms. You take the broom from him, give an unreturned, unfamiliarly sheepish smile and head back to the broken glass on the floor.

The broken glass is swept up and tossed in the trash. You avoid looking at the doorway, focusing on other useless tasks instead. Rearranging the supplies on the table, fiddling with the window blinds, chatting with the rest of the class attendees as they start to file in.

Then the class starts and you’re swept back into your demonstration, talking and teaching and showing off different techniques that can be done with different types of brushes. You only look in their direction once, right after showing off some technique you barely remember from art school with a fan brush- they sit at their table near the back, Steve paying attention as usual, his friend silently reacting, as usual.

So they decided to stay- that’s good. Great, even.

Until the next part of the class starts, when everyone gets to work on their own paintings, when you have to stop talking.

You mill around the room, searching for a conversation to join in on or a comment to make, but find none. Then you take a sheet of paper and hopelessly try to draw- search for a distraction and a spark up of an idea, something, anything, and come up completely empty. It’s just...

How famous are they? Like, A-list celebrity famous? Are they offended that you didn’t recognize them- should you start treating them differently? You don’t keep up with this stuff. You have an impossibly long list of other things to worry about- you don’t have the time to worry about this stuff. The Avengers aren’t something you think about ever, because why should you?

If you opened any newspaper or magazine you would find something about them- a charity gala they attended, some recent threat they neutralized, the latest gossip surrounding their personal lives. But those lives are so far detached from your own that you’ve never bothered to look.

You simply don’t care. You’re not a native New Yorker- it’s not like these people are your hometown heroes, that you grew up idolizing them. They save the world time and time again and society is forever indebted to them and all of that, but what are you supposed to do about it?

And most importantly, what is the Winter Soldier’s fucking name?

Enough of this chaos goes on in your mind to make your head hurt. Fuck it, you decide- you’ll face it. You straighten your shoulders as you stand, trying your best to look purposeful as you walk to their table, like you have reason to go over there. Yeah, they’re strong. Genetically enhanced and all of that, and they’re important: they’re Avengers.

But they’re taking your class.

You slide into the chair across from the Soldier without taking the time to gauge their reactions.

“Do other people here know?” You ask.

Steve startles, eyes widening, and then considers the question while swirling his brush in green paint. He’s working on a landscape today, you think. “Shonna might,” he says, not rudely. “But nobody else.”

So maybe not that famous. Or maybe the people here are just like you and don’t care.

But it still doesn’t make sense. “Then why did you think that I knew?”

“Because you talk a lot,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the job-”

Steve cuts you off, and fuck, you hate getting interrupted. But he’s smiling, and you can’t bring yourself to get upset over it. “You talk a lot to us.”

Us?  

More like to him.

You take it in stride, don’t let your confidence slip. You’ve purposely angled your head away, and you know the Winter Soldier is staring at you- you can feel it on your cheek, on your shoulder, on every nerve in your face. You don’t look back at him. This revelation hasn’t made him any less unpleasant.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s just as obvious, “because you’re a nice guy, Steve.”

Steve raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear under the brim of his hat. You smile at him as nicely as you can, sugar-sweet, until he can’t take anymore and drops his gaze back to his painting. You turn back to the nameless man across from you.

Winter Soldier.

“Hi,” you say, only to him, and prop your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. “I love the little pattern you have going on with your painting.”

It’s random splotches of black paint- calling it a pattern is an exaggeration. But you carry on.

“This is probably a bad time to ask, and it’s kind of a dumb question, but, like, what’s your name?”

He just barely raises an eyebrow, allowing for a fraction of surprise, before schooling his expression back into his usual mix of anger and boredom, a casual glare and slight frown. For a moment, you wonder what he looks like when he’s happy.

“You don’t know his name?” Steve is in disbelief, and then he winces, and you think he’s been kicked under the table. Abruptly, you laugh.

It rings out. A few people turn and stare, but you brush it all off with another smile.

He’s still staring. You don’t mind it.

The paintbrush in his hand is suddenly unsteady.

“My name is Bucky,” he says, slowly and loudly enough for you to make out the sound of his voice, for the first time ever.

He is definitely bothered by you asking, his mouth drawn tight, and you can’t even take the time to appreciate how cutesy his name is compared to his demeanor, because oh hell. It’s going to be difficult to keep up this whole dislike thing, if his voice sounds like this, low and rough and gritty like sandpaper, pleasantly grating over you and your skin…

You have to consciously remind yourself to keep on smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Things should feel different, but they don’t. Nobody really reacts- everything resumes as normal. Steve focuses on his panting, adding delicate brushstrokes to the branches of a tree. You linger for a moment, and then get up from the table and flutter off to someone else.

For every class, you wear this kitschy apron, paint-stained, with strings tied in a hasty bow against your back that Bucky always aches to even out. Someone tells you something, and you respond eagerly, fully phased out of the past incident.

He stares until he realizes he’s staring, and then drops his eyes back down to his paper.

Steve wanted to attend this class for a number of reasons- he was bored and wanted something to occupy his time, he wanted to revisit an old hobby, he wanted to learn from you- some hip, emerging artist he’s a fan of, whose work he’s been following for a while now, who is seriously talented, although you have yet to prove it. He wanted to go do something separated from the events of his regular life.

So much wanting. Bucky wants to know why you’re so indifferent.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that you didn’t know his name, or that you didn’t flinch or gasp or accuse him of something, or pointedly look at his left arm. Should he be thankful? Steve is clearly thankful, already loosening up, freed of any lasting tension.

Bucky just feels wary. You’re unsettling.

You come back over to their table one more time. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up, and there’s a smear of something dark on your forearm, ink or paint. On one wrist you’re wearing a  bracelet made of braided leather. On the other you wear a bulky digital watch.

Practical.

“Everything okay?” You ask, as if something not okay could potentially have happened, in your forty-five minute absence.

Steve fixes you with a friendly smile. Bucky can’t ever bring himself to do the same.

“Yep,” Steve says, and you nod your head, clearly relieved.

“Great!” You glance at him for a spare second, and turn away again.

Everyone he knows is so guarded, walls built high and doors barred shut. Except for you, if Bucky can say that he knows you, the perky art instructor, Steve’s favorite artist. You’re confident and flippant, and that should be a bad pairing, but somehow you can carry yourself within it just fine. Always purposeful in the space you occupy, not reacting to the knowledge of his and Steve’s major, momentous identities.

Bucky wonders, idly, as he blots water over what you so generously called a pattern, why you didn’t.

It’s not like he wants you to acknowledge it, wants you to call him a war criminal or a Rusisan spy. He just wants you to-

He doesn’t know.

The class goes on. An older couple sitting a few tables away have caught your attention, chattering on and on about their personal lives.They have a pet cat that their landlord doesn’t know about, and when they retire they want to move to the seaside in Italy, and in May their son is going to graduate high school.

“High school?” You gasp, loud for no reason. “I hated high school.”

Before the class ends, you take your position at the front of the studio, and talk some more. He knows it’s part of your job, but you are excessive.

There’s an art exhibition going on at some museum, and one of the featured artists is an acquaintance of yours, and on Saturday the admission fee is discounted, and if anybody is interested, you have a stack of flyers on the center table. And you hope that everyone has a good week.

You look at Bucky while finishing up your little monologue, giving a half-smile that’s for the whole class, but seemingly only directed at him. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re looking somewhere else.

***

“Morning, pal, you ready to go?”

Steve gives him a hopeful smile as he peels an orange.

Bucky’s hair is still wet from his shower, dripping water onto his shirt. It’s early, too early to go anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he’s awake- usually after his wake-of-dawn runs, he falls back asleep, or lies down and just stares at his ceiling, thinking, until he grows restless enough to get up and do something. But today, the restlessness came much sooner, so he got up much sooner, and it might already be a mistake.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, next to Sam, trying to think of something that Steve might have had planned for today, and coming up completely empty. “Go where?”

Steve looks hurt, for a brief second. “The exhibition at the museum, remember?”

Oh.

That.

“I’m not going to that,” Bucky says, harshly enough for it to be dropped.

Steve does not drop it. “Hey, come on. Just look at it.”

From his back pocket, Steve pulls out a flyer, one of the flyers you had out on Monday, folded up in a neat square- when did Steve pick one of those up? He holds it out, and Bucky, wishing he was asleep again, takes it.

He unfolds it, and the words are written in tiny letters, and the few photos on the paper are in color but too grainy to make out, and it gives him a slight headache, but he pretends to look it over. Sam leans into him to see it, loudly crunching cereal in Bucky’s ear.

“Looks cool, Rogers,” Sam says, and Steve grins, and now Bucky is the bad guy in the situation, for not wanting to go, even though Sam isn’t going either.

Bucky passes the flyer back without reading a single word.

“I’m not going,” he says, again.

But Steve is relentless. He sets the orange peels aside and gives him a look, and Bucky can already feel his resolve starting to crumble, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. Does he not understand that Bucky is already doing as much as he can?

“Why not?”

He picks the easiest answer.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he splits the orange into two, giving half to Bucky. Sam slurps the milk from his cereal bowl.

They’re all blissfully silent.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says suddenly, almost begging. “I really want to see it.”

“I don’t-” He falters, he’s losing the battle. “How many people are there gonna be?”

Steve lights up. Bucky tries to stay indignant, tries to keep his face twisted in dislike, but it’s difficult with Steve. He’s always so full of optimism, has so much of it that it spills out through the seams, rubs off onto whoever’s closest.

“Not that many,” Steve says, like a promise, shaking his head. “That’s why we should go now.”

“Will she be there?”

Sam perks up.

Steve frowns. “No? Or wait, maybe. It’s a public place- I don’t know. She could be.”

It’s miles off from the answer he wants, but again, for Steve, he’ll take it. Bucky ignores Sam leaning across the counter like an idiot and asking “who’s she?” and eats his orange slices in silence.

***

Huge, bulbous heads, and beady little eyes. The limbs are long and wavy and contorted in the weirdest positions, seas of arms and legs and joints, women twisted over each other in gnarled embraces, a man with his arms twirling over and over again around his own torso. And the colors- a complete eclectic mess of everything- blue, red, yellow, green, purple. Everything.

You walk through the museum floor one, two, three times. The paintings on display are unsettling and ugly, and you’re on the verge of tears.

They’re gorgeous. Pain thrown on a canvas, told through canvas. It’s overwhelming- you’re overwhelmed, and you can’t do anything else about it. The museum just opened and there’s barely any people around- you can wallow in your sadness as much as you want to, for now.

Or maybe you’ll wallow in your frustration, instead.

This… you want to create like this.  

But you don’t have it.  

It being an impossible, nearly unattainable type of pain, or misery or anger or any other emotion so strong and visceral that you could translate it into something like this, something that evokes something else from other people. From an audience.

You might have had something like that once, but that’s all too far behind you now. Forgettable. What you need right now is an idea, a spark of inspiration, a single coherent thought. A confirmation that you aren’t completely lost.

You wander back to a painting in a far corner, all alone in a small alcove. A red woman, with her head nestled in green grass and legs wrapping around the sun, quite literally head over heels for it. Her mouth is wide open, gaping, calling, wailing, maybe. She has a hooked nose and a mole on one of her arms, and her white dress has fallen down to pool on the grass, and her legs are lithe and unshaven, prickly like the grass, just like the yellow spikes of the sun, drawn almost comically.

How do you even- how do you even come up with things like this?

By living an interesting life, probably. Through not being boring.

You stay there for a while. Long enough that more people start to file in, pretentious art students wearing all black, eccentric people with awesome haircuts, tourists. They peer over your shoulders, awkwardly, waiting for you to move. When you don’t, they leave you to be, giving you a rude look or two that you pay no mind to. There’s space on either side of you, if they’re so desperate to see. Sidling up right against you is kind of weird, but you’ll excuse it, for this painting.

Eventually, you realize that you should probably get going.

You’ve been standing so long that your legs are starting to ache, and there’s countless other Saturday errands you have to run- doing your laundry, buying groceries, calling up your mom- boring Saturday things to do.

You leave the red woman, regrettably. The fabric of your sleeve comes back dry when you wipe your eyes, even though you feel fully washed away, feel like you’re floating as you drift over to the elevator.

The doors slide open and a few people file out, and then it’s empty, thankfully. You step inside, press the button for the ground floor, wait for the doors to fully close-

“Wait,” a voice calls.

You’re not rude- you press the button to hold open the door.

When it fully opens, Steve steps inside, followed by Bucky.

You’re still out of it. You don’t even realize who they are, not until the doors have slid shut and the floor jolts as the elevator starts its descent and they’ve been staring at you for a solid five seconds.

“Oh, hi,” you say, after too much silence. You need to get yourself together. “You guys came!”

Put a little pep in your step! And more joy in your voice- nobody wants to listen to someone so drained.

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to see it.”

Bucky just smolders, clearly saying with his silence, “I didn’t.”

“Did you like it?”

Steve considers your question. The elevator stops at another floor and the doors slide open, but there’s nobody waiting to step inside. You wait for Steve to gather his words together, sure that he’s trying to come up with a nice way to voice whatever he’s thinking, which is definitely not nice. There’s no way that he liked the art, not one chance.

“It was… intriguing,” he says, at last. Neither of them are wearing hats today, because the museum doesn’t allow it. Even in this artificial light, his hair shines, golden-blond. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you say, without wasting a second. “The one of the red woman- it’s probably the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

“It’s only January,” Bucky grumbles.

His voice shocks you, sends an ice-cold jolt up your spine that you definitely dislike.

Steve turns to him, peering over your shoulder, surprised and disappointed. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes and you stand in the midst of it, waiting for the goosebumps to settle back down, waiting for the chill to go away.

It’s difficult- he clearly doesn’t like you, either- and even if he has his own troubling little backstory, which you don’t care enough about to google, it’s not justified.

But…

It almost makes his aggression... amusing.

“It is January,” you say politely, dismissing him. “Great observation.”

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors side open. You exit in step with Steve, with Bucky right on your heels.

You all stand around in the museum lobby, a wide hallway down from the giftshop and a small cafe.

“Are you headed out?” Steve asks. He puts his hands in his pockets, feet planted wide.

Bucky crosses his arms. He’s wearing all black. If it were anyone else, you would make a joke- he could almost pass off as a pretentious art student, if the outlines of his body weren’t so visible through his clothes, all taut muscle and sharp angles. His hair curls over his shoulders, prettier than anything you’ve seen on any girl.

These guys are Avengers, you think, and proceed to push the thought away.

They look so… un-Avenger-y.

“Um.” You press a hand against your forehead, trying to formulate a response. Chores suddenly seem miles away, the last thing you should be doing. You have all of Sunday to complete them, anyway.

“I was going to get something to eat from the cafe first,” you say, nodding over in its direction. “You guys wanna join me?”

You don't know why you look at Bucky when you say it

“Sure!” Steve says, all cheery, still standing alongside you. He smiles and his teeth are pearly white.

Of course his teeth are pearly white. Dentists everywhere are probably cowering, clutching their little metal instruments for dear life.

Then he hesitates, and turns to Bucky. “If you have nothing else to do, I mean.”

Bucky pauses. You and Steve both stare him down.

“They have these raspberry-almond muffins that are to die for,” you say, like it’ll convince him.

He rolls his eyes. Bored and still gorgeous- if only.

“I’m free,” he says, and you don’t know why he looks at you when he says it.

You pay the bored teenager working the cash register with cash. He gives you your change, and when he turns away to prepare your order, you shove half of the bills and all of your coins into the tip jar.

Bucky sits at the farthest table with Steve. His knees can barely fit underneath it, and the tabletop is sticky, and he’s now willingly spending more time here, and with no disguise there is no way that he isn’t going to be recognized by someone, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t fully booked it yet.

Because…

He doesn’t know.

Maybe because you’re not asking for anything from him, aren’t minding that he’s sullen or unapproachable or anything else- his presence seems to be enough for you, which is bothersome, and at the same time, mildly exciting.

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, while you smile at the teenager handing you plates of muffins, little glasses of some milky-espresso-coffee drink.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, while you start your journey back to the table, and Steve opens his mouth to respond, already bothered, and Bucky’s already guilty, but then Steve hops up to help you carry everything back.

You sit down laughing. Steve is laughing, too. The corners of your eyes crease and he can see all of your teeth, and you look at him for a split second, and then turn away before he can get a read on your expression.

He sits in silence, while you and Steve trade jokes and stories and easy banter, talking about art and local politics and all types of things he can’t bring himself to care about, things that Steve is relishing in. You’re witty, apparently, or at least quick enough to get a few quick laughs out of Steve, and Bucky would never say it, he’s barely thinking it, but he appreciates you for it.

And the muffin isn’t quite to die for, but it’s okay.

During a lull in the conversation, you break your attention away from Steve and turn back to Bucky. You look concerned, almost, still smiling but without showing all of your teeth, leaning towards him like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“I never apologized for before,” you say, and Bucky immediately sits up on edge.

Even Steve goes wary, eyes narrowing.

You suddenly give a long, weary sigh, and press a hand against the back of your neck, like whatever you’re about to say is going to be so tedious. “For my friend flipping out when she saw you guys- she’s literally crazy, she’s always doing too much- but on her behalf, I’m sorry.”

The silence following afterwards is deafening.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, after a long moment, while you’re still looking at Bucky- your eyes make his skin itch, and he doesn’t say anything else. “She’s not the worst that we’ve gotten.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, great,” you say, and you slump back in your seat, looking away, back to your half-eaten muffin. You pick off an almond from the top and eat it. “Glad we got that out of the way. I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, so polite, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve his thanks. “Have you known her for a long time?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you say, and readjust yourself in your chair again, accidentally bumping your knee against Bucky’s, but not apologizing for it. He glances underneath the table, at your entire bare knee, visible through a rip in your jeans. “Rina- her name is Rina- was my college roommate for a while.”

“You went to college?” Steve asks.

“I have an art degree,” you say dryly, “which was… an okay decision, I guess. Sometimes I think I should have just dropped out and done, like, stand-up or something.”

You clearly don’t want to discuss it, leaving the last part as some sort of rhetorical joke. Steve takes the hint and nods, already closing the chapter, and you take a sip from your little glass, finally silent. The foam on the top of the drink sticks to your mouth until you lick it off. Bucky replies to it anyway.

“Why stand-up?”

You turn to him so fast that he almost misses you faltering, and give him a dazzling smile. He thinks of your bare knee under the table, and tries not to sweat. “Because I’m funny, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like how his name sounds when you say it. “Tell me a joke.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and clasp your hands together. Steve is watching, rapt at attention. “Let me think real quick- oh, I have one. Which beverage has a black belt in karate?”

Bucky waits.

You wait, expecting something from him.

It’s Steve that has to say, “I don’t know, which beverage?”

“Fruit punch,” you say, exaggerating the last part, and Bucky just keeps on waiting.

Steve cracks a small smile.

“Let me tell you another,” you say. “What type of phone does a piece of fruit carry?”

Steve takes a few wild guesses. He’s enjoying this, and you are too, both of you feeding off of each other. “A phone-fruit. A fruit-phone. A frone?”

You shake your head. “A blackberry.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Tough crowd,” you say, when he doesn’t react. “Don’t worry, I have more. Where do you go on red and stop on green?”

“Where?’ Steve asks, waiting, leaning forward in anticipation.

“When you’re eating a watermelon!”

It is not funny, it’s painfully unfunny, and maybe that’s why you and Steve burst out laughing. Bucky steals a glance at your watch, since he doesn’t wear one of his own. It’s nearing noon- how has so much time passed? Why is he still even here when he doesn’t even like you?

“Why are all of them about fruit?”

You look at him like his question is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. “What food is the best listener?”

Bucky just sits. All the foam in his little espresso thing has dissolved, having been left untouched. He doesn’t like the taste of coffee- too bitter, and caffeine doesn’t work on him, anyway. Maybe he should drink it, because you paid for it, and because you didn’t make a comment about old-fashioned manners or chivalry when Steve offered to at first, just shrugged and got in line.

He knows that you won’t care.

The drink sits on its own, glass beading with condensation.

“Corn is the best listener,” you say, without waiting for Steve to throw his questions or guesses at you, without waiting for Bucky to spit out another sentence. “Because it’s all ears.”

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, and glares at the spot beside your head.

You nod sympathetically, and he thinks again of the rips in your jeans. “I know. But it was about a vegetable.”

Oh.

You stare at him straight-faced, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve does the same, and then he realizes- the two of you are a bunch of kids, punks, juveniles- mocking his stature, pretending to be serious, somehow not offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You’re…”

He can’t even help it. He looks back at you  and his face works on its own. He gives a single, dry chuckle, but he’s smiling, and dragging his hand over his face, scrubbing it off just as fast, but you still see it, and smile back and gently nudge his knee again underneath the table, and then turn back away again, and he’s still staring at your hair while you take big bite out of your to-die-for raspberry-almond muffin, already back in conversation with Steve.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

the closest i’ve been to a bar was at ballet class

summary: just some smut building up to 🎟🩰(that’s a ticket and ballet slippers in case you aren’t reading this on mobile)

pairings: reader x natasha romanoff, reader x steve rogers, reader x carol danvers, reader x ...someone 👀

word count: a little under 12,000

warnings: everything. as usual, all kinds of sex in here. i can’t remember all of it. some is pretty rough so avoid if that is not your thing.

a/n: so...i may have added a fourth and bc i’m a jerk, i’m not yet tagging who... but i’ve been thirsting for this character so hard lately and idk why! i’m done tho, i swear! no more. none.

a/n2: so, obviously there is no show here and they have yet to find out about each other but i started writing that but this all happened first and it would have been like a billion words. so part 3 will be coming!

a/n3: part 1

Your ballet instructor was Natasha’s number one enemy. It had started almost instantly. As with her experiences in ballet, she felt that your instructor was someone who simply needed to be watched. She said ballet instructors were hardly ever completely honest, they always had ulterior motives.

You highly doubted your instructor—a 38-year-old woman with an amazing husband and three adorable children—was up to no good. But you couldn’t take another lecture!

Natasha liked to remind you that she had been at this for a long time. Sure, she was paranoid, sometimes. But other times, she was very much correct and that was enough for her. She just wished you would put your guard up sometimes.

So she claimed, anyway. And she was convincing, but at the end of the day, she was glad you weren’t jaded and cynical. It meant she got to take care of you. It meant that she got to protect you in all the ways she knew how—threats, murder maybe.

She was waiting for you at your apartment around noon after practice was over. Her eyes sought out any signs of stress. You knew you looked tired—a big show was coming up, that same show you knew was going to conclude this whole sneaking around thing you had going on. You also knew there was a huge bruise on your shin and arm that she would be furious about when she undressed you.

"Hungry?" she inquired. No 'hello', no 'I missed you', but Natasha liked to save that for when you were falling asleep. She really thought you wouldn't remember how sappy she'd gotten in the morning. You let her pretend because the alternative was no sappiness.

"Starving. Are we going somewhere?"

"Let’s stay in, I’ll make something."

You opened your apartment for her and she waltzed right in. She directed you to change as she headed for the kitchen.

You didn’t have the energy to try to hide the bruises. It was better to get it out of the way. Besides, were you going to say no when she wanted to fuck you?

You chose a tiny bra top and a pair of tiny shorts. Maybe your ass would distract her.

She was at the counter, waiting to see what you came out in. A box of pasta in front of her, a few jars and a saucepan off to her side. It wasn’t anything too crazy but you were okay with that, and at least she wouldn’t get to tease you in that restaurant she loved taking you to.

Concept: picture that scene from a movie where the rich, white man has his favorite restaurant that he takes his billions of too-young, way-out-of-his-league dates to and the staff is used to not mentioning any of the terrible things they see to his wife. Now, take that vision and place it on Natasha. Subtract all the dates and the wife and that Natasha was out of your league, and that had you sitting at her usual table of her favorite overpriced, noisy, terribly lit restaurant at least once a week. At least you were starting to make friends with all of the hostesses and most of the servers. But they weren't naive, they knew when Natasha was, in a sense, in a mood, and they knew when to be succinct but still helpful. That was what made part of The Incident possible—

"What is that bruise?" she demanded, startling you out of your thoughts.

You contemplated the innocent act for a moment, but you'd rather be dismissive. It was just quicker. "Nat, I'm fine—"

"Did you get that in class?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

You sighed. "When I was leaving class. I fell walking down the stairs."

"Because you’re so tired!"

"I am not that tired," you protested.

"Y/N—"

You sauntered over to her, sliding in between her and the counter. "I guess I am a little tired but only because I’ve had some trouble falling asleep lately."

She already knew where you were going, but she would never refuse one of your challenges. You weren’t in charge, she was, and you wouldn’t know that if she was too soft with you. She sighed, "why is that?"

"Because you haven’t fucked me in so long."

She rolled her eyes.

"When you tire me out, I sleep like a baby. Without you...I have to tire myself out and that can take forever."

She sighed, knowing she was not going to get you on a different path. "Forever, huh?"

You nodded. "I mean...I can think about you when I do it. Your mouth, your fingers... But it’s not the same."

"And how often, exactly, do you think about me?"

It was the closest she was ever going to get to asking where she stood with you. She knew there were others but she wanted to hear that she was special compared to the rest. She was, so special you couldn’t put it into words. But that didn't mean Steve and Carol weren't special in their way as well. You figured they were going to have a hard time wrapping their mind around that when they found out about this. A competition? Sure, they could understand that.

"Very often," you promised. "I missed you."

You craved them exactly as you had gotten used to having them in your life. The mornings had you longing to be with Natasha, staying in bed late while you thought about how she wasn’t going to be walking you to class or waiting for you after. Nights were reserved for Steve when you realized how empty your bed felt and wanted to have one of your under-the-covers conversations with him—a trend started in the winters when he would unintentionally wake you up because he was trying to slip out of bed, it was your way of keeping him there for just a little longer. Then there were weekends, random mid-days, and every Thursday night that Carol had you set aside just for her so she could take you to Maria's for dinner.

Natasha's hands settled on your hips. "I missed you, too. But that doesn’t mean I don't want to hit your damn teacher."

"Why waste time?"

"I’m nearly retired," she countered. "I have the time."

"No, you really don’t." You slowly removed your shirt and then shimmied out of your shorts before kicking them away. "All of your time needs to be spent on me, not worrying about my teacher."

Natasha always looked at you like she’d never seen anything quite so beautiful regardless of how little time elapsed from the last, but there was something different this time. For the first time since she’d met you, your skin was an unpainted canvas. Steve and Carol had been gone as well and that meant there were no bruises anywhere because there was no one else.

Natasha liked marking you up because Steve did—not that she knew that, but it was a possessive outlet for them both. Steve’s marks were always bigger, bigger fingers, bigger love bites, she’d known instantly that he was a man—random, inconsistent. Hers were smaller, healed quicker, but no doubt sent the message that you were fucking a woman. Something she wanted to be known to whoever else was sharing your bed.

She lifted you onto the counter, leaving your hips hanging over the edge as she dropped to her knees. Immediately, her mouth was set to your inner thigh where she nipped at your skin and kissed after. She never once took her eyes off you as she switched legs..

You wouldn’t beg, even after the eighth time she made that switch. You knew she had her plans and not even you could change them. That didn’t mean you weren’t dripping and squirming, cursing her for being so thorough, however.

She shoved your legs apart wide as she stood, dipping down to run her tongue through you slowly, just once.

You shuddered when she caught your clit. "Natasha—"

"Hush." She eyed your pussy, then the rest of you. "You are delicious, baby. I can’t believe I had to go so long without tasting you." She chose your hip bones to mark up next but finally, slid two fingers inside you. She didn’t move them, she just wanted to fill you up a little.

You clenched around them several intentional times and she didn’t bat an eye. She was trying to drive you crazy; she hadn’t said it but the second you tried to take, if you rolled your hips, if you grabbed her arm and attempted to rush her, she would make you wait longer.

She trailed up to your breasts, small kisses scattered without pattern before she started to bite and suck until your skin was numbly tingling. You knew her game was over when she pressed her lips to yours.

You wasted no time, opening your mouth for her tongue and moaning out of the sheerest need. There was just something about Natasha’s lips that could always get you weak. They were beautiful to look at but they felt even better gliding across your skin, kissing, sucking.

She was the one who pulled away, turning down to look at her fingers still inside you. "You are soaking my hand."

Now you grabbed her forearm, pulling her fingers in deeper. "Fuck me, please."

She acted as if she was thinking about it, arched her eyebrow and curled her fingers once, twice, and then yanked them away from you.

Your eyes widened up at her. What the hell?

"Go sit at the table while I finish making the pasta."

Your mouth dropped a little. "Um...?"

"Hurry up," she ordered.

She was serious, dead serious. You slid off the counter, leaning down to reach for your clothes.

"I didn’t tell you to get dressed," she pointed out. With her hands on your arms, she stood you back up and turned you around. You went to move away but she grabbed your ass and leaned down to kiss your cheek, then gently urged you forward. "Sit down, stop pouting. Be a good girl or else I won’t be fucking you, understood?"

No, hell no, not understood. At all! But you didn’t say any of that as you moved for the table. No, no, no way in hell.

Steve teased, even Carol had her tendencies to make you wait, but Natasha was different. After that first time in the studio, she had never again made you wait for something that you wanted. She gave and gave until you shamelessly flaunted how spoiled you were to anyone who would listen—mostly the ballerinas from class. It was that Natasha didn’t need to be as in control as them, it was that it didn’t need to be some power struggle.

Maybe she was trying something different, but that meant that you could do that, too. Instead of sitting in a chair like a boring mouse, you turned to her and sat on the table instead.

She was pouring the box of pasta in the pot, but she turned up to arch an eyebrow at you.

You lifted one leg, then the other, setting the arches of your feet on the edge of the table. You were obscenely spread for her and she acted as if that wasn’t unnatural.

You brought your hand down to your pussy, two fingers slowly tracing circles around your clit. You watched her watching you the entire time, there was never a break in her resolve. But you were too far now to just quit, besides that was more than likely was her feigned indifference was trying for.

She didn’t stop making the pasta either, but that was how you knew you were winning. She was trying to speed dinner along because she was going to remind you that she was in charge.

It was so cute that they believed that. You worried that she may not let you finish that night, so even if you wanted to give her that little bit of obedience you could manage, you weren't convinced it was in your best interest.

Your hand began to move frantically as you cried out her name because you were just mean like that. Your eyes closed and your head fell back as you took in two of your fingers. Your hips rose to grind against the heel of your palm, around that time you were almost certain you’d heard something clatter in the kitchen.

Your finish was little more than a show, an end you’d drawn yourself to many times in their absence but one that you played up. It felt as good as it could have but you needed them, nothing else could suffice. That didn't mean you weren't acting like it was the best orgasm you'd ever had.

You came down quickly and did so without a word or even another glance at her. You climbed off the table, sat in a chair, and looked at her once more.

She looked down at the counter in front of her and shook her head. Yep, you were in major trouble, but you deemed it well worth it.

After an uneventful meal, she took you to the bedroom where she edged you ruthlessly. She was trying to get you to apologize for misbehaving, but you refused. Well, until she told you that she wasn't going to give you the presents she brought you back from Paris. (Later, you opened a new pair of thigh-high boots and a diamond choker with a dangling charm of cursive letters spelling out angel.)

And finally, when you gave in and apologized, she herself was worked up beyond comprehension and set your cunt over her face so she could eat you out until you were crying and delirious. Thankfully, she didn’t stop even though you begged her to, not until she was satisfied.

That was the first night Natasha stayed over. She kept her arms wrapped around your bare torso to keep you pinned to her as tightly as possible. You felt her running her hands through your hair until you fell asleep, enjoying the sound of her breathing in the quiet room.

In the morning, you woke first. You were able to watch her sleep for a while, surprised by how peaceful she looked. And you were caught off by how good she looked in your bed, her red hair fanned out over your pink pillowcases, the sunlight filtering through the blinds and layering her in gold light. 

Her arms were slack around you, her right falling away as you sat up. You situated yourself on her side, crossing your top leg over her hip. You took her hand in yours, guiding two of her fingers to your already wet pussy.

You teased your clit for several minutes, careful not to wake her just yet. When you were ready, you slid down on two of her long fingers. Still, she was not woken by you.

You rolled your hips desperately, moaning every time your clit swept against her palm. You felt her fingers curl on their own and moaned louder, an attempt to get her conscious.

When her eyes shot open, they focused on you instantly. You continued to fuck yourself on her fingers, setting your head on the pillow next to hers and staring in her eyes.

"Fuck," she whispered. Then she was up and urging you onto your back. She spread your legs wide and slotted herself between them. She started slow, hands groping your breasts as she dragged her pussy against yours. 

She was deliciously slick, you could feel her cunt dripping onto yours. Wet sounds filled the room, along with the small, desperate noises that spilled from your open mouth.

When she knew she was close, she used your thigh as leverage, moving quicker. It was a breath-taking scene when Natasha got lost in pleasure. She shut her eyes, tilted her head back and her red curls lined her back, her breasts bounced hard because that was how she was fucking you. She didn’t stop until you were both screaming each other's name and coming.

She collapsed on top of you, mouth lazily seeking out yours. "That’s the best way I’ve ever been woken up."

You smiled.

"Turn over, let me see your gorgeous ass."

You waited until she stepped off the bed to roll over, eagerly sticking your ass out for her. She had never asked you to do this so you were excited to see where she would take it.

You heard her get back on the bed and then felt her hands gripping your ass hard.

"You have such a beautiful ass."

You smirked, glancing back at her.

She set her body flat against your back and you titled your head just so you could kiss her. She began grinding her cunt against your ass, nipping at your lips as she moaned. One of her hands slithered down between your pussy and the mattress, her fingers circling your sensitive flesh skillfully.

Her soaking pussy brushed over your ass desperately, you could feel her soaking you all the way down the back of your thigh. She got herself off on your skin, never once easing up on your clit even though you’d finished and were terribly oversensitive to her touch. Instead, once again, she stopped only when she wanted to.

And if you thought that would be the end, you didn’t know her very well. She sat up and brought you with her. She took your hips in her hands and situated you over one of her thighs, her front pressed to your back once again. "Come on my thigh, baby, don’t stop until I tell you to."

You leaned over, using your elbows to keep your balance. You rode her thigh hard, making sure to give her quite the show of your ass. When you were reaching your end, you grabbed one of her hands and set it over your ass. She took the cue immediately, grabbing you, digging her fingers in.

When you finished, she shoved you flat onto the mattress. You were only half aware of what she was doing behind you, still floating from your orgasm. You snapped right out of that when you felt her lips against your ass. She kissed you several times before you felt her tongue against your hole.

You startled, hands fisting in the sheets. You were definitely surprised, you guys had never even approached this topic. But just as soon as you had felt her, she was gone. She turned you back over, kissed up your body, stopping only to worship your breasts. When she reached your mouth, she gave you an out-of-place chaste kiss and sat up. "Seriously, we need to get out of bed or I'm never going to stop fucking you."

When Carol opened her apartment door for you, things quickly changed. She gripped your arm and walked you to the couch where she forcefully sat you down. One thing was clear: she was in no mood to hear you speak.

"Stay." She headed to the kitchen where you heard cupboards being opened and slammed shut, the fridge a few times. Mostly, she was just walking around.

Perhaps you should have been scared, but you were just wet. So fucking wet.

She came back with a beer, glanced at you, then began pacing. "You’re..." she trailed off and shook her head before taking a long drink from the bottle in her hand. "I mean, I can’t even..."

It was definitely a mistake to laugh.

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, a clear warning, but one that you would not heed. "Just try to make me understand," she finally settled on. "What possessed you?"

"Well, you were gone for quite a while."

"So, you missed me?"

"Of course."

"So, you decide to be a brat?"

Was that supposed to make you regret acting out? It was a somewhat humiliating thing for her to call you but you didn’t dislike it. "Well, you weren’t paying enough attention to me."

Again, that sharp look that you were sure was supposed to make you backtrack. "I only pay attention to good girls, girls who behave."

You hummed, standing. "I suppose I should go home, then."

"Sit down," she growled.

Instead, you tossed your purse on the couch and slowly removed your jacket. Nat had left you covered in marks but she was secure enough in her place with you that she didn’t need to do so in a way that would inconvenience you. She understood you were a ballerina so she left your neck, shoulders, and chest mostly untouched. Your breasts, stomach, and thighs were another story, but you were still in a tiny ass skirt that allowed Carol to finger you in the car before you’d arrived at another little gathering Maria was having—who had more parties, her or Tony Stark? She was giving him a run for his money.

Which was where you’d started acting out. Carol had picked you up around noon and you were as sweet as could be. But around 3, you were suddenly hit with the realization that you wanted to be fucking her more than anything else. It started with a text about how you had taken off your underwear. She was having none of it, she told you this was not happening. You let her know that the scrap of lace was in her purse.

You sent a picture 30 minutes later. She warned you to stop. You sent a video showing her just how wet you were for her, then told her all the things you wanted her to do to you. All the things you had missed while she was away.

In total, you sent her 27 texts, 2 videos, and 7 pictures. You’d received 4 responses, but the final one was completely out of place. Show me your ass. You obliged but then nothing. She said nothing, she requested nothing further.

Did you feel as though you'd gone too far? Not exactly. Carol was definitely into the most public shit, making possible for the second part of The Incident. You still blushed thinking about that day.

She rolled her eyes at your display of disobedience, bringing the bottle to her lips once more. "Strip."

You didn’t need to be told twice. First, it was the shirt, and you paid no mind at all to what Natasha had left you with, but you noticed Carol's lingering gaze. Next, you pushed your skirt down and stepped out of her pumps you’d borrowed. You loved wearing heels when you were out with Carol, she was taller than you without and sometimes it brought you to her level or made you just a tad taller.

She made her way closer to you, setting her bottle on the coffee table off to her side. Abruptly, she grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you closer to her. "If you wanted me to get rough with, princess, all you had to do was ask."

You didn’t have time to respond before she was kissing you, greedy and demanding. But just as you reached up to touch her face, she yanked back and turned you around with her hands on your shoulders. She grabbed your hair once more and forced you down toward the table.

You were on your knees, bent over the edge, your breasts flat against the freezing glass. Your cheek was pressed so hard against the solid surface you almost couldn’t open your mouth to speak. "Carol—"

"Silence."

It was a while before you heard her move, she got down behind you and kept one hand on your head as the next began to feel through your folds.

She slipped one finger inside you, pulled back, then added another. She curled up against that spot that always made you buck your hips wildly, even though now you were digging into the sharp wooden border of the table she’d bent you over.

"You know how to drive, right, princess?"

You paused for a moment, confused.

"Answer me."

"Um, yes?"

"You know that when you reach a traffic light, green means go and red means stop, don’t you?"

"Yeah..."

"So, right now, bent over this table, your soaking cunt filled with my fingers, you are...?"

She was speaking slowly as if you were a child that could barely comprehend this conversation. Never mind that you were definitely getting lost and her fingers were turning your brain to mush. It was another humiliation tactic and you felt yourself blushing. She’d never been quite so...formal. "Green?"

"Are you asking or telling? Green means that you are still my desperate little whore that needs to be fucked hard."

"I’m green," you assured.

"And if at any point you feel like you need me to slow down or you are beginning to get worried or uncomfortable, if you need any verbal communication, you’re yellow. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And you understand if you need me to stop, if I’m hurting you or you don’t like what’s going on, you can tell me you are red and you know I won’t get mad at you?"

"Yes."

"One more time, what are you?"

"Green."

She pulled her fingers from inside you. "Arms on the table."

You hurriedly obeyed, gripping the edges hard. Carol never really spoke to you like this, it was all spoiling you in attention and affection. This was something else, something you hadn’t anticipated when you started this game.

She brought her hand down on the right side of your ass, your hips stuttered forward and your gasp and the echo of the smack filled the room. Your cheeks burned and your eyes filled with tears. It didn’t hurt, she was experimenting, but you knew it would eventually.

"And what are you now, princess?"

You swallowed, willing your voice to stay even. "Green."

She finally let go of your hair and you tilted your head a little just to get the pressure off your cheekbone. She repeated the slap on the opposite side with just a bit more pressure.

You shuddered and blurted out the same color. Your skin was stinging but you felt yourself growing wetter, your slick running down your thighs now.

She had you in this cycle until she found enough force that it was barely manageable. Tears were running down your cheeks, landing on the table and she had to hold you up on your knees because you no longer could.

She hummed. "These marks are going to be pretty in the morning."

You realized then where this came from. Had you come to her with the same attitude but without all of those marks Nat left you covered in, you probably never would have pushed Carol to this point. They had both officially found their ways to be just the slightest bit possessive.

"You sorry?"

You snorted. "No...are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You should have fucked me at the party if you really wanted me to stop sending you pictures and videos."

She rolled her eyes. "Stay here. I'm not joking."

You smirked as she stormed off to her bedroom. You knew what she would be coming back with. She returned naked, save for her strap. A smooth red dildo hung between her legs, one of the larger ones she owned.

You went to stand up but she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Crawl over here."

You lifted your eyebrows—crawl? Hadn't she just called you ‘princess’? But you could be a ‘whore’ since she called you that, too. On hands and knees, you made your way to her.

She reached down to grab your hair, pulling you up to stand on your knees. She said nothing else as she used her other hand to press the tip of the dildo against your lips until you opened your mouth. A struggle that ended with the sounds of you choking on the piece of silicone down your throat.

The rest of the night was spent on the couch. She made you ride her strap until you physically couldn't continue, which ended up being a bit after two in the morning. She didn't tease or edge, she allowed you to come as many times as you wanted to, in fact, she ordered it—unstated, but the threat that would come from not playing her game was clear.

She didn't help, however, she stayed still underneath you and didn't say a word. She just watched you, watched as you pathetically attempted to get her to break. You would kiss her, take her fingers and suck on them, place her hands over your breasts. A few times, you even got up, turning your back to her before sinking back down on the dildo, knowing that she would love the sight of your battered ass.

Steve understood your love of ballet.

Sure, Natasha knew what you were talking about and related to you somewhat, but she also had her opinions about ballet and sometimes she was a little closed off about your dancing. And hell, Carol would support you doing anything. Tap, softball, book club, Broadway, murder, she just wanted you to be happy.

With Steve, well, he sort of understood interests that left you a little battered and bruised. His new obsession (TM) was patching you up through those unanticipated injuries and wrapping your feet before you practiced at home to prevent injuries. It was a careful 20-minute process where he was utterly focused on making sure you were completely protected. And either he paid tremendous attention to you—his skills at quickly prepping your feet was enviable—or he had a thing for ballerinas. You were okay not knowing.

When he called you and told you he was coming over, you noticed something in his voice. It was different, not that usual sweet and doting tone, but you'd heard it before. Steve was always confident and assertive, but this was...something else. Something more. When he told you that you needed to get dressed in nothing more than a leotard, you wanted to be a brat and flat out refuse, maybe just tease, but you didn’t. You had enough sense to know that it wouldn’t get you the results you wanted.

You also had reason to be nervous. Carol had left you some nice marks. They didn’t really hurt anymore, but they were there. There was also no false illusion about what they were. Steve would know and you just weren’t sure how he would feel about them. Most of your ass was covered with what you were wearing but there were still the especially dark areas that could be seen through your one-piece, and there were a few bruises that extended the cut of your outfit. Not to mention, there was no way to hide what Natasha left on your upper thighs.

But you just decided to act like it wasn’t an issue. He was the one who said he couldn’t be your boyfriend, right? He couldn’t get upset over others leaving marks behind. At least that was what you kept repeating to yourself as you walked toward your barre in the corner of your apartment living room.

You began going through your usual warm-up routine, only glancing at him when you felt you wouldn’t be caught. He was laid out on the couch, eyes following your legs as if he hadn’t seen you do this a dozen times already. He was already hard, made more noticeable by the one leg draped over the edge of the cushions. His hand was on his thigh, fingers twitching just barely. The control he was trying to maintain was clear on his face, through his sharp blue eyes, his set jaw, and furrowed brow.

It was silent the entire time and your nerves were growing. Eventually, you would have to turn around and he would have the perfect view of your ass. He’d already noticed your thighs, you saw him eyeing you when he was prepping your feet for the pointe shoes. But he didn’t say anything and he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t allowed to. Right?

With a finishing soutenu turn, you were facing the opposite direction. You heard him sit up but then it was completely silent, minus your breathing and your shoes brushing along the floor.

When you were done, you stayed put. You’d gone as far as teaching him a lot of ballet vocabulary because he knew what he wanted to see and after your warm-ups, he would often direct you. It was always somewhat thrilling—apparently, you both shared this depraved ballerina kink. Maybe there had been role play—maybe he was the casting director and you were a desperate ballerina auditioning for a role, willing to do anything to get it, and maybe he pretended he had a million and one critiques for you, and maybe instead of having the talent, you got the role after you sucked him off.

“Face the barre. Run through your pliés.”

You turned to your side, pretending to be focused on keeping your hips squared and your pelvis locked. You could do pliés no problem, but the alternative was meeting his stare in the mirror and you were too nervous to do that. You completed the demi-pliés slowly and the grand pliés much the same. Normally, he would speak during this step, knowing that he wasn’t going to distract you, but nothing.

You waited for more instructions but they never came. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you startled—you hadn’t heard him get so close.

He just held you for a moment, pinned your back to his chest as he kissed the side of your face. His hands began to squeeze your breasts and you melted into him eagerly. But soon, gentle touching became rough grabbing and all you could do was watch him in the mirror. He looked at you like he was starving and he touched you like it had been ages.

One of his hand dropped down and grabbed your ass. You held on tighter to the barre, shuddering. "What do you call him?"

Because you just didn’t know what was good for you, you laughed. "Are you jealous?"

He gripped you harder, bringing down his other hand to join. "I don’t need to be. What do you call him?"

'I’m not fucking another man," you informed, amusement still clear in your tone. Steve Rogers jealous, you never thought you’d see the day.

"Then what do you call her?"

She had you call her captain, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that. "What do you want me to call you?" you purred. "Sir?"

"No."

You hummed. “Master? You don’t strike me as the type, but you’re weird enough that I wouldn’t be surprised."

"No."

"Then I’m not sure what you want, Steve." You did know, you’d always had the suspicion since he liked to take care of you and loved calling you baby girl.

"I won’t ask you again," he finally said. He didn’t much care what you were doing with other people, but he did have a special liking to your ass. Maybe he was just mad that someone was spanking you before he was.

When it came to Steve, you knew how to get under his skin. You always knew just what to say to shock him and he could pretend all he wanted that he didn’t love when you would say the filthiest things to him, but you knew better. And after he just handed you this, how were you supposed to resist? "I don’t think I’ll have enough time to answer."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, are we on a clock?"

You shrugged, leaning back to set your head on his shoulder. "Well, yeah, if you want to fuck me before mom gets home."

He scoffed, averting his gaze forward.

You knew you’d caught something though, his hands tightened on your hips and his jaw was doing that thing.

"You are sick."

You snorted. "And you’re hard, so."

He turned you abruptly, pinning you between his body and the barre. "Fine, what’s the story?"

You hummed. "You met my mom in a bar, you liked her, you started this all with the purest intentions. But then you stayed over one night, and there I was. You’ve tried fighting it—"

"But you don’t make it easy," he sighed.

You smirked. "I’m sorry, daddy. Really."

Any last reluctance he had was destroyed when you called him daddy. "Well, baby girl, daddy really isn’t okay that you’ve been letting so many other people fuck you."

You shrugged. "Maybe I was practicing."

He scoffed, fully aware of how you were intending to turn this. "Practicing. For what?"

"You. I just wanted to make sure I was good when you fucked me."

He hummed, turning you away once again. "And are you?"

"Good?"

"Mhm."

"The best," you promised.

"Baby, I don’t know how I feel about sharing you. What if I wanted to be your first?"

"I—"

He brought his hand up to your neck and you fell silent. "Daddy is really disappointed."

Rarely did Steve commandeer your scenes. Mostly, he pretended that he was just humoring you, then he fucked you well enough that you weren’t in the position to tease him afterward. It was a great system. But you weren’t complaining that he was suddenly changing things.

"Are you sorry for letting me down?"

You nodded quickly. It was surprising how naturally he could commit to this character.

"How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I’ll do anything," you promised.

He took his other hand, palm sliding over your ass. "Have I ever told you how much I love your ass?"

"No."

"I do... you ever had your ass fucked?"

That was a huge no. The men you had been with up to that point, prior to Steve, did not meet your standards that well. There was lacking trust, skill, most of them couldn’t define 'foreplay' if their lives depended on it. And after, well, Carol was the only one who liked straps so much and she’d never brought it up.

"No."

"No?"

You were about to repeat the answer when his hand came down on your ass. It (illogically) was the last thing you were expecting and you pathetically squeaked before you could stop yourself.

"You know what I want you to call me. Correct?"

"Yes, daddy. No, I’ve never been fucked there."

"You want daddy to fuck you there?"

"Will daddy forgive me?"

"Maybe."

Pouting, right now? Steve Rogers knew no bounds. "Yes, daddy, I want you to fuck me there."

"Spread your legs and hold the barre."

You hurriedly did as he asked, watching his face in the mirror. His eyes were focused on your ass, the way you moved, the way you were teasing him by leaning over just a little.

First, he moved your suit aside and buried two fingers inside you. You were obscenely wet, something he chuckled at.

You would have blushed, had you not already been. He pumped his fingers in and out, ordering you to watch, even though you couldn’t see much with your leotard in the way. When he added another finger, you squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"Does that hurt?"

"A little, daddy." It always hurt, taking Steve was always an adjustment process. The first few times, uncomfortable, an orgasm without his fingers rubbing quick circles around your clit was impossible. You were getting used to him, it was still a stretch, you’d just grown to like that ounce of pain because you knew how much pleasure was going to follow.

"Well, imagine how they’re going to feel in your ass. Then imagine how my cock will feel. Worried?"

"No, daddy. I like it when you hurt me."

He thrust his fingers a tad indelicately and your hips jerked.

Ass—obviously you’d said that to get a rise out of him, but still, rude. You had completely soaked through your thick suit by the time he pulled his fingers out, and not a single finish to show for it. But you figured he knew what he was doing, he’d probably had experience with this before so you were fine letting him run the show.

He pulled the material over your ass so he could watch you take his fingers.

"Take it off, daddy," you pleaded, voice all weak and breathy. You were pathetic.

"Can’t, baby. If your mom walks in, you can’t be naked."

You whined unintelligibly. Was he serious right now?

"Don’t misbehave," he warned. "I don’t want to have to punish you. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy." You set your forehead to the bar, angling your head so you could still see his face.

"Are you ready?"

You nodded slightly. "Yes, daddy." You startled a bit when you felt his finger, taking a breath when he told you to. The first finger didn’t hurt but you felt impossibly full—he was right, how were you going to take him? There was a sting when he got to his knuckle but he told you to relax so you tried.

His opposite hand reached through the suit where he pressed his fingers flat to your clit and began to massage them over you, back and forth, with a toe-curling pace and pressure. He pumped his finger in and out of your ass until you were crying out about your approaching orgasm. His finger felt different now, better, and you weren’t sure any finish had ever built up so intensely.

Before you could find out, he stopped touching your clit, dipping his first two fingers down to tease your entrance. It was then that he decided to add another finger to the one working on opening your ass for him. He was quick about it, slid one finger out, shoved two in.

You threw your head back, moaning loudly.

"Starting to feel good, baby?"

"Yes, daddy." Maybe just the looming promise of the right kind of pain, but not necessarily good. Not yet.

He continued his pattern of edging you until he had four fingers inside your ass. Your legs were shaking and his other hand was completely soaked. He never stopped talking, telling you about all the times he had thought about fucking you like this, how he touched himself during these fantasies, how he was going to make you feel better than you’d ever felt.

Steve wasn’t the most forthcoming man. He didn’t lie, never, but sometimes he kept things so completely to himself and you never had a clue. When did this obsession with your ass start, and how? And if Carol had never spanked you, would he even be doing this now? What other fantasies was he keeping to himself?

"Do you want to go to your bedroom, doll?"

"Not yet."

"Do you want your mother to catch us?" he joked.

You snorted. "Maybe I do."

He leaned over you, kissing the side of your face. "You know, I’m just saying, if you really did have a mom and I was your stepfather and was trying to fuck you on a clock, we would have definitely been caught by now."

You couldn’t possibly refrain from smiling. "You’re such a dork, Steve."

He smiled a little. "You think you’re ready?"

"Yes."

He arched an eyebrow at you. "Don’t drop the act now, baby girl."

You scoffed. "Yes, daddy. I’m ready." You watched him in the mirror as he moved his pants out of his way, something he eventually had to remove his fingers to do. You immediately missed that full feeling.

He adjusted your leotard out of his way once more, opposite hand leading his cock to you. He pressed in just barely, allowing you time to adjust or to protest if this was a failed experiment. You guys had had a few of those. Beyond handcuffs, he did not like tying you up. You guys actually weren’t overly into public sexual situations, save for the final act of The Incident. And phone sex was something that only occurred in times of true desperation. This would not be making the same list.

He folded his hands over your hip bones, pulling you back further on his cock. Your mouth dropped and your eyes slammed shut. It didn’t feel natural, it was like your body was trying to push back at him but well, Steve was nothing if not stubborn. He just kept pushing and pushing until your ass was flush against him.

It felt like an eternity when he started to pull out and then another eternity when he thrust back in, but you enjoyed every second. You felt high by the time his hips were moving easily, steadily. It was this maddening feeling like you were on the edge of something really good but he wouldn’t touch you anywhere else and it just wasn’t enough to finish. You suspected he knew that.

His hands moved up your hips and your waist until he could grab your shoulders. He stood you up, his hips stilling, your back flat to his chest. Just when you thought you he couldn’t get any deeper inside you. He pressed his hands up until he closed around your breasts. He pinched your nipples through the material, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"Let’s go to the bedroom."

He would have a much better angle to watch, of course. Two months prior, you were days away from a huge audition so you were either at the studio or at home practicing. One night when you arrived home at nearly 10, it just felt like something wasn't right. Like someone had been in your apartment, nothing looked off. You just felt it.

You didn't lock the door behind you, just in case. You kept hold of your phone. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha that day and you worried she wouldn’t answer, she didn’t generally stay awake so late. And well, it wasn’t like Steve was a stranger to your AM calls or texts. But Carol lived closer and would have been there in a second if you’d needed her.

You made yourself move, tomorrow was another busy day. You flipped on your bedroom light, nearly sprinting straight back out when you saw flowers on your bed. But fear was quickly replaced with all sorts of confusion.

It looked like an expensive bouquet and there was a card right next to it. And see, these were not roses or daisies, these were dahlias—dark red, full, extra flowers. And who was more extra than... As the card read—ding, ding, ding. Steve Rogers. 

When you’re not so busy, we’ll try it out. 

Fear soon returned. Oh no, you thought to yourself. What could he have possibly done? It took you only three more seconds to find a full ass mirror over your bed. At the moment, you were stunned, but once more, pulled yourself out of it with your insistence of sleep. You did not have time for this.

However, when you were in bed, your phone charging next to you, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Of course. You had to call Steve. He’d broken into your home, or allowed others to break into your home, without your permission. All to put a fucking mirror over the god damn bed? He was insane, you realized.

"Hey, doll."

He sounded so smug. "You’re sick."

"Hmm, does that mean you don’t like it?"

"That means what I said: you’re sick."

"Take your clothes off."

You snorted. "Who said I’m wearing any?"

As mentioned, this wasn’t your usual routine with him. Steve loved seeing you, feeling you—phone sex just didn’t cut it. But who knew when you would have time for him next?

"There are many toys in your bedside table, pick one now."

You eagerly obliged, spreading your legs and fucking yourself with a vibrator he’d used on you several times. He told you to watch, to not take your eyes off the mirror.

The mirror added to discovering that Steve Rogers liked role-play had been some of the most pleasant surprises of your life. It was fun for both of you, never a question about when or where. When either of you wanted it, the other was always up for it. You’d thought it was just a one-time thing after the ballet incident, but then he found handcuffs in your room, which believe it or not, you hadn’t actually been using for sex. They were sex handcuffs, but they were just part of your costume to the Valentine's Day party Carol had taken you to, thrown by the lovely Maria.

Regardless, he asked you about them and you dismissed them. He then “arrested” you for “being a brat”. That got you bent over the kitchen counter as he fucked you from behind. He had you beg him to let you go but didn’t stop until his cum was dripping out of you onto the floor.

Then he’d noticed you were struggling in one of your classes and offered a prize for doing well on an upcoming exam. Of 50 questions, you’d only missed 4. He laid you out on your bed and told you he was going to eat you out. After the first time, you attempted to pull him up to you, gasping about how you needed him inside you, please Steve. He grabbed your hands and held them down, ordering you to call him professor Rogers. 

Then there was the loose sugar daddy scene. He’d bought you a diamond choker on one of his trips away and it was stunning. You felt spoiled and wanted him to feel the same. You got on your knees and stayed there until you were sure your jaw was going to suffer permanent damage if you kept your mouth open that wide for much longer. It was three days later that he sent you a screenshot of your Instagram post about the diamond choker and told you to get dressed exactly how you were in the photo. So, in a rose pink wig, a tiny pink satin dress, a dangerously high pair of red heels, and the diamond choker. He didn’t use your name when finally got to your apartment, he called you baby and made you ride him, fully dressed, until you couldn’t sit up on your own.

Then there was the time Steve Rogers actually sent you the address to a sex shop and told you to meet him there. You’d had no idea until you pulled up to the building but you knew immediately that you were going to enjoy this. He asked you to help him find toys that his wife would enjoy—you told yourself you could play along, but you definitely needed to smack him upside the head later. When he got you in the car, after a little back and forth, you being somewhat mouthy, he placed one of the vibrators inside you and wouldn’t turn it off. His fingers paid attention to your clit the entire drive home.

Your payback for that was you dressed as one of his former chorus girls. A designer at the university that you’d met because she always made the costumes for the show was all too happy to help. You sent him a picture of the outfit then flipped the skirt up to show him you weren’t wearing underwear. The absolute last thing you expected was for him to show up in one of his suits. He was wild almost animalistic, he made you scream so loud that three different neighbors came to check if you were okay. Which had been a great source of pride to him.

Then you bought a stripper pole. It took 7 entire classes before you had any idea what you were doing. Though he appreciated it, it was a requirement of patience that he did not want to execute. Natasha, though,

Natasha loved watching you dance. Carol had the same problem as Steve but if you let Natasha, she would watch you for hours.

When you woke up, it was because Steve was getting out of bed. You glanced at the clock, 4 in the morning. He was getting up for his run, then he'd head out to the tower for another day at the office.

He fucked you again before he left. He had you on top of him, chest to chest, his arms wrapped tight around your back, one hand on the back of your head to hold you to the bend of his neck. He liked to do this with the mirror. He liked holding you flat against him and then watching your ass as he fucked you fervidly. He had become wild and insatiable since the mirror's arrival.

Natasha liked to lay you down, tie your legs to the bedpost, sometimes your arms, and would spend hours teasing you with her mouth. Sometimes, when she knew you weren’t too tired, she would tell you to finger yourself and she would stay next to you and watch in the mirror for as long as you would allow it.

Carol liked making you ride her and you couldn’t deny that was a beautiful scene to watch play out from above. She also liked to turn you away from her, settle directly behind you, drape your leg back over her hip, and fuck you with one of her straps.

They had their shared interests, that was undeniable. You still blushed every time you thought about The Incident. It occurred four months ago. They’d been on a short trip; not even a mission, they’d promised, they’d told you it was more politics than saving the world. The first one you saw when they got back was Carol.

She had texted you while you were out with friends and asked where you were. You informed her that you would be shopping alone after lunch. She joined you because she had a present that she just couldn’t wait. It was a vibrator that she could control from her phone. She never used it while you were walking, concerned that you may actually fall and hurt yourself but if you stopped to look at something or sat down for even a second, it was on.

Natasha had taken you to the restaurant. She told you to go to the bathroom and take off your bra and panties and she handed you her purse to place them in. She made you sit down next to her, slipped the same vibrator inside you, then made you sit on her lap for the entire night. She let you watch her phone, let you know when she was going to speed up or slow down, and all she did the entire night was sip on her wine and keep a tight hold on you so you couldn't move away from her.

Two days later, Steve made you wear it to class. Not ballet class, actual classes where you would be sitting down. It was so random when you would feel it and it was terrifying as he wasn't there. You never knew when or where, or if you were standing up and reading! You wanted to hit him when you got back to your apartment and he was waiting for you. You didn't, but you were really upset. Mostly because he hadn't let you come the entire day.

You wanted to know why? You’d asked, but their answers were dismissive and it wasn’t like you could elaborate on what you actually meant. You weren’t just asking why, you were asking why all three? It was just one of those answers you weren’t going to get while you were still keeping secrets from them.

When Natasha showed up after Steve left, it was two hours before class. You were still in bed checking social media when she slipped under the covers and made you come with her mouth and fingers. You’d taken a shower since Steve left, fortunately.

She kissed up your body and settled on top of you. You undressed her, kissing her bare skin as soon as you exposed it, her arms, her chest, her stomach, her legs, her ass, her cunt. She wanted you on top, grinding against her as she watched in the mirror.

She walked you to class and you fingered her in the dimly lit hallway before she left. She picked you up afterward and made you eat since you simply did not have the time to before class. She walked you home, set up her phone on the table next to the couch, sat down, sat you on top of her, and made you ride her fingers. Sometimes, Natasha wanted videos.

In between your second and third lecture classes, the biggest gap in your day, Carol texted. She picked you up in her car and drove out to some hiking trails that she felt were empty enough. In the back of her car, she had you pressed down to the seats, ass up as she fucked you with her strap. She held the side of your face down against the leather, not so much that it would stifle your screams.

When you finished, she made you clean the seat with your tongue. You could distinctly tell the difference between her taste and yours. She watched you as she removed the strap, taking the dildo and fucking herself with it.

She laid back and let you on top, directing you to sink down on the dildo as it was still buried in her pussy. You didn’t stop taking it until your pussy was against hers, thankfully it wasn’t one of the longer ones in her collection. Leaning over, you used the side of the car to keep your balance. She rose onto her elbows, nipping and sucking at your nipples as you ground your wet center against hers.

This was a regular day, one you had grown to love, one you were completely obsessed with. You were scared. You felt that the likelihood of them all being okay with this was low. But you were not so scared that you would ever lie to them. Withhold information? Sure. Lie? Out of the question.

You'd finally confided in the ballerinas. They'd always known about Natasha because she was at practice all of the time, but you only told half-truths about Steve and Carol. You didn't actually want them to know that you were sleeping with three Avengers. Maybe it was because everyone was drunk, but they promised you that Natasha adored you and she wouldn't leave you.

Okay, but what about Steve and Carol? You were stressed, really stressed. During the preparation period for shows, when training was intense, the ballerinas often went out on Saturdays and got wasted and talked. This was why you were in a loud night club with dancing and alcohol, and no one who was going to stop any of you from getting in trouble.

You were impaired but you were not a bad friend. At the bar, you counted all of your friends. They would likely be leaving with someone as they had all found someone to dance with, you would make the rounds in a minute. It was a rule, if they wanted to leave with a guy, that guy had to give you his number. You would verify it right then and there by sending him a text, then they could be on their way.

It was one in the morning when the girls started leaving. You had a drink at your side and five new names (proven by ID) and numbers saved in your notes.

"That's sweet."

You turned to your left, eyebrows shooting up. Gorgeous blue eyes, long brown hair, and beautiful fair skin. Wanda Maximoff was either sitting right next to you at a bar or you were completely imagining her. Given your drunken state and your current obsession with her, it was possible.

"Well, they don't exactly agree...I read stories about guys and bars and how to avoid getting chopped up into little pieces."

She smiled a little. "Who makes sure you get home?"

"I live close."

She hummed. "Were you heading out?"

Yes, you should say yes. You should leave because this could not happen. You didn't know how to explain that you were sleeping with three of them! And Wanda was wearing this red dress that was really tight and so low cut, so, how would you explain four?!

"Maybe...after I finish my drink."

She eyed your glass for a moment. "I'm Wanda."

"I know. I'm Y/N."

"I think you're the first person who's recognized me all night."

"You're stunning. I don't know how anyone wouldn't recognize you."

She smiled slightly, turning back down to her glass.

There was something so wrong with you. Instead of leaving, you just wanted to sit there and drunkenly flirt, clearly.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

No, say no! "Sure."

It was two drinks later, technically three drinks later, since you finished your drink and then she bought you two more. Things were starting to get...closer. You guys were closer. You'd started out at a normal distance, at least you assumed, but the next thing you realized, you were centimeters away from her.

She had her hand on your arm and she'd stopped ordering drinks. She was ready to leave or almost ready to leave. You hadn't neglected your duties as the best friend. You had 12 names and numbers in your notes but now you were realizing that you were all alone and if you wanted to do something, you could.

You'd talked about yourself a little, the usual. You were a student, you were a ballerina. However, you left the part out about your apparent gambling addiction! She didn't share much and you didn't think that was odd, the others didn't for a long while. They had to be a lot more guarded than you. You completely understood.

Wanda glanced at her phone when the conversation died down, or when you stopped babbling like the intoxicated fool you were, before looking back at you. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Yeah." You should still be saying no. You should try being honest. You should say: I'm sleeping with three of your team members and I should go home. But god, she really was fucking stunning.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"I do. I have a boyfriend that I love very much...but sometimes, there are things that I want to try. Things that he doesn't want to try."

"Are you...referring to me?" That was a stupid question, you were almost sure. But was she? Was that what you were supposed to be picking up?

She scoffed. "In a sense, yes. I do think you are beautiful and you're nice, and really cute. I want to have sex with you, but it can't be a relationship. My boyfriend is offering me an open arrangement... I'm still with him, very committed, but sometimes...I would like to call you and meet you. Does that sound like something you would be okay with?"

Should you be offended by how many Avengers didn't want to be in a relationship with you at this point? You may end up dwelling on that later, but now, you were thinking about having sex with her. She looked soft and sweet, very unlike Carol, Steve, and Natasha. You weren't saying she was better or worse, it wasn't like you were comparing them to rank them.

You were just acutely aware of the fact that they were so dominant and you were not. Wanda didn't seem to need that so much, she seemed like she would be fine just having sex. Meaningful sex, but not too meaningful. Soft sex, but not boring. In fact, it sounded like she wanted to try something different, and maybe you wanted to also.

So, you said yes. Mostly because it reminded you that Natasha, Steve, and Carol all said they were not able to be in an actual relationship with you. You were getting ahead of yourself, maybe they wouldn't care at all. Maybe it would be a complete non-issue, and you shouldn't miss out on having sex with Wanda if you don't have any proof that they'll react negatively.

She kissed you the first time while you were both still sitting at the bar. After you'd given her your consent, she set her hand to your cheek and pressed her lips to yours. It was all soft lips and tongue, no teeth, no power play. She tasted like alcohol and lip gloss, at least her mouth did. You wanted to know what her pussy tasted like, which you didn't fail to whisper to her when she pulled away.

She immediately took your hand and led you out of the club. It wasn't terribly cold as you waited for the Uber she sent for. She was just a bit taller than you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders as she leaned down again to kiss you. Your hands started at her hips but soon began to roam, her ass, her waist, her back, her shoulders to pull her down closer.

By the time the driver showed, you were both completely flushed and very ready to find a bed. She was taking you to a hotel. You figured that was best, no need to add any more people to the list of individuals who randomly show up at your apartment without calling or texting.

She kept her hand on your thigh the entire drive there but didn't dare move it underneath your dress. Another point of difference between her and her teammates. Any of the others and you would have already finished at least twice.

Getting up to the room was a blur. Thankfully, she did all the talking. You weren't sure how to function under this kind of calm, steady build. It was always fast and immediately, but Wanda was taking her time and making sure everything was how she wanted it.

When you finally got into the room, she didn't bother turning on the light. She curled one arm around you, the other pulling your hair off to the side as she began to kiss your neck. She held you against her as she walked forward. There was a bed that you supposed was big enough, a small bathroom, a sad excuse for a kitchen, a huge window with dirty curtains shining light on the mattress.

None of that really mattered, anyway. She led you closer to the window, stopping only when she wanted to remove your dress. It hit the floor, she peeled the curtain away from the window, and her hands were all over you. "Is this okay? I like the moonlight tonight."

She waited for your confirmation before she ran her hands up and down your sides, a teasing touch before she grabbed your breasts. She was still kissing your neck, gentle and open-mouthed.

You turned your head upward, catching her mouth. She opened her lips for you instantly and you took full advantage of that with a slow but sloppy kiss. Her fingers trailed down from the middle of your chest, straight down your stomach, and all the way to your pussy.

She hummed when she felt you were wet. The brushes against your clit were faint but somehow it was enough, it didn't take long at all for you to unhurriedly fall apart. Your legs were shaking and your mind was even more blurry than before.

You turned to her to slip her out of her dress. You kissed across her collarbone, then over her chest, glancing up as you closed your lips around one of her nipples. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head fell back, and she opened her beautiful mouth to moan.

Your hands on her hips, you directed her to the bed. She sat down first, grabbing your arms to pull you down with her. Your naked skin was flush against hers and all you did for the longest time was kiss. Hands buried in each other's hair, quiet moans and gasps filling the room, all the while just building up to this intense scene.

When you sat up, she remained on her back. She pushed your hair over your shoulders so she could see your chest and your face. She was right about the moonlight, it washed over her so well.

You kissed her chin, off to the side of her jaw, then down her shoulder and arm until you reached her hand. You took it in yours, the same with the other as you lowered onto your knees on the floor, intertwining your fingers. There was no prelude, you simply took her with your mouth.

She cried out your name, arching her back and squeezing your hands. She tasted sweet, smelled musky and a little like vanilla. You kissed down the length of her soaking cunt, sliding your tongue into her entrance.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped. "Do that again."

You obliged, releasing one of her hands so you could rub her clit with your fingers. She took her newly freed hand and grabbed your hair. She pulled you down harder, rolling her hips up slowly, trying to get your tongue in deeper.

Not even a minute later, she was making you aware of her approaching orgasm, "I'm close, suck my clit--please, fuck! Suck my clit."

You ran your tongue through her as you brought your hand down, you closed your lips around her and began to suck hard. You pressed two fingers inside her and pumped them in and out, moaning when you felt her clenching around them.

She was shaky and smiling as you lazily licked her through her finish. She pulled you up as soon as her brain was working enough to tell her arms to pull you up. "And how do I taste?"

"Amazing."

She smirked.

You had to figure her boyfriend wasn't much for going down on her since she was looking at you like you were the reason the sun would rise tomorrow morning.

You laid on top of her but she quickly rolled over, legs slotting so you could grind against one another's thigh. Her slick center against your skin was almost enough to make you finish. Again, her mouth was on yours and nothing was hurried. You canted your hips, catching your clit on her soft leg, and she did the same.

Soon, your hips started to gain speed, you were close and could tell she was, too. The sounds of wet pussy slapping against thigh nearly drowned out the desperate screams and whines you both made.

You completely soaked her thigh with your orgasm. As she continued pursuing hers, she reached down, hand gliding between you and her wet skin. She brought her fingers up to her mouth, humming and sucking on them. "I can't wait to have you sit on my face." Then she closed her eyes, her hips stuttered, and your leg felt much hotter.

She didn't waste any time at all, she rolled back over and hauled you on top of her. Your hips jerked when you pressed against her, still sensitive from the last finish. She didn't seem to mind, she just placed both hands on your hips and moved you relentlessly against her.

"Hands behind your back, lean onto the mattress," she instructed.

You quickly did so, relieved to have some type of balance.

She loved watching your breasts bounce this way, loved watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. And she especially loved when you sat up again to grab her hands, an attempt to pull away from the overstimulation. She didn't allow it, she kept her grip tight and pulled you in faster as she rolled her hips up.

[oboevallis]

Hey! Wondering if u could write something related to this season with Amelink, the baby, Maggie, the kids, idk or maybe link goes to work and all the kids give Amelia hell and drive her crazy and the baby cries a lot

week 1

thank you so much for the prompt! im considering maybe doing a mini series on this, because im really living for domestic amelin, and i also didn’t do everything in the prompt also part 2 to baby blues will be out soon

"Auntie Amelia when is mommy going to be home?" Bailey asked as his aunt tucked him in.

"We talked about this the other day remember? Your mom has to help people at the hospital, but she can't come home because she may get us sick. So she's going to stay at a hotel. I promise first thing tomorrow you can FaceTime her."

"Okay, but why can't she come home to see us. I won't get sick."

"There's something called a pandemic going on right now, and basically that's a sickness that spreads really really quickly. And since your moms at the hospital all the time working with people who have the sickness it isn't safe for her to see us." Amelia wanted to cry when she saw the tears welling up in her nephews eyes.

"You don't do anything right though. You don't tuck me in right, and you don't make sandwiches right, and you don't play cars right either. Actually you don't play with me at all like you used to." Bailey ranted before he took his covers and pulled them over his head. Amelia tried to reach out to him only for him to turn away from her. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle this, it had barely been a week since lockdown begun.

"Good night Bailey, I love you." Amelia reassured as she closed the door behind her. She walked down the attic stairs to find Link putting the covers over Ellis while she laid on Merediths bed, for the past couple of nights she's refused to sleep unless it was in her mothers bed. She was pulled out of her moment of serenity from her baby's cries, she sighed and made her way to Maggie's room. They put his crib in there for the time being as it was the closest to their room.

"What's the matter my sweet boy?" Amelia picked up the crying baby from his crib. She sat down on Maggie's bed and cradled her son, resulting in her sons cries to subside. "Someone just wanted their mommy huh?"

"Auntie Amelia?" Zola's voice startled her aunt causing her to gasp. "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay ZoZo, everything okay?" The girl just nodded and crawled into the bed next to her aunt.

"Is Scout okay?"

"Yeah, he's just fine. I think he just wanted some attention."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" The question took Amelia aback, she expected it from her younger niece and nephew but not from Zola. She sometimes forgot she was still a kid and not a teenager. She'd always acted mature for her age.

"Sure ZoZo. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just miss my mom. When I'm scared I always sleep with her."

"Why are you scared ZoZo?" Amelia knew it was a dumb question, she was scared herself. But it broke her heart her niece was as well.

"This sickness must be really bad if we can't go to school, or see friends, or see auntie Maggie and mommy."

"We're taking precautions, we wear out masks if we were to go out, we're quarantining. At the hospital your mom and aunt Maggie wear something called PPE, and they social distance and they constantly are washing their hands."

"So they won't get it?" Zola worriedly asked. Amelia didn't want to lie but she also didn't want her niece to be constantly worried.

"They're taking precautions ZoZo."

"Will you and Link be going to the hospital?"

"Well, not right now we're on something called maternity leave. That's when you have time off of work after you have a baby. So we'll be home for awhile and then we'll see what we should do. Don't be worried about this though, ZoZo. How about you go change into your pjs and brush your teeth, then you can go into my room and get to sleep that sound good?"

"That sounds good." Zola softly smiled as she jumped off the bed. Amelia sighed once her niece left the room, and turned her attrition to her baby.

"You are very adorable, but you need to sleep. You don't seem to like sleep very much though." She whispered as she placed the drowsy baby into his crib.

______________________________________

"Auntie Amelia your phones ringing." Zola yelled from the living room the next morning.

"Who is it?" Amelia asked, she was in the side room trying to help Bailey log onto a zoom meeting.

"Someone named Addison."

"Can you try to help Bailey log on? And bring my phone in here please." Zola skipped into the room and handed her aunt her phone, and took her seat at the computer. Amelia ran up the stairs and shut the bathroom door behind her, before Ellis realized she was up here. She sat in the bathtub and swiped the call on.

"Oh wow you look terrible." Addison commented, as her screen popped up with the face of her exhausted friend.

"Why thank you."

"Sorry, how are you holding up?"

"I'm alright, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, I just have never lost this many patients before."

"I can't even imagine, I hear it's really bad."

"Yeah it really is. So have you decided if your going back to work after your maternity leave?"

"I have no idea, I mean they desperately need doctors. But what happens to Scout and the kids. We can't leave them with a babysitter, because of quarantine. I don't know, I'm just kind of taking it a day at a time."

"That's okay, that's all we can really do. Take it a day at a time. How's the baby doing?"

"Oh he's really good." Amelia lit up at the mention of her baby. "I'm basically with him all the time, so Link is stuck with the other kids so I can't really complain."

"Link must be having the time of his life." Addison sarcastically laughed.

"Yea, he's never really dealt with kids before. At least not to this extent, the most he'd interact with a child before is if he had to do surgery on one." Knocking on the bathroom door took her out of her moment of serenity talk to her friend.

"Auntie Amelia, we still can't get Bailey into his zoom." Zola's voice came from the outside of the door.

"Crap, I've got to go Addie. Stay safe."

"You too." Amelia set her phone down on the edge of the tub, and hoisted herself up.

"You still can't get in?" Amelia asked once she opened the door.

"Nope, I tried everything."

"Alright I'll try and take a look at it." Amelia sighed, and went down the stairs to the room they've now dedicated to school. "Still can't get it?"

"No, so does that mean I don't have to do it?" Bailey hopefully asked.

"No your still going to have to do it. You know what I'll email your teacher, and tell her what's going on."

"Alright, I'm gonna go play." Bailey said quickly while running my out of the room.

"No, Bailey get back here." She called after her nephew, only for him to ignore her. She sighed and held her head in her hands. "Okay, ZoZo did you finish your school work yet?"

"Yep!"

"Okay, go play with Bailey then." She opened up Meredith's email, so she could contact Baileys teacher about the issue with the video call. Once she composed the email and sent it, she scrolled through the other emails. She noticed one from Zola's teacher and opened.  Zola had 8 missing assignments, Amelia felt like crying and screaming. She already knew they were going to be up all night trying to catch her up, she wanted to be mad but she couldn't. This was nothing like her niece, she was obviously struggling with the quarantine.

"Hey the kids are done with school already?" Link asked as he came into the room.

"No, Bailey can't log on. And Zola's been lying to my face about completing her homework. I also have no idea what Ellis is supposed to be doing." Amelia choked out before she started crying.

"Oh, don't cry." Link walked further into the room and spun Amelia around in the spiny chair before wrapping his arms around her. “It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out. How about we sit everyone down, and come up with a game plan. We haven't sat down and organized how this is going to be."

"Okay." Amelia smiled slightly wiping away her tears. She spun around in the chair to face back towards the computer. She was going to write down all the children's assignments and figure the times that the teachers held their video calls.

______________________________________

"Okay do your Aunt Amelia and I wanted to talk to you guys." Link said as he placed down the kids plates in front of them.

"About what?" Zola asked curiously.

"Well we know that right now, everything's all messed up and kind of scary. But we still have to have a routine and make sure our school works getting done." Amelia said as she adjusted her shirt so her son could eat.

"So what does that mean." Zola asked before she messily slurped up her spaghetti.

"Well for starters we're gonna go to bed on time, and we'll wake up around 7 so we can get ready for the day before we start school." Link stated once he sat down at the kitchen table with everyone.

"So Bailey and Ellis you have two zoom calls everyday. At 8 and at 10, so Bailey you'll be in the side room and Ellis we'll set you up in the living room. Zola you have four calls so you'll be in the kitchen-"Zola interrupted before Amelia could finish her statement.

"Wait why do I have more calls then them, thats not really fair."

"Since your older you have more classes than they do. Back to what I was saying, we'll all have lunch together and then we can play for a little bit but then back to school. After everyone's done you can play or watch a movie then we'll have dinner and go to sleep. How does that sound?" Amelia asked, the couple realistically knew that this plan would probably never happen but they wanted to try to let the kids have a predictable routine everyday.

"Sounds fair." Bailey said and the two girls nodded in agreement. "Soooooo, can we watch a movie tonight?"

"Not tonight bud." Link said, causing sighs from all three children. After everyone was done with dinner Zola helped Link clear the table while Amelia put the baby to bed. "So you've got some missing assignments."

"Oh." Zola felt embarrassed. "I didn't know you knew about that."

"I do. Tonight me and your Aunt Amelia are going to help you with it, so you don't get further behind. Is that alright?"

"I guess so." Zola sighed. "It's just confusing, I like it better when it's on paper not the computer."

"Okay, so we'll sit down and figure it out. It's going to be okay."

"Thanks Link." Zola smiled kindly. "Sorry I lied, to Auntie Amelia about completing my work."

"Just don't do it again, next time just ask for help. Nothing gets better if you don't ask fo help." Link smiled.

[delirious-and-slightly-murderous]

Oh friend you've so many exciting WIPs but please tell me about The Color of Corn and The Nightmare Before Christmas!! 💕✨

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Wow okay so, first The Nightmare before Christmas. This one is kinda a 2x1. As it happens with some of my WIPs when I have 2 stories from the same idea I just put them in the same file. And whichever picks my interest most wins and gets written. (If I do write it that is😅). So first is a pretty standar TNBC AU because well, Jack Skellington Andrés, that's why. Here's the snippet:

The wind howled as it collided with the cold stone of the tower.

Martín shivered despite not being cold. He felt queasy and anxious, he hoped he had calculated the dose of deadly nightshade right, he didn't want a repeat of last time.

He took his bag and balanced himself on the edge of the window, looking down at the darkness below. He wouldn't die, he couldn't but the doctor had been nice enough to make him capable of feeling pain. And it hurt, it hurt like nothing else did. 

He clutched his basket tighter and took a deep breath, thinking of a crooked smile and the moon reflecting on pearly white teeth. He needed to go out, to be free for at least a while. And seeing Andrés was worth the couple minutes of debilitating pain.

He closed his eyes and let go.

The impact with the ground was hard and painful. His mind whited out, scrambling his thoughts. All he was capable of was an incoherent tidal wave of 'hurts, hurts, HURTS, holly Satan's undies, it hurtsssss!'

Slowly, after an eternity of fire that stretched into the space of a minute, he became increasingly aware of himself. Everything burned and he felt all over the place. He opened his eyes to confirm and yes it was going to take a while. 

Thankfully one of his arms has stayed attached, which would make it all easier. He put his other arm back in place, and started the long and tedious process of retightening his seams and putting everything back in place.

By the time he was done, the pain had subsided into a dull all encompassing ache that he could push to the back of his consciousness. He checked his limbs one last time and started walking towards the town center. His body heavy and aching but his heart light and fit to burst.

He didn't notice his nose and left nipple lying half visible at the bottom of the tower.

(So yes that's part of it, it's a work in very slow progress🥴)

And then the other idea is basically a cracky Christmas fic. 

So the premise is that it's post mint (and maybe post bank too, idk), and the banda plus Martín are all living in the monastery or something. It's the day before Christmas and Martín's longing for Andrés gets so bad while watching him ignoring Martín and flirting with the women that he wishes he could have a life without Andrés and those pesky feelings of his and proceeds to get black out drunk. 

So next morning he wakes up and at first everything is normal and then bam! Andrés is nowhere to be seen, he is apparently married to SERGIO and they have KIDS! While all the rest is pretty much the same, he's still a criminal mastermind. 

So he's trying to figure out what the hell's going on and how to wake up from this nightmare when Christmas day comes around. And his husband's estranged brother shows up. His raging libertine and homosexual diva of a brother shows up. A brother Martín apparently HATES with all his heart. 

Oh and said brother, Andrés by the way if you had any doubts, not only shows up in the most mind boggling and gayest outfit, he doesn't come alone. He's accompanied by his two (2) boyfriends! A tall, tall and stoic man who goes by Marsella and a twink named Aníbal (who by the way one of his and Sergio's 'kids' can't stop flirting with). 

This is Martín's worst nightmare. He wants to wake up right now. Or possibly die, he's not picky.

Here's the snippet:

Martín was going crazy. That was the only possible explanation. He had finally drank too much wine and he was currently lying in some hospital bed in an ethylic coma. No other way around it.

Waking after getting so drunk to find himself in bed with Sergio was not at all what Martín had expected. And while he started silently panicking and trying to remember at which point of last night's drunken debauchery he had decided to pay Sergio a visit, the other man had woken up and smiled at him. 

Martín's brain had short circuited when Sergio, SERGIO, Andrés' nerdy librarian of a brother had kissed him. He had kissed him and pushed his very impressive morning wood (and who the fuck knew Sergio was so well endowed, Martín would be horny if it wasn't you know, Sergio) against him while simultaneously slipping a hand into the back of his pants and between his ass cheeks. 

Martín had become so impossibly rigid it felt like he would snap like a guitar string. When he was once again capable of movement, he had Sergio's tongue halfway down his throat and an insistent pointer finger pushing against his clamped up asshole. 

He had scrambled out of bed so hastily that he had almost cracked his skull open on the bedposts. Not saying anything before running to the bathroom like a soul out of hell. 

Hours later after the weirdest breakfast of his life where he finds out he and Sergio are apparently married and Andrés is nowhere in the picture, here he is. He went to sleep in the hopes of just actually waking up.

But apparently the universe is laughing at his misery. 

Because an undeterminded amount of time later, something wakes him and he immediately knows he's still trapped in this nightmare. He stays relaxed and doesn't open his eyes, hoping whatever it was that woke him will just go away.

"¡Papi!" 

Martín's breath dies inside his chest. Now there are a number of things wrong with what he just heard. First 'Papi' is not a word he often hears. If he does hear it, it normally comes from his own mouth in a much breathier tone while in the middle of much more interesting activities. And secondly if for whatever reason he somehow changed his preferences and it's his current partner calling him that, well it sure as hell wouldn't be in a female voice. 

His hysteric internal monologue is interrupted by another, this time distinctly male voice.

"Papi, wake up." 

That's when he notices that he knows those voices, they are familiar. He wonders what he did to deserve ending up in a hell like this. He would greatly prefer the stereotypical flames and eternal torture over this any day. He feels sick and holds back his nausea.

Finally he opens his eyes to come face to face with Tokio and Denver looking down at him.

"Hola papi, what a grumpy face, sorry for waking you. Papá said not to do it, but aren't you going to say hi to your kids?"

This time Martín doesn't hold back anything.

As he is expelling what feels like his whole stomach, he's distantly glad that he managed to be spectacularly sick all over Tokio's ugly shirt. 

(I've really got no excuse for this😅)

And finally the Color of Corn is a thingy I talked about here.

But you can have another snippet, this one goes immediately after the other one:

The sun is burning and ruthless. The air is wet and heavy, oppressing. The dense sheen of sweat covering his skin doesn't help with the stifling atmosphere, making him feel sticky and disgusting. Finally when his uncle decides to make a pause and rest, they've worked about half of the field. Martín feels ready to throw himself into a lake of freezing water, letting it consume him, dragging him down to the bottom like a dead carcass. He lost his shirt a while ago. He couldn't take the uncomfortable feeling of cloth rubbing against drenched skin anymore. He goes to sit at the back of the tractor, wincing at the touch of the scorching metal. Relaxing slightly as he eats soggy jam sandwiches and warm beer.

"You know you can go right?" His uncle asks, sitting beside him and looking at the horizon with dead and glassy eyes. "There is nothing stopping you from taking your things and fucking off. You aren't a kid anymore."

Martín stares at him thoughtfully, then he directs his glance to the faraway line where the sky meets the earth. There is nothing to see, just miles and miles of golden corn as far as the eyes can reach. Truth is Martín doesn't know how to answer. Logically he knows this, he is aware of it and has thought of leaving more than once. He's thought exactly that, taking his things and leaving. But he also knows he is never going to do it. He is utterly incapable of it. He doesn't know what he would do. His whole life all he's known is his little town in the middle of nowhere Argentina, and the golden shine of corn. And, even if he doesn't like to admit it, if he ever left he would be completely lost. As far as he can remember corn has always been present. His constant omnipresent companion. Want it or not, it's his life and always will be.

"Yes I know,'' comes his absentminded answer.

His uncle stares at him for a minute. His tired eyes seemingly looking for something.

"What happened to that friend of yours, Andrés was it?"

"What with him?" He says sharply, his tongue cutting, mimicking the exact feeling that name evoques.

"You two used to be attached at the hip and now it's been a while since I last saw him."

Martín has been trying to forget all about that. If he's being honest, he's not doing a great job of it. But Martín has never been terribly honest, not even with himself, and he's not going to start now, so he enjoys telling himself he is forgetting.

"That's because he's going back to Spain. Haven't seen him since he told me."

"Well, he's been calling you, did you know?" His uncle scratches at his beard. "You should call him back."

"I don't want to talk about this." That's not a lie, Martín really does not want to talk about Andrés, especially not with his uncle.

"You are aware both phones are connected right?"

Martín becomes rigid. "He's getting married."

"I can respect limits, but don't fool yourself like that." The older man shrugs and gets up to keep working.

Martín feels angry. His uncle doesn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand. Life is easy for a man like him. He wants to tell him to go to hell.

When finally his anger dies down, choked and overwhelmed by the infernal heat, Martín almost laughs at the recognition of his anger towards his uncle for what it truly is. The anger and spite of an immature kid when confronted with the ugly truth.

Martín knows that he's lying to himself. He just doesn't know about what.

When night falls, they go back to the farmhouse. His uncle goes straight to bed but Martín cannot fall asleep. He's bored of himself and his own mind. He goes out and lies down in one of the cornfields, feeling gravity press down on his chest. He falls asleep imagining the sea of corn rocking him gently.

Everything is dark, there isn't a single noise, not even from insects. The corn is still, not moving one bit, consumed by the darkness.

(I'm really proud of this one😊.)

So that's it. Wow this got long. Hope you liked it and thank you for asking friend.

🥰

(P.S: Did my ask reach you? I'm severely traumatised now😑)

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 6

Alright, we’re swapping out the drama for some fluff this part. Alsooo idk if y’all are gonna hate or love me after the end of this one, BUT LET’S FIND OUT. 

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 6/26

Pairing: Adam Page x OFC and Kenny Omega x OFC

Warnings: Alcohol use, language

Word Count: 2.1k

Catch up on previous parts here.

Callie marched to the bar, her empty glass in hand. She needed another drink, stat.

She’d had it with Kenny’s bullshit. They’d never been the best of friends; even before everything with Alex had blown up, she’d always felt like he only tolerated her because she was with Adam. But now? Now it seemed like he wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain, and that didn’t sit well with her. Not with her match against Alex in less than a week.

A loud, obnoxious burst of laughter sounded from across the room, drawing Callie from her thoughts. She looked toward the lounge area; Alex and Kris were playing a game of pool against Cash and Dax, and Kris was laughing as Alex tried to distract Cash from making his shot by leaning suggestively over the table. Callie rolled her eyes. Next Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough.

“Hey, baby.”

Adam came up behind her and placed a hand on the small of her back. She smiled up at him, his touch instantly soothing her. At least they weren’t fighting tonight. “Hey, cowboy.”

“I saw you talking with Kenny,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

Her smile faded. Maybe she’d thought too soon. “Yeah, we were just talking about the match,” she said, trying to brush it off. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “What’s up with you?”

He pulled her closer and nodded toward the terrace. “Come outside with me. I think we could use some alone time.”

She smirked up at him. “Okay. Let me just get another drink.”

The bartender fixed Callie another cocktail and Adam took her hand and led her outside onto the terrace. They moved to a spot that gave them some privacy away from the party. Callie gave him a curious look as they sat down. “What brought this on?”

“I just thought we could talk,” he said. “We haven’t been doing much of that lately.”

Callie frowned when he said that. “Yeah; you’re right,” she regretfully admitted. “Is there something on your mind?”

Adam’s eyebrows arched. “A lot, actually,” he answered with a rueful grin. “But I just think we need to clear the air. Things have been tense between us lately, and I don’t like fighting with you, Cal. I want us to be good again.”

He paused and looked down into his nearly empty glass of whiskey. Callie reached over and took his hand again, interlacing their fingers together. Telling him without words that he could tell her anything. So he did.

“I know this whole situation with Alex has been getting to you, and I know you’re worried that Kenny and I won’t be entirely in your corner next week. And honestly, I can’t speak for Kenny. But I want you to know that I have your back one hundred percent. Okay?”

He looked back at her with those blue eyes of his, and there was no possible way that Callie couldn’t believe him. She felt terrible for ever doubting him in the first place. “I know you will,” she assured. “But if we’re being honest… I honestly don’t think I want Kenny at ringside next week.”

Adam cocked his head at her. “Why not?”

She let out a sigh. “Britt told me that he and Alex used to be… involved. And after everything that’s gone on, I just don’t think I trust him not to interfere.”

Suddenly, Adam tensed. He shifted in his seat. Callie sent him a questioning look. “What?”

He sighed. “Well. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s kind of the reason I wanted to talk.”

Her face fell. But he went on before she could ask.

“In the interest of being honest, a long time ago… Alex and I got drunk and made out.”

Callie’s grip on his hand loosened. “What?”

He couldn’t defend himself fast enough. “That’s all that happened, and it meant absolutely nothing, Callie, I promise. But I felt like I needed to get it out in the open in order for us to move forward.”

For a long, tense moment, Callie didn’t say anything. She was equal parts shocked, angry, and jealous. All this time he’d sworn up and down that he and Alex were absolutely nothing but friends, and the entire time he’d been harboring this secret? She looked back at him, ready to give him a piece of her mind; but when she saw the look on his face, she stopped short. She could tell from the remorse in his eyes that he’d meant every word. “Well, I wish you hadn’t waited to tell me until now… while drunk Alex is inside trying her hardest to sleep with Cash…” she muttered. “But I’m glad you told me. Really.”

“Of course,” he said. “But trust me—that’s not Alex trying her hardest.”

He was smirking. But Callie wasn’t amused. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about what she did with you? Because it doesn’t.”

He let out a laugh. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the best thing to say.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no shit,” she muttered; but Adam squeezed her hand tighter.

“I don’t want there to be secrets between us, Callie,” he said. “I love you—only you.”

She looked back into his eyes, and once again, Callie felt all her anger and jealousy disappear. Without saying a word, she moved closer and tucked herself underneath his arm. And as hugged her against him, she felt more secure in their relationship than she had in a long time.

* * * * * * * * * *

As the night wore on the party dwindled down and people started to filter out. Trent, James, and Kris had already taken an Uber back to the hotel, but Alex and Chuck had stayed behind; Alex because Mariposa didn’t want the party to end, and Chuck because he was worried what Mariposa might make Alex do. Needless to say, he was relieved when she said goodbye to Cash with little more than a lingering hug.

“Alright, I think it’s time to get you to bed,” Chuck said. Alex grinned up at him.

“How forward of you, Chuckie.”

He rolled his eyes; but she didn’t miss the nervous way the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” she relented. “And you’re right. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Alright,” he said. “Wait here; I gotta step outside to get the Uber. I don’t get any signal in here.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and jogged out to the terrace. Alex watched him go around the corner of the building before she turned and started toward the bar, intending to get some water; but she stopped short. Kenny was sitting alone in the corner, scrolling through his phone. She thought he’d left hours ago.

She fidgeted, wondering if she should say something. But before she could decide, he looked up and spotted her. “Alex. Hey.”

“Hey,” she echoed. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

He shrugged as he put down his phone. “I wanted to stay and make sure no one did anything stupid.”

An awkward laugh escaped her. “Probably a good idea,” she said.

There was a pregnant pause, neither of them sure what to say next. But then Kenny beckoned her over. “Come sit.”

Alex nervously bit her lip; but she quieted her uncertainty and walked over. She caught the scent of his cologne as she sat down next to him. It smelled just as good as she remembered.

“So,” he started. “I’m glad you and Callie didn’t try to kill each other tonight.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m done worrying about her bullshit,” she returned. “We have the match next week. That’s all I care about.”

Kenny’s knee brushed against hers as he sat back. Neither of them moved. “Speaking of the match, Callie seems to think I’m going to interfere on your behalf.”

Her brow furrowed as she shot him a look. “What? When did she tell you that?”

“Tonight. But I honestly don’t care. She can believe what she wants.”

Alex looked down at their touching knees. Had she been sober, she probably wouldn’t have asked her next question. But she wasn’t sober—and she wanted to know. “Would you do that?”

Kenny looked over at her. “If things get out of hand… yeah. I would.”

She bit her lip again. Part of her was flattered; but a bigger part of her was annoyed. “I appreciate the concern, Kenny. But I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then why do you constantly insist on doing it?”

“Because I care about you, Alex.”

His eyes met hers, and Alex’s breath caught in her throat. She’d forgotten how blue they were—but she hadn’t forgotten the way it made her feel when he looked at her like that. She’d been burying that feeling for a year. But right now, it was impossible to ignore.

He leaned closer. “I care about what happens to you. I care about if you’re happy, or if you’re hurt, or if you’re frustrated. And yeah, I’d care if you were sleeping with someone else. I wanted to kill Cash tonight.”

Alex tilted her face toward his. Maybe her body was only reacting the way it was because of the alcohol, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel him. “What else do you want to do?”

He glanced at her lips. “I really want to kiss you.”

She inched closer. “Then do it.”

The air was so charged that it felt like they’d get shocked if they touched. But just when Alex thought Kenny would close the space between them, he turned away. “Not like this.”

She pulled back. “Why not?”

“Because.” He reached up and pushed her hair out of her face; she leaned into his touch. “You’re drunk, baby. If you still feel this way tomorrow—and I sincerely hope you do—then we’ll talk.”

She pouted. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it was probably for the best. “Fine.”

He smiled softly at her. “How about I give you a ride back to the hotel?”

Alex sobered up a bit then. Chuck—she’d forgotten all about him and the Uber. She looked around, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he was still outside.

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked.

“Nothing,” she returned. “Let me just go tell Chuck and we can go.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

Alex stood and moved toward the terrace, nerves tightening her stomach. It was terrible; she already felt guilty for ditching Chuck for Kenny. But she wanted to go with him. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t.

She pulled the door open and stepped outside just as Chuck rounded the corner of the building. He let out an apologetic huff when he saw her. “Sorry. Fucking James called just as I was trying to get the Uber to ask if we could get him McDonald’s on the way back, and then Trent got on the line wanting to know if you’d left with Cash and he gave me a bunch of shit and yeah. It’s not important. The car’s almost here so we should get our stuff.”

He started to head back inside, but Alex cut him off. She took a deep breath—and then she blurted it out. “Actually, I’m getting a ride with Kenny. Please don’t judge or hate me.”

 Chuck paused, surprised. But if he was upset, she couldn’t tell. His expression didn’t give anything away. “I would never judge or hate you, Alex,” he said. “But are you sure? Did you make this decision or did Mariposa?”

She rolled her eyes. “I did,” she returned. “And yes. I’m sure.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he looked back inside. “Okay,” he breathed. “Just use protection, alright?”

Alex’s cheeks unexpectedly flushed. “Oh my God, I’m not gonna sleep with him; he’s just giving me a ride,” she said. But Chuck didn’t say anything in return; he looked like he was somewhere else. Her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

He snapped back to attention and shook his head. “No. Go ahead—I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

A frown pulled at Alex’s lips. But she nodded. “Okay,” she said. She offered a parting smile and turned to head back inside. And as Chuck watched her disappear through the door, he wished he would have asked her not to go.

[drivingsideways]

The Rebel Princess review/ spoilers upto ep 12

Under the cut

At the end of 12 episodes I have to say I’m..underwhelmed. I mean, I knew going into a 68 episode drama that it was going to be really slow for most parts, but it’s still hard going even with low expectations.

I think the first thing that threw me was Zhang Ziyi playing a 15 year old. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t think it’s her looks per se that make it unbelievable-she’s incredibly youthful and beautiful, of course. And I’m well aware of the sexist double standards re: casting, and I’ve generally always hated it when older actors are cast in roles of teenagers or people about two decades younger than they are! It’s just that I don’t think she’s suited to the cutesy/naive A’wu that we meet in the initial episodes. You can see the effort she’s putting into it and that makes it all the more apparent that she isn’t that character. I just didn’t buy into the performance, I think. It’s only in episode 12, in the scene where she learns about her father’s and aunt’s lies re: Xiao Qi that I felt that spark you feel when an actor is totally in sync with their character in a scene. (Her earlier “big scene” after the wedding felt more ho-hum to me, though heaps more engaging than anything that had gone on before then.)  

But Zhang Ziyi’s strained performance is not the only problem I’ve had with this part; it’s that fundamentally I just can’t buy into the idea that A’wu is the person she is when we meet her- seemingly utterly unaware of how the society around her works, or her position in it? She’s reached marriageable age- though not by modern standards of course-  i.e. she’s entered into adulthood, and is presumably not unintelligent or entirely blind, but she seems downright surprised by the fact that she should be expected to marry for reasons other than love, or that other people around her, in her family even, have done so. I can buy that she thought she would be the exception to the rule, because she has been pampered all her life, but she seems actually astonished that the rule exists! Or that other people may be ok with not marrying for love, but have other considerations (See early conversation with Xie Wanru regarding Xiao Qi).  It speaks to a laziness of characterization/ world building for me. We are meant to accept A’wu’s incredible naivete re: marriage as plausible for a woman of her age and  societal position, in the same breath that we have to accept the multiple rape/ threatened rape storylines as historically accurate/ plausible because women were tightly controlled as a class. Watch me roll my eyes so hard that they’re falling off my face. 

But I’m hoping to god that now that we’ve put the “woman-child” part of the story behind us, things will improve! 

The other thing I feel that keeps me..whelmed..is the general pov choices. The story is ostensibly being told by A’wu- she is literally narrating it to the audience. Yet for extended periods we have to leave her pov to get all the plot machinations in place. There’s also a time skip of approximately 6-8 months after her marriage to when we meet her next; in that time, she seems to have made peace with the fact that the great love of her life whom she sacrificed her life for turned out to be a wuss, and also somehow magically “grown up”. The naive A’wu we saw has disappeared and instead we have grown up A’wu who’s quite capable of manipulation and running a household (and from spoilers I’ve seen, become adept at military strategy etc). I mean, it’s GREAT, for the character, but the transition feels sudden, presented like a fait accompli. I wish we’d gotten to see those 6-8 months in Huizhou is what I’m saying, or even earlier hints of her talents and interests. But we were stuck in “I’m a young, pampered princess in love, I have no thoughts beyond getting married” mode for like ten episodes. If they’d laid a little more ground then, and also given us some more of those 6-8 months, I would have enjoyed it. But then, I suppose that requires an entire different kind of story telling focus. This show, despite being titled “The Rebel Princess” doesn’t seem to really be about *her *. That’s probably an expectation mismatch between me and the show (I haven’t read the novel or any of the press/ previews etc), so I’m having to swallow my disappointment a bit! 

As usual, and this is specifically a me thing, I admit, I’m more interested in the “supporting” characters than in the leads. And again, specifically me-thing, I love the awful ones the MOSTEST. 

I LOVE Wang Lin. I love the actor, I love the scheming, and I honestly think he’s literally the only character that makes any kind of sense in this story so far. Am I supposed to be horrified that he’s willing to barter his daughter for retaining the family’s power? On the contrary, I think A’wu needed a solid dose of reality and maybe a little time living her maid’s life so that she could understand just how right her dad is. *shrug hands emoji * . I’m  50 x more interested in Wang Lin and Jin Ruo’s Terrible and Complicated Marriage than in Xiao Qi and A’wu making doe-eyes at each other, sorry, not sorry. 

I also love Xie Wanru; I know she’s probably going to come to a terrible end, after getting her shot at being Supporting Villainess until the Real Main (Male) Villain can fully take over etc. Still, she has done nothing wrong in her life and I fully support her in her quest for revenge. 

Su Jin Er’s story in Ep 11/12 was incredibly poignant and heartbreaking for me; even though I objectively understand that what she did to Zidan was rape. I know she’s also being set up as plot point for Xie Wanru’s villainy to bloom, and idk, will probably die in the next few episodes. Alas. I shall have to write the fic where Su Jin Er survives her punishment and goes on to live happily ever after with a beautiful boy of her choice and lots of money from idk black market trading of grain or something, I accept this and I will do it. 

Surprise entrant for GIRL I AM ROOTING WITH ALL MY HEART FOR is A’wu’s sister in law, who’s fucking the second prince and refusing to produce a Wang clan heir right under the nose of that Incredibly Smart Villain  Daddy Wang Lin;  honestly that reveal was the best second best thing the show has done so far.

The best thing the show has done so far was when a giant bat swooped down and kidnapped A’wu from the marketplace in ep 11...I was HOLLERING. 

Anyways, I am going to keep watching mostly for my queen Zhang Ziyi, spoilers I’ve seen in the tag indicate that the next set of episodes will be actually good? *cross fingers *

[blissedoutphil]

Dan the Personal Assistant Part 12

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

Back within 2 months as promised! :P but wow Dan is finally more active than me now

4570 words of angst? idk

~Part 11~

or read on ao3!

Frank shook his head as he glanced at his watch again. Phil missed the meeting entirely and didn’t even bother filling him in on what he should do to cover for his absence. He took a sip of his coffee and focused back on his presentation slides for the next meeting, which should be Phil’s job but since he wasn’t around, of course it was thrown to the director.

The bell on the coffee shop door rang as a man rushed in, and Frank looked up to see the CEO hurrying to his table. Phil tried to tame his messy hair as he sat across Frank.

“Sorry.”

“It’s too late for that,” Frank huffed, typing away on his laptop.

“I didn’t mean to miss it, I really owe you one,” Phil adjusted his glasses resting crooked on his nose.

“By letting me fuck that boy of yours again?” Frank deadpanned.

“If that’s what you want.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Phil, but I think what I want is him gone,” Frank had been meaning to tell Phil this for a while now.

Phil had seen that coming, but still he felt a pang of sadness.

“I thought you liked him. You agreed to the idea.”

“Yeah but that was before he was suddenly more important than this company, for fuck’s sake.”

“He isn’t,” Phil tried, but knew he wasn’t convincing anyone.

Frank sighed. “I don’t want you to have to step down, you’ve been here from the start. You built this company up to where it is now, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch it all get ruined because of an. An office whore? Do you even like him at all?”

“I-” Phil slumped back in his seat dejectedly, “I thought I did.”

“Why are you letting him control things, Phil? I thought in this kind of arrangements the Dom’s the one in control or whatever.”

Phil looked at Frank, unamused. He didn’t mean for things to have gone this far, and he didn’t know how to put at end to it. Somehow Zack has got Phil wrapped around his finger.

“Can you help me tell him?” Phil asked, hopeful.

“I thought you owe me a favour, not the other way around,” Frank retorted with an annoyed glare.

“I’ll give you a raise. Or more off days. I don’t know, anything!” Phil was getting desperate.

He knew he should end things with Zack, but he was the one who dragged the kid into this situation. To fire him and stop seeing him would be cruel, even if Zack was a terrible assistant and boyfriend. He was too much of a wimp to be the one to break it to the boy.

“Fine,” Frank sighed, unable to bear the sight of Phil in such despair any longer, “I’ll do it. For the sake of my friend.”

Phil smiled at him genuinely, vowing not to get into such a mess like this ever again.

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

About two years later, Frank found himself in a similar situation despite Phil’s promise. The timid boy staring back at him was worlds apart from Zack, though. He looked like he was terrified that Frank was about to bite him.

He moved past the boy and invited himself into Phil’s room even though the boy told him that Phil was in the shower. Phil had replied his text saying they could meet once he reached the hotel, so technically he could be here.

He eyed the kid, who was standing awkwardly, kind of hunched in on himself. Frank was honestly surprised when he’d seen his boss and this kid in the cafe. Phil never brought Zack along on his overseas trips before. This kid must mean more to him than Zack did.

“Enjoying yourself here?” Frank asked, feeling the awkward energy radiating off of the boy making him start to feel awkward too.

Dan was bewildered that Frank was in their room. He knew that Phil wouldn’t be happy about this, and he dreaded to see Phil get into an even more foul mood. But at the same time, he can’t wait for Phil to get out of the shower and save him from this awkward situation.

“Uhh, yeah so far,” he answered after a beat.

There was no way that Frank didn’t know what he was to Phil, Dan had concluded. He was afraid that Frank would want Phil to get rid of him, especially once he remembered the conversations he’d heard between Frank and Phil months ago. What if he really was being a nuisance, a distraction from the obligations Phil had? It wouldn’t be good even if Phil wanted him here.

The boy was anxiously looking back at the shower every few seconds.

“Don’t worry, if Phil gets mad it’ll be at me, not you. How long does he take to shower, anyway? Jeez.”

Frank moved to sit at the couch, and Dan awkwardly sat at the edge of the chair at the little dining table at the far end of the room only after he sat too.

“Fancy room he got for you,” Frank noted, looking around.

“He must really like you,” he added as an afterthought, wanting to gauge Dan’s reaction.

Dan did not expect that comment, and to his mild horror, he’d started blushing. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Frank probably did not mean anything by his comment, but he couldn’t help overthinking it.

Frank did notice the kid looking all bashful. He almost felt bad for the kid. God, Phil better not be leading this poor kid on. He wanted to get straight to the point, but Dan looked like he was going to combust if he spoke another word to him. Zack was never shy around him like this. Even right from their first encounter Zack had always been loud and proud.

“You like being with Phil?” he asked, which he knew was a silly question; the kid wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. But he wanted to hear it from Dan.

Dan wished he’d never opened the door. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Could he even trust this man when all he makes Phil is angry? He looked warily at the man sitting relaxed on the far end of the room. He remembered Phil telling him that the previous assistant would whore out to everyone in the office. Was Frank expecting the same from him?

If all of Phil’s coworkers were attractive like him and Frank, then Dan honestly wasn’t surprised if the old assistant readily played around with everyone. The man was probably about ten years older than Phil, his hair greying at the sides. But he was still fit for his age, body more toned than Dan’s lanky one had ever been. Dan would be lying if he said he wouldn’t want to tap that.

Not that he actually would, it felt wrong to serve anyone other than Phil.

“Yeah. I-I mean, one of the better jobs I’ve had?” he said, unsure what answer Frank expected.

“So...” the man dragged out, and Dan swallowed, nervous. He really had no clue what Frank was here for. He can’t read Frank’s expressions at all, the man’s face was so stoic. Was he here to tell Phil to get rid of him? To tell him to stop working for Phil? To get in on the action? Dan hoped he was overthinking it all and that maybe he was only here to be nothing but a busybody.

“You like Phil?”

Dan gaped, it was the last thing he’d expected Frank to ask.

Frank knew the kid would be surprised, but he had no time to beat around the bush and he needed to know how this kid felt so that he’d know what direction to lead Phil to.

“I- what?” Dan stuttered.

“I mean is this just a weird ass job or is Phil something more to you?”

Frank chuckled a bit at Dan’s startled stare,“I know I probably sound... invasive or whatever but I can help you talk to him, you know.”

Dan still didn’t know whether to trust the guy. His only memory of him was hearing his angry muffled conversations while hiding in the office months ago, and he didn’t seem keen on Phil having an assistant back then. So why is he offering Dan help now?

“I know Phil. He’s probably head over heels for you but he’s also too scared to tell you. Or me, and maybe himself too.”

“H-how’d you know that?” Dan asked, voice so quiet Frank needed him to repeat his question.

“Well, he brought you here. That’s all I needed to know. He never brought Zack anywhere, and he was on a few trips when that kid was around. Probably what made Zack even more bold to defy him and go around playing with the rest of the office, but eh what’s happened, happened.”

Frank remembered the first time Phil went on a trip without Zack. The boy had been so upset that he practically begged to get in Frank’s pants just to spite Phil. Of course Frank wouldn’t do that to his friend, but that didn’t stop Zack from advancing other staff who were more than willing to use their boss’s boy when the boss wasn’t around.

Frank did what he thought was right and told Phil about the encounter, but Phil seemingly did not mind because it was the agreement they originally had, even though Frank could clearly see that Phil wasn’t keen on that agreement anymore after they officially got together.

“Zack?”

Frank focused his gaze back on Dan, snapping out of the memories.

“Don’t tell me he never told you about the one before you,” Frank said incredulously.

“Oh, he did, but not much. I never even knew his name,” Dan relaxed a bit as Frank opened up, but sat up straight again when he felt the plug still in him. Goddamnit, he should’ve taken the toys out earlier.

“Yeah,” Frank continued, “also Phil missed the staff bonding this morning. Now that, he did a lot when he was with Zack.”

Dan started to feel a bit guilty again. His job was to help Phil relax from work, not distract him from it completely. Frank was probably here because he was done with him taking Phil away from his actual work and wanted Phil to fire him.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try not to be a distraction from his work,” Dan shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

To his surprise, Frank laughed, “Don’t worry kid it’s just a silly staff bonding. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“I... I don’t want things to end up like whatever happened with Zack,” Dan admitted.

Frank realised that Phil probably never told this kid the full story.

“Hey kid, whatever happened back then was all on Zack. Phil met him at a club or something, was taken with him from the start. But the boy was never looking for anything serious, he just wanted to fool around. So they had that whole assistant arrangement thing. I admit I’d egged Phil on to do it at the start, just so I could have in on the action. And Phil let the kid do whatever he wanted, even if he didn’t like it. Anything to make the kid stay; he was that in love.”

Frank rolled his eyes at the memory.

“I started hating the kid when I realised how unfair he was being to Phil. They actually got together as a couple, you know? I guess there were mutual feelings at one point, but he was still fucking around with the staff. Can’t blame the staff because they never knew, Zack made sure he didn’t look like he was exclusively for Phil. I could tell Phil was upset by it, but didn’t do anything because he didn’t want to lose him.”

“Eventually he came to his senses. But he asked me to end it for him,” Frank shook his head.

Dan was listening intently, head swimming with this story he’d always wanted to know.

“But Phil told me he hadn’t meant to fall for Zack? And that Zack left?”

Frank put his hand up, pausing Dan before he was bombarded with more questions. He chuckled at the boy’s curiosity.

“Phil definitely fell for that boy the moment they met. And yeah so I went to speak with Zack like Phil asked, and the boy told me that he’d been wanting to leave anyway. He’d been acting out more to reach Phil’s limits so Phil would call it quits. That scheming brat.”

“Now I don’t know what got into Phil’s head to do this whole ‘assistant’ arrangement again, or how he even found you. If he’d asked me before he did it I would’ve talked him out of it, and maybe that’s why he hid it - you - from me. At first I thought that Phil never learned but I can see that he’s being more careful this time, too careful perhaps. Plus, you’re not at all like Zack.”

Dan bit his lip, glad that it seemed that Phil never mentioned to anyone the video that got him here.

“But I know Phil’s still scared even if he has nothing to be scared of this time around. He’s been my friend long before he was my boss, and I only want to see him happy. No matter the strange things he gets himself into. So I’m asking you because he won’t - does Phil mean something more to you?”

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

Phil was spending ages in the shower, standing under the steady stream even though his fingers were already wrinkled. Frank had texted to meet him, and he wanted to delay that as long as he could. His friend was most likely going to give him a lecture about bringing Dan all the way to New York, and he didn’t need that headache. He also didn’t know how to face Dan who was out there waiting for him.

He knew he needed to come clean with Dan about his feelings, but he was just scared. Of what, he wasn’t even sure anymore. Dan was always so willing to do anything for him, with him. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was the boss or if Dan truly wanted to be with him.

Deep down, he knew the answer to that. He stared at the water droplets running down his arms as he finally allowed himself to admit his own feelings, and that they were actually mutual.

Dan couldn’t have been more obvious, he’d have to be blind not to see it.

Still, he didn’t know if he could admit it to the boy. They couldn’t look back if they talked it out, and everything would change. What if Dan also wasn’t prepared?

They still had 2 days left of the trip, what if he’d read all the signals wrong - how would they survive the awkwardness before going home?

He spent some more time in his head until the water flowing down his back started feeling cold. He ran through everything he’d plan to say in his head and finally turned the shower off when he felt confident enough to face Dan. It was now or never. He just couldn’t delay it anymore, he knew Dan was out there waiting for him to talk. He’d just have to face the consequences that would come out of this, whether good or bad.

Things would be awkward enough if he refused to talk about it anyway, he thought as he put on his bathrobe and finally stepped out of the bathroom. And he’d deal with Frank after Dan.

He stepped out to find his boy sitting on the edge of the bed, looking quite shook up. Almost immediately he felt his own nerves make way for worry for Dan.

Before he could ask if he’s alright, Dan spoke up first.

“Um,” Dan said rather nervously, “Frank dropped by.”

“What?” Phil responded, surprised.

“Yeah,” Dan said as he stood up and retrieved his towel, “he said he’ll wait for you by the pool.”

“Did he say anything else?” Phil narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“No,” Dan replied, but Phil could tell he was lying by the way Dan avoided looking at him.

Dan made to walk past him to the bathroom but Phil caught his arm.

“Hey, I’m- I actually really enjoyed today and I’m sorry it kinda got ruined at the end, I’ll make it quick with whatever Frank wants and then. Can I make it up to you somehow later?”

That was not what Phil spent forty-five minutes in the shower planning, but he hated the thought of Dan being upset at him and just wanted to make him feel better.

Dan actually blinked back tears, making Phil feel worse. He had a feeling that Frank’s little visit to their room caused this. He started to regret leaving the poor boy alone for so long.

“I won’t let Frank disturb you ever,” Phil frowned.

“It’s fine,” Dan managed a small, timid smile, “I really enjoyed today, too. See you later.”

With that, Dan disappeared into the bathroom.

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

Phil stormed quickly to the pool, wanting to know what exactly Frank said to his boy. Or was Dan really that upset at him from the cafe that he cried while he was in the shower? He couldn’t miss the way Dan’s eyes looked slightly red.

He found his colleague sitting at a small table under an umbrella, people watching.

“What did you say to Dan?” He greeted angrily.

Frank looked up at him with a hint of amusement like he was expecting the anger.

“So were you ever planning to tell me that you love him?” Frank asked calmly.

Phil took a step back in shock at Frank’s blunt statement. But the shock turned to anger in an instant.

“Fuck you!” He swore, upsetting a mother nearby who glared at him as she ushered her daughter away from them.

“Real classy, Phil,” Frank shook his head as he watched the mother hurry away with her child. His sneaky smile was still plastered on his face and Phil wanted to punch it off.

“What did you say,” Phil repeated, “that made him cry?!”

“Are we going to have this conversation properly or are you just gonna be yelling at me the whole time?” Frank asked, gesturing for Phil to sit next to him.

Phil huffed, but he sat.

“If I answer your question will you answer mine?” Frank asked expectantly.

Phil narrowed his eyes but Frank took that as a yes.

“I just asked him what you mean to him,” Frank shrugged.

“Wha-”

“Because,” Frank interrupted him, “I know you. You couldn’t ask him yourself, so I’m just helping you to get on with it. Seriously Phil, were you ever gonna do anything about it if I hadn’t seen y’all at the cafe?”

Phil wanted to blow up at Frank again but he knew Frank was right. His friend knew him all too well. He’d always chickened out and asked Frank for help, and he thought that maybe this one time he could do things on his own. Turns out Frank saw right through him. He sighed in defeat, knowing Frank was right. He never planned to talk things out with Dan if Frank hadn’t caught them.

“You know what the kid told me?”

Phil looked at Frank miserably, dreading whatever Dan possibly told him. Dan probably had had enough of the way he always avoided the elephant in their room.

“You mean everything to him, Phil. D’you know that? Everything.”

Phil felt a twinge in his chest upon hearing those words, of a pain he didn’t quite understand.

Frank sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table.

“I’m sorry for snooping. But when I first realised you were doing this assistant shit again I was honestly pissed off because I didn’t want you to get caught up in another Zack again.”

Phil looked away guiltily, they both knew he couldn’t get out of that mess without Frank’s help.

“I just had to make sure. I never expected the kid to cry in front of me, I’m sorry.”

“I guess the day was just too much for him,” Phil sighed, wanting nothing more than to go back to their room to comfort the boy.

“He was at a low point in his life when you took him in,” Frank said, “poor kid was jobless, broke and alone, having random hookups just to feel wanted. So desperate that he was willing to be your personal escort. But then you gave him something no random hook up could. Besides the money, of course.”

Phil gulped, he realised Dan never actually opened up about where he was before this job. They talked lots about their likes, dislikes. Where they wish to be in 10 or 20 years. Their childhood pets. But he never wanted to talk much about what he’d been doing after dropping out of university. Phil teased him about the video submission sometimes, but he tried asking about it properly once and Dan refused to say anything, so Phil never brought it up again.

“Apparently he’d never felt like he wanted to be with anyone as much as he does with you. But he thought you’d never feel the same. That was when the waterworks started.”

Phil was quite surprised by everything Frank’s telling him. How come Dan could easily confide in this man he just met? Then again, Frank had a way with being a listening ear and helping hand. He had many years of friendship with Frank to vouch for that.

“I didn’t know how to deal with that, I just told him to quickly wipe that off if he didn’t want you to come out of the shower seeing him crying and all,” Frank shrugged guiltily.

“But I did tell him I’ll help him talk to you. So now that I’ve answered your question, are you gonna answer mine?”

“....Was I in the shower that long?” Phil asked.

“You were,” Frank deadpanned, “but good thing you were or he wouldn’t have told me all that.”

Phil sighed and leaned back in his seat. He watched a couple kissing in the jacuzzi at the far end of the pool as he absorbed what Frank just told him.

They sat in silence for a while, Frank giving his friend time he knew he needed.

“I- I do,” Phil’s voice broke and his words came out a whisper, “love him.”

Frank looked on, letting him know he was listening.

“But I’m a fucking coward. I don’t want it to end up the way it did with Zack.”

“You do know this kid, don’t you? I only talked to him a few minutes and I know he’ll never be anything like Zack was.”

Phil blinked back tears of his own.

“I understand why you’ve been so guarded. But you can’t lead that poor kid on like this.”

“I know, but what am I supposed to do?!” Phil asked exasperatedly.

“This is the same man I’ve seen so confidently making deals with big clients and partners,” Frank rubbed his temples.

“I know how to do my job, that’s easy. This. Isn’t,” Phil flailed his hands.

“Just be sincere and tell him. You have nothing to worry about, trust me. You both now know for sure what’s going on, what’s there to lose?”

The couple Phil had been watching finally stepped out of the jacuzzi, giggling as they huddled together in a towel wrapped around both of them and headed back into the hotel.

In that moment, Phil wanted nothing more than to hold Dan close the same way. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, nodding at Frank’s reassurance.

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

Back in the room, Dan was terrified of what would happen when Phil returns. He hadn’t meant to break down in front of Frank like that. He cringed at how he was so open and vulnerable to an almost stranger. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he’d trusted Frank to help speak to Phil. But how sure could he be that Frank wasn’t going to turn against him and inform Phil to get rid of the assistant who’d fallen for him?

He’d taken a quick shower and finally got the toys off him. It still felt weird to do it himself. He paced around a bit afterwards, wishing their room had a view of the pool so he could see Phil and Frank.

He had no idea what Frank would really tell Phil even though Frank tried assuring him that he only wanted what’s best for both him and Phil. What if ‘best’ meant making sure Phil leaves him?

The wait was excruciating and the tea he made for them did nothing to soothe his nerves. He waited until his drink finished and Phil’s had gone cold.

His mind came up with plenty of scenarios, more bad than good, but he did not know what he could say in any case. How would Phil even react to whatever Frank told him?

He reasoned with himself that Frank was on his side, after all Frank did tell him that Phil does in fact have feelings for him. He didn’t want to believe it, but the more he thought about their seven or so months together, the more he realised that it could actually be true. And maybe he’d known all along, he’d just been afraid to let himself down on the off chance that he was wrong.

Soon enough his thoughts exhausted him and he resigned to his side of the bed, curling up against the headboard. He could do nothing but wait.

---------

Phil quietly opened the door. Back at the pool Frank had given him the courage to face what was coming, but it faded with every step towards his room. He couldn’t help being nervous even though he knew he had to make things clear once and for all.

He stepped into the dark room, fumbling for the light switch. The whole suite was in darkness, could Dan have gone to sleep already?

But then a soft glow illuminated the bedroom, meaning Dan heard him enter and turned on the bedside lamp. He slowly made his way to the bedroom, feeling his heart thud faster.

Dan sat up from his curled up position when he heard Phil enter, not knowing what to do with himself. He stepped out of the bed just in time for Phil to walk into the bedroom.

There was a few seconds of stunned silence as they both just stood and stared at each other.

Dan’s heart was thumping wildly, and he wondered if Phil’s was doing the same. He broke their quiet stillness first, gesturing awkwardly to the cup of tea he’d made for Phil on the bedside table.

“I-I made-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Phil had quickly strode over the space between them at the same time, and interrupted him with a crushing hug.

Dan gasped as he was squeezed in Phil’s arms wrapping around him tightly like Phil was afraid that he would disappear if he let go. The surprise dissipated soon enough and he brought his own arms around Phil.

Only then was Phil able to heave a breath of relief.

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

~Part 11~

the end is near :) and you’ll soon be free of having to wait 2 months between each update!!

[smoljamswrites]

all is fair in love & war | bts x reader | chapter 4

pairing: bts x female reader

genre: mafia!au, series fic, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut

warnings for this chapter: abuse, fat levels of angst (but then there’s a fluffy part that’s then killed by more angst), swearing, degradation, mentions of stalking, y/n cries? is this a potential trigger, idk? 

a/n: just an fyi, incase it isn’t clear, the italics in paragraphs are thoughts. Plus, I apologise if this chapter seems a little jumpy in terms of moving from scene to scene - but it’s just so I could get the story to progress quicker, so I can get into the real meat of it. Oh and I probably butchered the Korean street name system thingy so if you could excuse that, that’d be great. Thanks for reading and supporting this fic! I love you all!!

fic playlist is here x

Clutching at your hair, Sunny roughly drags you into the living room. To say she was livid would be an understatement. The anger darkened her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed, and jaw clenched as she brought you to a stop – right in front of Yunseo and some of the other members. She had phoned them when you begged her to not to tell anyone about the guy in the car, declaring you had a “contact within the outside world”. They had sent a car to pick you both up at that moment, and her hands haven’t left your hair since – gripping onto it so hard, making your eyes water.

Yunseo sits directly in the middle of the leather sofa, his crew of Syndicates placed strategically around the room. They’re expecting me to run…interesting. You’re pushed down onto the floor, your knees harshly colliding with the solid laminate.

Before you even lift your head to meet his eyes, Yunseo has already began to raise his voice. “Who was the guy, Y/N?!” his voice was filled with hatred, fires of fury smouldering his narrowed eyes. You look down onto the floor, shaking your head, not saying a word. Why the fuck would I tell them Jungkook’s name? They’re gonna have to try a lot harder than this, you muse.

A sinister chuckle escapes past Yunseo’s lips, and it makes your stomach churn. You know it isn’t long until they start getting violent, but that isn’t going to make you cave. Not yet. “Listen, we can do this the easy way – you tell me his name, how you know him and what was said between you two – or we can do this the hard way” at that Yunseo rises from his seat and the other members follow suit to loom over you.

You’re on your knees, head lifted to meet eyes with your intimidators. Your eyes wander to Juwon, and you find yourself surprised he isn’t playing with your hair or finding another way to place his grimy hands on you. A smirk toys on his lips, liking the way you look through your eyelashes at him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Sick fucking bastard! Your blood is boiling; you are sick and tired of being treated like this. Like you’re just a possession to them. Adrenalin hits you, and it makes you feel alive. Your heart is beating so fast, you feel as if it going to fly straight out of your chest. Standing up, you notice for the second time this week you are feeling yourself getting brave.

“No. Why don’t you fucking listen to me? Fuck you! I hate all of you! Why didn’t you just kill me, huh? Kill me! Go on, I dare you!” the adrenalin is flowing through your blood, and it feels like you can’t control your limbs, which is why it is such a surprise to you as much as it is to your ‘superiors’ when you lay your hands on Juwon. Putting all the force you could muster; you use both hands to push at his figure. Due to Juwon not expecting this, he falls back, rage evident on his face as soon as he reaches the ground. Within the same millisecond, your body is dragged back by somebody else, arms restricted, and you don’t even wince when Yunseo’s fists come flying towards your face. You don’t know whether it’s the surge of adrenalin or if its because you’re used to the pain by now, but you just feel numb to his actions. Each punch, to both your face and body, sends signals to your brain that makes it feel like your internal organs should be bursting – but yet you don’t seem to feel a thing. It’s like you’re unconscious, but you can see everything that is happening. All you can feel is your heart beating loudly in your ears, and it’s almost deafening.  

“Who the fuck was it, you dirty fucking slut?!” Yunseo’s spit flies at your face, amazingly faster than the blows.

It is at this moment, that your body realises what is happening. Your mind snaps back into reality and every hit sends a painful jolt through your body. Your face is soaked from the tears, and you’re screaming, finding it hard to hear your own screams over their harsh words. You need this done with, and you need it done with now.

“F-fine I’ll tell you! Just don’t hit me again, please!” you whimper out. The member who was propping up your body lets go, leaving your limp form to fall to the ground. You can hear snickers coming from around the room. They really think they’ve won, huh? Cute.

“I-I met him at ‘Angels’ and to be honest I don’t really know him. But for the past few days, he seemed really obsessed with me. When I saw h-him outside the shop, it creeped me out, I didn’t expect him to be there, and I lost my cool, I guess.” You begin, trying to simultaneously catch your breath, “I went up to his car and literally asked him why he was following me. And when he wouldn’t answer me, I called him a creep and left. That was when I saw Sunny there.”

They all hold the same look on their face – like they want to believe you but they’re not quite sure yet. Your throat feels on fire from all the screaming and crying, but you find it in you to continue, wanting to finish your web of lies perfectly, “I didn’t want to tell you because I see the way you hurt people, and he seemed like an ordinary guy, just too caught up in his own horny feelings and I didn’t want you to hurt him because of that. I guess I felt scared for him.”

The Sin Syndicate members all look towards their leader, awaiting their new order, and you do the same, praying that they believe your story. Yunseo scratches at his stubble on his jaw, seemingly deciding on his next step. He addresses the members first, not bothering to look in your direction, “We’ll keep an eye out for him – Sunny you know what he looks like right? Perfect.” And then he spares a glance at you, “As for you, get to bed, I don’t want to see you right now.”

Your legs shake and your whole body feels extremely sore. Clutching at your own waist, as if you were stopping your intestines from falling out, you drag yourself to your room. You flop down onto your bed, head pounding. Yet all you can think about is Jungkook’s safety – what will happen if they find him? God I shouldn’t even care about him, he’s a fucking stalker! But yet you still reach into your drawer fifteen minutes later to retrieve your phone, deciding on warning Jungkook.

Fuck. Your phone shows you that you have already had missed calls and many text messages from him. You move your thumb to press the correct button to get onto the messaging app, then instantly press again to pull up the conversation between you and Jungkook.

Jungkook: please don’t be mad! I can explain, I promise. It’s just not something that I can explain quickly x [19:26]

Jungkook: ‘You have missed calls from ‘Jungkook’ at 19:29 and 19:41. This is a free call alert.’

Jungkook: please don’t ignore me Y/N, it’s important that I know that you’re okay x [19:59]

Jungkook: ‘You have missed 3 calls from ‘Jungkook’. This is a free call alert’.

Jungkook: Just hear me out Y/N x [20:04]

You feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach. You can tell Jungkook is worried about you and you hate that you made him concerned. But you still need to think about his actions, following you around is not okay. You have every right to feel mad. It’s because of him that you just got the beating of your lifetime!

You: I don’t understand how you’re eager to give me answers all of a sudden, when earlier you wouldn’t give them me!? What’s changed now? Finally worked out an excuse? [20:13]

He messages back relatively fast, which draws your mind back to feeling guilty for worrying him. Oh God! I still have to warn him!

Jungkook: I get that you’re mad but not replying for almost an hour after I last seen you isn’t funny! You had me so fucking worried! I literally thought the worst, okay! I thought something had happened to you. WTF?! As for the answers you want (and deserve) I will give them you, I promise. All you gotta do is meet with me because I need to explain things face to face, it’s easier. The situation is too complicated for me to rush the explanation or to type it out on text x [20:15]

Leaving isn’t a problem. It’s the making sure Jungkook remains safe and that he isn’t seen by any Sin Syndicate member that’s the issue.

You: I’d be happy to meet you so I could finally know wtf is going on, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to. [20:16]

You know that you have to go; this could be your opportunity to explain to him that he needs to be careful – maybe you could explain to him the full situation…can you trust him with that?

You: Okay so I have an idea. But for it to work, you gotta be able to work with me or this could end terribly, trust me! (I’ll explain later!) Make sure you are by your phone all day tomorrow, if you can, and when I have the chance to meet you, I’ll message you to let you know. I don’t know what time it will be but it will definitely be tomorrow because I really need to tell you something too! [20:18]

Jungkook: deal. x [20:18]

Not wanting to be the cause of his fretting again, you ensure to message him one last time before turning your phone off and getting some well-deserved sleep.

You: Goodnight x [20:19]

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

You haven’t been able to concentrate all morning. You haven’t got a performance on main stage today, but you still had to show up for work, especially with what had happened the night before. So you’ve been preoccupying yourself with speaking to clients and helping the waiters and waitresses. There is no way you’ll be practicing today, let alone performing for everyone. Currently, you’re sat at the bar, swirling your tiny umbrella around in your glass.

Getting yourself out of bed this morning was a nightmare. As soon as you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, it had sent an aching pain right through your entire being. Your head felt too heavy to carry from the offset, and all you wanted to do was to lie back down again. But you knew you couldn’t. If you wanted everything to go smoothly you knew you had to start moving.

You feel almost criminal – your phone being hidden in the fluffy slipper sock that your wearing, planning to sneak out for a while. The girls haven’t spoken to you yet, but they don’t miss the opportunity to send malicious glares in your direction. Not that you want them to speak to you; you know they hate you and the feeling is mutual. Just then someone places their hand on your back, and you jump at the feeling.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong? You’re all jumpy…is everything okay?” a familiar voice begins to calm your worries, and the way his comforting tone spills past his lips with ease sends a foreign sensation to your core. You move to meet his eyes, and a concerned look adorns his face.

“I’m fine Jin. Just got a lot on at the moment, I guess.” You decide to play it safe, considering you blurted out probably more than you should have done, the last time. But still, his evident worry doesn’t fade.

Taking a seat next to you at the bar, he ghosts his hand over yours- almost like he was deciding whether he should take your hand in his, but then chose against it. “Is there anything that I can help with?” You snap your head in his direction. Oh my god, what a fucking genius!

Your emotions must have shown on your face, because his brows drew together like he was wondering what you could be thinking about.  

“Yes! Woah okay so,” you begin turning your body and bringing your hands together in excitement. Your voice instantly lowers as you speak again, “I need to meet a, well uhm-, a friend. But the problem is, I can’t leave. It’s super important that I meet with him today, so maybe, if you could help me that would be amazing! I’m thinking that you could wait half an hour or so, then request a private dance from me? And that way then they’ll think I’m preoccupied elsewhere, meaning that I could leave? What do you think?”

“Yeah sure, I’d be happy to help.”

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

Making yourself look busy with other clients for the next 30 minutes was harder than you had anticipated. You struggled to focus on the conversations you were having with them, as your mind kept flitting back to your previous chat with Seokjin.

God he’s a lifesaver! I seriously owe him one.

After what seemed like centuries, Yunseo calls your name. Making your way to him, you tried to look as sheepishly as possible, knowing it’d be best to make this stunt look believable. “Y-yes sir?” Nice! Make him think you’re scared after yesterday.

He doesn’t bother to speak for long, evidently pissed at your antics this week, “A gentleman has offered me a pretty large sum of money to book two back-to-back private dance slots with you. I’d be an idiot not to accept, so you’ll be in there for an hour. Keep him happy.” And with that he’s gone. You have to look at the floor to prevent anyone watching from seeing the smile forming on your lips.

Entering the same private dance room as last time, you quickly shut the door and squeal as you make your way over to where Jin is sitting.

“You are currently my favourite person ever! You’ve given me a whole hour! You’re the best seriously!” You know you look like an idiot because you just can’t stop smiling. You pull out your phone from the side of your sock and begin to text Jungkook.

You: Hey, I’m okay to leave now, but I must be back before half one x [12:33]

Bringing your attention back onto Jin, a sudden realisation hits you. “Shit! You’re gonna have to hide for an hour while I’m gone!” The smile is instantly wiped off your face, as you prepare yourself for an annoyed Seokjin. Yet, he doesn’t appear annoyed at all.

Shaking his head and continuing to smile, he stands up, “I know. Don’t worry! If you wanted, I could drive you to wherever you needed to go to meet your friend?” he goofily shakes his car keys and you giggle.

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

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, you are speechless. This dude must be earning the big bucks if this is his own fucking Chevrolet Corvette! The shutting of Jin’s door brings you back to reality, “So where are we going?”

Oh right, duh. Removing your phone from your sock once more, you turn on the screen to read Jungkook’s message and position it so Jin can see.

Jungkook: okie dokie, do you know where the café is on Myeongnyun-ro? It’s only a few minutes away from Angels x [12:35]

“ahh right then, lets go!”

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

Getting out the car and thanking Jin, you make your way towards the café door. Instantly you start fretting as Jungkook is nowhere to be seen. Sitting down at a booth, you begin to text him, but you’re interrupted by the door in front of you opening, making the little bell above it ding!

Jungkook walks through the door and you swear to God you stop breathing for a second. Your eyes trace his tall, well-built figure; from his chocolatey tousled hair down to his two-toned, bulky shoes. When his eyes meet yours, they instantly light up, and he moves his hand; gesturing for you to come over. As you get closer, the more nervous you feel. You notice the way he bites his bottom lip, and starts wringing his hands together, and that made you relax. He was just as nervous as you were. Reaching his figure, you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Your mind wanders to the night that you met, and a goofy smile overtakes your features.

“Hey, what drink would you like?” he says, nerves still evident in the way he spoke.

“You’re sounding like Mr. Persistent Bartender again” you giggle, proud of the way he visibly loosens up at the sound of your joke.

Jungkook lets out a chuckle, as he rolls his shoulders back, “Shut up, lemme buy you a drink” he whines. His voice cuts straight through your heart, sending warmth through your body. Yet you can’t let him give you another drink for free.

“No no it’s fine! I’m not thirsty. Don’t spend your money.” You reach to grab his arm, as he moves in direction of the employee standing at the till.

All your efforts go to waste when he shakes his head at you, dismissing your previous comment, “Hey, I’ll take a coffee and… she’ll have a hot chocolate.” You pull on his arm like a child and tell him you’re fine, but this only spurs him on further. A smirk sits on his lips as he continues, “and can the hot chocolate have whipped cream and marshmallows too please?” He looks down at your unimpressed face, and he coos ruffling your hair. God, you’re going to be the death of him!

“Would you like sprinkles too?” you hear the barista ask, but you’re too late to reject the sprinkles as Jungkook has already beaten you too it. And of course he says yes.

“That’ll be £7.85 please. And I must say, you guys are such a cute couple!” the barista gushes and you feel heat rise to your face. You peer over to Jungkook and see him giving her the money with the biggest smile on his face.

“Thanks! Keep the change.” Grabbing both of the drinks, Jungkook walks back to the booth, with you trailing behind him, embarrassed. You slide in the seat opposite him and he pushes the hot chocolate towards you. Sarcastically rolling your eyes, you move the cup towards your mouth to take a sip. It tasted so heavenly; you swear you could have orgasmed. Lifting your eyes from the cup to look at Jungkook, you see he’s already looking at you – and he’s looking at you expectantly.

“….what?”

“You first.” The two words sends you into a frenzy, reminding you of why you’re actually here. Fidgeting in your seat slightly, you remove eye contact as you think about how to tell him. Okay so you’re gonna have to never ever speak to me again because I don’t want you to die. So, it’s been nice knowing you! Thanks for the hot chocolate.

You cough, ensuring your voice still works before lowering your voice, “Okay so what I’m about to tell you is really serious. I’m not joking or lying or whatever. I really need you to believe me, okay? I’ve lied to you – I don’t live at a stupid dorm, and I don’t go to college. In fact, the only proper schooling I have ever had was only for 2 years and it stopped when I was like 5. And from then, ‘til the age of 11 I was home schooled, if you could even call it that.” You realise you’re rambling, and you quickly decide to get to the point, “I live with these people. They’re not really nice and they hurt people and sometimes they hurt me,” You don’t notice as you’re not looking at him, but Jungkook tenses at this admission. “they don’t let me have proper contact with anyone. And um- they saw you speaking to me yesterday. Well, Sunny did, and she told the others, and I’m so fucking sorry but they’re looking for you now. And well, I need you to delete my number, stop talking to me, and forget about me forever just so I know that you’ll be safe-“

Your little speech is cut off by a giggle, and your eyes dart up, finally, to meet his. Why the fuck does he find this funny? Does he think I’m joking? Furrowing your eyebrows together, your whispering voice harshens, “Guk, I’m being serious here! I can’t believe-“

His voice is considerably loud compared to your quietened tone, “Y/N calm down, I’m pretty sure I can handle Syndicate” Jungkook finds your state of confusion very amusing, as he rests his head on his hand and smiles right at you.

Before you can interrogate him on how he knows Sin Syndicate, he cuts you off, “My turn yeah?” he moves his hand to take a hold of yours, “I’ve been following you since you came to our club because I’ve been worried. We all have. And by we, I mean…Bangtan. I’m sure you’ve heard of us…” his eyes search yours and all he sees in return is pure panic. “Please hear me out! We don’t want to hurt you, I promise. Bangtan doesn’t hurt innocent people – we protect the innocent. All through my training, I was told the chilling story of the young girl, who had to be kidnapped due to a slip up in the Syndicate’s System, tortured not just by the grief of losing her family, but by the men who held her captive. When the new generation of Bangtan took over 7 years ago, we vowed to find that girl, and keep her safe. And here you are. You don’t need to worry about me, yeah? Syndicate doesn’t know our true identities, and it’s gonna stay that way, right?”

Your heart is thumping so loud, you’re certain he can hear it, “…oh yeah. I won’t tell anyone, I promise” your voice is barely a whisper. You feel so fucking numb, it feels like you’re dreaming.

“So, do you have any questions?”

Do you? “Um, I don’t know, my mind’s a little blank at the moment. This is a lot to take in. Um- do you kill people then?”

He lets out a breath, and gently moves his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, “not in the way Syndicate does. Syndicate will kill anything that breathes, just to make a point. We kill people that are like Sin Syndicate. Does this make sense?” he looks up from your hands to meet your gaze, and you quickly nod, “The best person to have explain to you all the technical stuff is our leader Namjoon.”

Now it’s your turn to divert your gaze again, as you ask a question you really don’t want the answer too, “ahh, so you all have roles then?”

“Yeah.” Gulp. ”I’m Bangtan’s assassin.”

You immediately tense. Assassin? Like the one in charge of killing people? Like the guy who murdered my family? No way. I can’t do this.

“Y/N-“

You flinch at the sound of his voice, standing up and instantly ripping your hand away from his. You feel sick to your stomach. “I gotta go, they’ll be wondering where I am” you say quickly, trying to blink back the tears that were starting to form. And just like that you exit the café and leave Jungkook behind, wondering what on earth he’s just done.

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

You enter through one of the fire exits at the back of the club and head straight for the toilets. Running into a cubicle, you quickly lock the door behind you and sit on the closed seat. The tears that you had held back were now escaping, causing sobs to rush past your lips. With your head in your hands, tears drip through your fingers, onto the tiles below. Your breathing hitched as you hear his confession again.

‘I’m Bangtan’s assassin.’

Thud! Thud! Thud! You’re interrupted by a banging on the stall door.

“Y/N is that you?” the voice called, and you recognise it to be Grace’s.

“..yeah..”

A breathy laugh sounds out into the room, “good! We thought you did a runner!”

You stay in the cubicle for a while longer – only coming out when you know Grace has left. Letting the door swing behind you, you head straight to the sink to wash your face.

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

Meanwhile, Jungkook is walking aimlessly around the city. Filled to the brim with rage and self-loath, he is wandering various streets, the only company he has is his thoughts.

Why the fuck did I tell her that I’m an assassin? I’ve fucked everything up. Now what’s she gonna do, huh? She could snitch on us all, which is unlikely but not impossible. Or she could cut contact with me. Either way, the guys are gonna be pissed. Oh god, what if she got caught heading back? What if they’re beating her right now? I swear to God if I find-

“OI!” someone yells from behind him, making him instantly turn to find out who’s shouting. Two guys and one girl stalk towards him – is that the Sunny girl?  They head straight towards him, but Jungkook’s never been one to back down from a fight.

“Yep, that’s him boys. Get him!” Sunny remains in her spot, about 3 metres away from Jungkook. She crosses her arms as she watches the drama unfold.

The two men lunge for Jungkook, but it’s him that gets the first punch. Hitting one of them, they stumble back, whilst the other slams Jungkook, head first, into some near by shutters. Punching the man in the gut, Jungkook gets his own back; but it’s not long until the duo gets the upper hand. Jungkook is left in a bad shape, as he slides down the shutters. The 3 Syndicates laugh menacingly as they leave – unaware of who they’ve just laid their hands on.

Pulling his phone out from his pocket, he quickly dials the number he was searching for.

“Hyung...?”

next chapter update: Wednesday 19th February 2020 9pm gmt

tagging: @dearlydreadful​ @honeydewseoks​ @whimsicalwoodlands​ @toddsgirl27​ @wendyiiwl​ @asifetch7​ @barbyisafangirl​ @miraculyfe​ @btsxdoll​ @laluzdirectioner​ @slutkoo​ @bubbletae7​ @h5naaa​ @smollmonajinsa​ @vivpurple7​ @purplelady85​ @vi-hoshi​ 

let me know if you wanna be tagged in future chapters!

Thank you so much for reading

all rights reserved © smoljamswrites | 09/02/2020 | reposting my work or modifying of any kind is strictly not allowed. Translations are also not allowed. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #396

“every time i leave, you say you won’t be there, & you’re always there”

So, is it gif with a hard G or soft G? I used to say "jif," but now I pronounce it as "gif." If you use libraries, what is the largest overdue fine you’ve ever had? *shrug* Do you ever borrow things other than books from the library? I remember back in the day, they used to offer educational computer games, and I bought a dinosaur one as a kid that I was madly obsessed with. Are there still any movie rental places left where you live? Just Redbox things outside of some stores. Do you ever buy secondhand books (or DVDs, video games, CDs)? Yeah; Ebay is my friend. Or do you prefer them to be brand new? I mean yeah, but it's not a massive deal to me so long the thing is operational or not falling apart. Do you ever write fanfic? Of what? Nah. Do you ever READ fanfic? Of what? Also nah. Do you have a favorite classical composer? No. Have you ever had multicolored/rainbow hair? No, but I would LOVE to. What kind of hats, if any, do you like to wear? I don't wear hats. What is your #1 deal-breaker with friendships? If you're manipulative, byyyyyeeeee~ Who is your favorite character on Bob’s Burgers and why? (If you watch it) I've seen some episodes, but I don't actually watch it. Have you ever had a retro celebrity crush? Like a crush on an “old” celebrity who was most famous a long time ago or is long dead? Audrey Hepburn, for one, is drop-dead GORGEOUS. When you buy/receive new clothes, do you instantly wear them or wash first? It depends on what I bought and where it's from. What’s the weirdest item you’ve seen for sale on Ebay? Idk. Are parents to blame for what their kids do on the Internet? No; kids make their own choices. I do, however, believe the parents should monitor what they do until they reach a certain degree of maturity, as well as the child's history with what they've done on the Internet. Do you use acronyms to remember things? Sometimes. Do you take pills like Tylenol for the littlest aches and pains? No. Only if I'm really in pain will I take Ibuprofen/Advil. Don’t you think Crocs are ugly? Big time. I don't know why they're in vogue now when they used to be so widely hated. When was the last time you went roller skating? Oh, it's been years. Who was your favorite Ninja Turtle? I was never into the franchise. Horror flicks make you: laugh, scream, or squirm? I prefer the ones that make you uneasy. I'm not a big fan of the nasty ones, and I want to feel on edge when I'm watching a horror film, but it's EXTREMELY rare I become legitimately scared. If you could become a doctor, what would you specialize in? Uhhhh. Maybe genetic disorders. What’s the cutest thing a little kid has ever said to/in front of you? I'm sure it was something my niece or nephew said, but I'm unsure of what. They've said many adorable things. Did any characters from TV shows scare you as a kid? Which one(s)? FUCKING KING RAMSES FROM COURAGE THE COWARDLY DOG. FUCK he gave me nightmares. What’s the saddest thing you’ve heard on the news recently? I was very saddened to hear about the giraffe that died giving birth. Do you believe that acupuncture works? I'm not educated enough on this subject. Have you ever been hypnotized? No, and I don't believe it's possible to be. What’s the first food you can smell when you enter the mall? The soft pretzels, omg. That little stand is my favorite part of our local mall. They make DELICIOUS pretzels. What is the worst hurt you’ve ever experienced? Jason leaving. Are huge muscles gross or sexy? Like serious body builders, it's gross to me. I prefer a natural musculature. Have you ever fished and caught something weird? I know I have, but what isn't coming to mind. Do you use an umbrella when it rains? Unless it is absolutely pouring, no. Do you like getting caught in the rain? No. What is the hardest part of cleaning for you? It requires physical exertion and I am INCREDIBLY weak with non-existent stamina. Do you have any fake flowers in your room? No. Do you own any succulents? No. What is your favorite thing about spring? The only thing I like about spring are all the flowers. What is something you find hard to draw? HANDS. UGH. Was it sunny for your senior prom pictures? Sigh. It was a beautiful sunset. I REALLY wish I didn't delete all those pictures from existence. Have you ever seen a double rainbow? I've seen like, a triple rainbow. What’s one thing you want to learn how to make? Your ordinary meals. I really want to be able to cook my own food from scratch. Do you have stomach issues? Maybe TMI, but it's been questioned but not fully examined that I may have IBS. My stomach is very sensitive. When was the last time you apologized and didn’t mean it? I'm not sure. Do you prefer to be the “talker” or the “listener” in a conversation? The listener. What’s a movie that you think everyone should see? Johnny Got His Gun. If you could have any hair color, what color would you want? Either pastel pink or light creamsicle orange. When was the last time you saw your “first love”? February of 2017. Who’s the smartest person you know personally? My best guy friend Girt. What makes them so smart? He's just very intelligent. Book-smart. Are there any bands/artists that get you all emotional? Ozzy. He and his music are so important to me. What’s your favourite aunt or uncle’s first name? Robert. Have you ever done a first aid course? No. What time do you generally wake up in the morning? It varies from like, 6:00-8:30ish. If you could have one superpower, what would it be? Definitely shapeshifting. I'd love to be a druid, man. Do you ever make surveys? If so, are they long or short? No, but I combine them because I don't like surveys that are too short by my standards. When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? Honestly, probably never. I love my current hairstyle, but I most certainly plan on dyeing it maaaany more times. As a child, what was your favorite game to play? I was hooked on the first three Spyro games. I would play 'em over and over. Do any of your siblings have significant others? Do you like them? My older sister is married, and I am NOT a fan of her husband. He's WAY too conservative and bigoted and racist and misogynistic, etc. etc. He's wonderful as a dad, like holy shit he loves his kids, but his beliefs are abhorrent. Dad's daughter is also married, and her husband is awesome. Mom's eldest daughter is also married, and her husband seems cool. My brother has a fiancee that I've never met. Do you believe in the concept of global warming? No fucking shit I do. It's impossible to logically deny, especially as the years go on. When was the last time you took a picture of something? Was it yourself? I took some pictures of this beautiful hydrangea bush outside the TMS office a few days ago. When drinking soda, do you prefer bottles or cans or poured in a glass? Cans, because it stays colder. Do you wear deodorant? Um, yes? If you had a pet pig, what would you name it? Probably something very unoriginal, like Wilbur. Do you like Led Zeppelin? I LOVE "Kashmir." "Stairway to Heaven" was madly important to me, but yeah... I can't listen to it anymore. Like seriously, I haven't in years. Do you like hugs? I do. Have you read the Constitution of the United States of America? Only the Bill of Rights for school. Do you have your own computer or use a family one? I have my own laptop. Do you take out the trash? Sometimes. Is there a calendar in the room you’re in? Outdated meerkat ones. What is your best friend’s name? Sara Jane. :') Have you ever seen a real-life cop chase? Maybe? What is your favorite shape? Circles. Are pigs adorable or dirty? They're precious! And pigs are actually a lot cleaner than people think, if they're not muddy. Anything moldy in your house? Not to my knowledge. Our old house had a serious mold problem, though, which is the primary reason we had to move. Especially with Mom having cancer at the time, she needed to be in the most sterile environment possible. Have you ever been in an earthquake? No. Do you enjoy history? No. Are you watching TV right now? No, but rather GameGrumps on YT. Could you ever be a mortician? True shit, it actually doesn't seem THAT bad. Can you solve a Rubik’s cube? Never seriously tried. How many pets do you have? Just two right now. Are you more close with your mom or dad? My mom. Who is the person that has impacted your life the most? Jason. Or Mom. Have you ever had a pet fish? Yeah. Poor things, they had terrible husbandry. I've learned a hell of a lot from a YouTuber/streamer that is like obsessed with fish about just how misinformed people are on how to take care of various fish. Your goldfish in that little bowl died for a reason, you know. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Do you prefer tea or coffee? Both suck. Have you ever vaped? No. How did your parents meet? They were co-workers. What was your first word? "Dada." Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? ... I mighta lmao. When was the last time you had Nutella? A long time ago. It reeeeaaaally needs to stay out of my house, because I will eat it straight out of the jar. Name someone with a sexy sounding voice. So I don't know where this was, but Mark was once credited in something as "if chocolate had a voice" and I was like YOU FUCKIN BET YOUR SWEET ASS.

[trensu]

Episode 29: The One where WWX is the Grandmaster of Self-Loathing and It Kills Me

~THEIR SONG~ IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND ALREADY

WHICH MEANS WE’RE STARTING THE EPISODE WITH QUALITY WANGXIANTICS

Actually the whole episode has High Quality wangxiantics and then it guts you with depressing feelings ahahaha 

bc apparently we’re not allowed to have nice things without Suffering™

So they’re sharing a meal at some meal-selling place in Yiling (idk guys, is it a winehouse? a teahouse?? An inn??? DOESN’T MATTER)

Lwj and wwx are sitting on either side of the table looking somber

I guess they’re feeling awkward maybe??

Idk why, it’s weird

A-Yuan starts frolicking around lwj and wwx gets all antsy about it

He’s all hey, stop bothering lan zhan, come here!

And A-Yuan is all like, NO, I DON’T WANNA and clambers oNTO LWJ’S LAP

IT’S TOO ADORABLE

Wwx starts to scold him but lwj is like NO NO, THIS IS FINE

Wwx teases a-yuan

He’s all, oh, i see how it is, you’ll just chuck me to the side for anyone who’s willing to buy you stuff, huh?

Like i said before, a-yuan is a smart cookie

Then a-yuan takes a seat and goes to town on a bowl of soup.

I understand, a-yuan, i love soup too.

And then he calls wwx to get his attention SO HE CAN SPOON-FEED HIM A BIT OF HIS SOUP AND IT’S TOO CUTE 

Wwx is like, oh, so you DO still love me!

Lwj watches this go down and then informs A-Yuan very somberly of the lan fam rule “no talking during meals”

That’s RIGHT

LWJ JUST DAD’D THE HECK OUT OF HIM

A-yuan continues to chow down on his food but definitely stops talking

Wwx is offended and aghast that a-yuan obeys lwj so easily and he complains to lwj that he has to repeat himself SEVERAL TIMES before a-yuan listens to him

Lwj: silence during meals. You too.

Wwx just smiles at the ridiculous rule and continues talking

Wwx: you haven’t changed one bit. 

Wwx: you know, i know my way around this town, i can be your tour guide!!

Lwj pointedly does not take him up on his offer AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY, IT’S NOT LIKE HE DOESN’T WANT TO SPEND EVERY WAKING MOMENT WITH WWX ANYWAY

Wwx: lan zhan, you’re a terrible liar. You aren’t in town for me, are you?

And still lwj doesn’t respond??? 

IT’S BECAUSE OF THAT STUPID LAN FAM RULE, ISN’T IT??

TALK TO YOU SOULMATE, DAMN IT

WHO CARES IF YOU’RE HAVING A MEAL WHILE YOU’RE AT IT

Wwx: you know, i was gonna invite you over to my place but if you’re just gonna nag at me about my demonic cultivation and how i should meditate or whatever, then forget about it

Wwx: i can control myself! I don’t need anyone to save me.

Lwj: wei ying

Wwx: lan zhan, i finally bump into someone i know who doesn’t try to avoid me...it’s been a boring couple of months, why don’t you tell me about any big events happening?

Lwj: what do you mean by big events?

Wwx: idk, like if there’s any new clans or if any clans expanded or made new alliances...just chit chat! Anything is fine.

Lwj: a marriage

Wwx: a marriage? Which clans? 

he sounds so excited to get some juicy gossip here

It’s not gonna last long

Lwj: the jin clan and jiang clan

Wwx: do you mean my sister---Lady Jiang and Jin Zixuan?

Oh god it HURTS

He corrected himself when he called jyl his sister

BECAUSE HE’S NOT PART OF THEIR CLAN ANYMORE

And then he plasters on a smile TO HIDE HOW HURT HE IS THAT THIS IS ALL HAPPENING WITHOUT HIM and asks when the wedding will be

WHICH TURNS OUT TO BE TWO WEEKS AWAY

And his face iS ALL SAD AND HE’S STILL TRYING TO MUSTER UP SMILES 

He’s all, such a big event and jc didn’t even try to tell me about it!

Wwx: even if he told me about it, what could i do then? I defected officially and have no ties to them. What could i do if he had told me?

Wwx: *chugs wine*

Alcohol, wwx, we’ve talked about the alcohol thing. Please stop drinking.

LWJ CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT HIM RIGHT NOW BC HIS SOULMATE IS HURTING AND THERE’S NOTHING HE CAN DO TO MAKE IT BETTER

Wwx: lan zhan, what do you think about this marriage? Oh, right, you don’t care about this sort of thing.

Wwx: i know everyone says that my sister doesn’t deserve jzx, but in MY eyes, that peacock doesn’t deserve her! 

He slams down his wine jar and his voice gets all upset 

And little a-yuan reaches out and grabs wwx’s wrist TO COMFORT HIM, PRECIOUS DARLING BABY

Wwx: She deserves the best man in the world!! JC and i promised her a grand wedding that would be remembered forever!! No other wedding would compare!!

Wwx: and it doesn’t even matter because i won’t be able to go anyway.

AND HE HAS THE SADDEST SMILE ON HIS FACE 

Obviously he takes another swig of wine here because alcohol makes everything better in wwx’s book, which is a lie but since when does anyone listen to me

Lwj: wei ying

And lwj was about to say something else but they get interrupted by wwx’s home alarm talisman informing him that’s something going down in the burial mounds

So wwx grabs a-yuan and dashes out the door

Lwj is quick enough on his feet to remember to pay for the meal and grab a-yuan’s toys (very important, very important, it’s why a-yuan likes him right now) and then follows wwx

Wwx: lan zhan, why are you following us??

Lwj: wei ying, where’s your Magic Ghostbusting Sword?

Wwx: uhhhh...i forgot it at home?

Lol, lwj doesn’t even bother to respond to that. He just grabs a-yuan and runs with wwx all the way back to the burial mounds

OH NO, THERE’S RESENTFUL ENERGY EVERYWHERE BEATING PEOPLE UP AND MAKING A MESS OF THINGS

Holy crap, wwx does this really impressive Dramatic Twirl and magically slams the resentful energy away

HE’S SUCH A BADASS

IT’S ALL IN THE ~TWIRL~ BABY

Lwj hands a-yuan off to granny while wwx gets the low-down

Turns out Wen Ning sort of woke up but is not, like, all there or smth idk

It’s sad seeing wen ning all violent and mean like this when he’s such a gentle soul :(

ON THE PLUS SIDE, we get to see wwx and lwj work together to save him!!

Surprisingly, the flying here is not super cringey, it’s only mildly awful

LWJ HAS GOT HIS GUQIN OUT AND PROCEEDS TO GUQIN THE HECK OUT OF WEN NING

Also, i love how it kind of looks like he “powers up” his guqin attack by making that circular motion over the strings? The accompanying music from that motion really makes it seem like it’s charging up. I like it.

While lwj is guqin’ing wen ning to stay in one place, wwx goes ninja-fast and slaps like, ALL the talismans on wen ning and activates them simultaneously

And between the two of them, they manage to save wen ning from being a mindless zombie forever!! I mean, he’s still a zombie but he’s got his mind back! EVERYONE’S REALLY HAPPY, INCLUDING ME.

Wwx to wen ning: how are you feeling?

Wn: i feel like crying

LOL ME TOO WN THAT’S USUALLY HOW I FEEL LIKE WHEN PEOPLE ASK ME THAT

Wn: ...but i can’t

Oh.

I take back my lol

Not being able to cry when you want to is actually super depressing.

Lwj: you did it *is impressed*

Wwx: of course! I’m a man of my word. Hey, since you’re already here, why don’t you visit for a bit?

Cut to wwx and lwj walking into the cave that wwx calls home

Lwj: ...it’s called the demon-subdue palace?

Wwx: YEP! I named it myself!!

Wwx: now, i know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s a terrible name, BUT THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG

Wwx: see, i know everyone thinks i’m, like, evil or whatever and this is the place i sleep most often. 

Wwx: a cave with a demonic man lying down in it all the time? Of course it should be called demon-subdue palace lololol

Me: *facepalm* stop….stop naming things, wwx.

Wwx: let me show you around!

I would like to point out that they walk past the ONE BED in the cave to start the tour

This ONE BED in this SPECIFIC CAVE has featured in many a wonderful fic! And should continue to feature in many more wonderful fics

Wwx: this here is my Blood Pool! It’s where i heal up and buff my stats, just like you have your Cold Spring! Except mine has water that smells like blood and comes out of that creepy giant stone face thing

Lwj looks rightfully concerned

And also, i am offended on his behalf that wwx would compare this creepy ass pool to the cold spring. How very dare.

Oh man, they’re about to have a Serious Conversation

BUT IT’S BETTER THAN THEIR LAST SERIOUS CONVERSATION

Because this time they actually talk things out

(see, lwj can learn from his mistakes!)

Lwj: wei ying...can you really control it?

Wwx: control what? Wen ning? Of course I can! Look at him, he’s all better!

Lwj: what if he loses himself again?

Wwx: i’m a pro at handling his rampages now. As long as i have Plot Device 2, nothing will happen to him!

Lwj: but what if something happens to you or Plot Device 2?

Wwx: it won’t

Lwj: how can you be sure?

Wwx: it won’t and it can’t!

Lwj: you want to keep it this way from now on?

Wwx: what’s wrong with that? Don’t underestimate this land! It’s bigger than YOUR land and the food here tastes better too!

Lwj: wei ying, you know what i mean

Wwx: lan zhan, i’m trying to avoid the topic and you keep talking about it!!

Then their Serious Conversation gets derailed bc wwx starts coughing. Which might not seem like a big deal but it is

Lwj: your injuries…

And here lwj grabs at wwx’s wrist but wwx yanks it back real fast

Bc the wrist is where they check for spiritual energy or smth and we all know wwx doesn’t have that anymore, since he GAVE UP HIS GOLDEN CORE

Wwx: no need. Why use spiritual energy for such a small wound. I can just sit here and let it heal on its own

LOL, WE’RE GETTING A FUN BIT HERE TO MAKE UP FOR ALL THAT SERIOUS STUFF BEFORE

Wen Qing walks in and is all, what, my badass doctor skills aren’t good enough for you? I could totally heal you

Wwx: what are you doing here interrupting my date with lwj. Are you done crying already?

Wq: i’ll make you cry

Wwx: pffft, yeah right

Wq: *goes and hits wwx in the back*

Wwx: *coughs up blood*

Yeahhh, i wouldn’t want to go toe-to-toe with wen qing unless she asked me to and then i would happily do whatever she wanted

Wwx: you’re so cruel! *swoons like some maiden*

Lwj: wei ying! *catches him all gallantly*

WWX YOU LITTLE FAKER, YOU JUST WANTED LWJ TO HOLD YOU

And we know this bc wen qing pulls out her Very Scary Medical Needles and wwx wisely RUNS AWAY even tho he was all “passed out” two seconds before

And after that fun bit, the show makes me sad about tea somehow. I don’t even like tea.

Wwx is all, wen ning, why are you serving our guest water?? How embarrassing, go get the tea!

And wen ning is all, but there’s no tea??

Then wwx is like, well we gotta get tea for next time we have guests

There’s a hella awkward pause

Wwx: that’s right, we won’t have any more guests…

THIS STUPID SHOW IS GIVING ME FEELINGS ABOUT TEA

MY ONE TEA OBSESSED FRIEND HAS BEEN TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL STUFF FOR TEA FOR YEARS WITH NO SUCCESS

AND THIS, LIKE, TWO MINUTE SCENE MADE ME SAD ABOUT TEA

Anyway.

We cut to the next scene which has wwx walking lwj out of the burial mounds and we’re getting another Serious Conversation

Wwx: lan zhan, you asked me if i intended to keep things the way they are now. Tbh, i also would like to know what else i could do besides this.

Wwx: give up my crafty tricks and turn over Plot Device 2? What happens to the Wens? Do i turn them in? I can’t do that.

Wwx: i believe if you were me, you wouldn’t be able to do that either

WHY IS HE SUCH A GOOD PERSON. WWX IS BETTER THAN ALL THE OTHER CULTIVATORS PUT TOGETHER

Wwx: can anyone give me any better options? One where i can protect those i want to protect without using demonic cultivation?

He says this so passionately. HE JUST WANTS TO PROTECT PEOPLE. HE’S WILLING TO DO OTHER THINGS IF IT MEANS HE CAN STILL PROTECT PEOPLE BUT HE CAN’T!!! AND I AM DISTRESSED.

Lwj doesn’t say anything in response.

He knows wwx is right and there’s nothing he can do to make things better for him

Wwx: lan zhan, thank you for your company today. And thank you for telling me about my sister’s wedding

HE SAYS THIS WITHOUT LOOKING AT LWJ AND HE LOOKS LIKE EVERY WORD HIS HURTING HIM BECAUSE THEY’RE ALL WORDS HE’S USING TO SAY GOODBYE AND HE DOESN’T WANT TO SAY GOODBYE TO LWJ.

And before i can start crying, A-Yuan appears to make me feel better!!!

He’s latched onto lwj’s leg again (bc i mean, honestly, who wouldn’t??)

And he’s asking lwj to stay for dinner!!

Wwx: a-yuan come here. Lan zhan has his own food at home. He won’t be eating with us here.

A-yuan: but i heard a secret! I heard there was going to be lots of tasty food today!

Wwx scolds a-yuan for half a second before turning to look at lwj WITH THE MOST HOPEFUL EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE

HE WANTS LAN ZHAN TO STAY FOREVER FOR DINNER TOO

But for some unfathomable reason lwj looks at a-yuan and says that he is leaving.

WHY

YOU WANT TO STAY THERE TOO

WHY MUST YOU TWO MAKE THINGS SO DIFFICULT FOR ME YOURSELVES

Wwx gives this stiff, sharp nod like, yeah, of course of course, i knew that, this doesn’t kill me inside AT ALL

Lwj walks off and wwx + a-yuan make their way towards the burial mounds

A-yuan: will the rich man ever visit us again?

Wwx: what rich man?

A-yuan: the one from just now!

Wwx yoinks the toy butterfly from a-yuan’s hand here

Wwx: you really like him that much, don’t you?

And he holds the toy out of reach and teases him

A-yuan: give it back! He bought that for me

Wwx: no! I won’t give it back until you say i’m your favorite

And this entire adorable scene is being watched by lwj who is just a ways away 

I’d say he’s lurking like a creeper, but Hanguang-jun is too honorable and handsome to be called a creeper by anyone ever. 

BUT he is lurking. 

He looks all solemn

A-yuan tells wwx what he wants to hear and gets his toy back.

Unfortunately wwx’s distraction tactic didn’t work

A-yuan: so will the rich man come back or not?

Wwx: probably not

A-yuan: Why??

Wwx: there’s no reason why. In this world, everyone has their own paths to walk.

A-yuan: oooh

Lol, he nods like yeah, i totally understand what you’re telling me bc i’m a big kid who can know things. HOW CUTE!

AND HERE WE GET THAT QUOTE. THAT IMPORTANT ONE. THE ONE THAT IS LATER USED AS A PUBLIC LOVE CONFESSION.

Wwx: who needs the crowded, broad avenue? I’ll stick to my single-log bridge until it’s dark.

Lwj is still here, watching. And he hears wwx say this.

Lwj doesn’t turn to walk away for real until wwx and a-yuan are out of sight

HE WANTED TO SEE THEM FOR AS LONG AS HE COULD

I’M TOTALLY NOT TORN UP ABOUT THIS

I’M CHILL AND COLLECTED FOR REAL

Then we cut to wwx arriving back at the demon-subdue palace where there’s a surprise dinner party!! 

AND A-YUAN GETS SO ADORABLY EXCITED OVER THE ABUNDANCE OF FOOD, I LOVE IT SO MUCH i get excited about food too, a-yuan!!

This whole thing here is very sweet and this is when we really see wwx accept the wens as his family rather than as his moral obligation

As the @theuntamednarrator said, they gave him homemade liquor! That’s the one guaranteed way to our sunshine boy’s heart!!

It’s all super sweet, like i said, until wwx gets himself plastered. Then it takes a turn towards the Hella Depressing. 

I really want to skip over it because it really is HELLA DEPRESSING AND STILL MAKES ME LEGIT CRY ACTUAL TEARS EVERY TIME I WATCH IT 

but i can’t because it’s got some wangxiantics and this is a wangxiantics guide

So everyone at the dinner party drinks until they pass out, basically. 

Except for wen qing, who is completely sober, and wwx who is an alcoholic with an inhumanly high tolerance apparently

He’s all flushed and red-eyed tho

Wwx: wen qing, the first time i saw Lan Zhan was when i snuck Emperor’s Smile into the Cloud Recesses

He laughs here, remembering; it’s all cute here for a bit.

Wwx: it’s too bad you didn’t see his face, his stony face...but the emperor’s smile is really good. I wonder if i’ll ever get a chance to drink it again

And his entire demeanor changes here. He started out more or less cheerfully reminiscing about his first meeting with lwj but in that last bit his whole posture droops and he gets the saddest look on his face

Wen qing notices this, but is kind enough to pretend not to by focusing on wiping down that table.

Wwx: i’m a good for nothing

OH GOD

Wwx: i promised my sister i would help her hold the most splendid wedding in the world

FUCK, HERE COME MY TEARS

And wen qing fucking freezes here eVEN SHE KNOWS THIS IS GONNA HURT

Wwx: but now, i can’t even attend the wedding

Wwx: i’m completely useless, i am completely useless

SHIT, GOD DAMN IT, I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO CRY WHERE ARE THE GOD DAMN TISSUES 

Wwx: i am completely useless

HAVE MERCY, HAVE MERCY ON MY POOR HEART, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

So while i’m fucking sobbing out every ounce of moisture in my body, we cut to the cloud recesses and we see lwj kneeling in front of a set of closed doors

(we’re not going to dwell too long on that because i’m already in fucking shambles from two seconds ago and i can’t handle any more Family-Related Sadness right now)

He’s on his knees, with his arms outstretched holding two long, heavy bamboo sticks

There are disciples scurrying around and avoiding the scene, like oh shit, better not get in the middle of that

Lwj’s head is ever so slightly bowed, still as a statue, and completely blankfaced

And we get ~their song~ BUT WITH VOCALS THIS TIME

THE FIRST TIME WE HEAR THE VOCALS WITHIN THE SHOW

YOU KNOW

THE VOCALS THAT ARE SUNG BY THE ACTORS PLAYING OUR BELOVED LWJ AND WWX???

YEAH

THOSE VOCALS

BECAUSE I WASN’T FEELING ENOUGH INTENSE EMOTION YET

The scene starts off in the daylight and we see him enduring this punishment 

HOURS go by bc it’s dark and there’s a good inch of snow accumulated around him by the time some random lan cultivator dismisses him

Lwj gets up GRACEFULLY (bc that is his default mode, i guess?? HOW??) and there’s a literal patch on the ground completely devoid of snow bc that’s how long and still he kneeled there for, holy shit.

And he walks away calmly

There’s no more wangxiantics in this episode

But show-runners decided they didn’t want to COMPLETELY DESTROY OUR SOULS just yet so they give us an anticlimactic but kind of cute ending to the episode 

We get to see that there are “yiling patriarch disciples” who are actually frauds in terrible cosplay trying to sell mediocre talismans at high prices

and wwx is all “who the heck are these guys, wait, i don’t actually care”

We get to see that the wens are slowly starting to prosper in their little corner of the burial mounds

Also, somebody built a shrine and left food offerings at the entrance to the burial mounds?? Which, hey, wwx doesn’t say no to free food and neither do i because what kind of crazy person turns down free food??

And, i mean, that’s basically it?? Like i said super anticlimactic

SO WHO ELSE HERE IS SITTING IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS NOW? ANYBODY?? ANYBODY???? PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME CRYING BY MYSELF, THAT WOULD BE PATHETIC, I CAN’T HELP IT IF I HAVE A HEART FULL OF FEELINGS

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