#me forgetting that taxes and work and school and eating are all things you just have to keep doing forever

[mirai-e-jump]

+act Magazine January 2024 Issue ft. Hirakawa Yuzuki Interview (translation below)

Publication: December 12, 2023

Hirakawa Yuzuki plays the immovable Rita Kaniska (PapillonOhger) in the Super Sentai series "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger." In her first appearance in this magazine, she says that while her first priority is to complete this role, there are also things she wants to accomplish next.

"When did you first become interested in acting?"

Hirakawa: It wasn't until I joined my agency that I first became interested. Until then, I was attending a business high school in Kumamoto, my hometown, and wanted to become either a tax accountant or a certified public accountant in the future. Around that time, I learned about the "LDH Presents THE GIRLS AUDITION" and I told my parents, "I should enter like it's a commemorative entrance exam.*" I won the Grand Prix in the vocal and dance category, not the acting category. However, it wasn't until I joined the agency that I tried singing, dancing and acting genuinely. So, it was abit embarrassing being told that I was the Grand Prix winner in the vocal and dance category. (*exams taken for schools you have little to no chance of getting into)

"Your first performance was in a stage play."

Hirakawa: It was in "Moryo no Hako" starring Tachibana Kenchi-san. The play was set where the curtains rise on a scene between me and another girl, and I was so nervous that it caused my stomach to hurt every day. Once I said a few words on stage, I was okay, but until then…I guess that once I got on stage, I felt like I had no choice. But, until I was offstage, my heart would be pounding like crazy.

"Did the fact that it was your first time on stage, and your first performance, have a big impact on you?"

Hirakawa: I always thought that if I broke the tempo of the play in the first scene, things would become out of sync. Even during rehearsals I was told, "The beginning is important. It determines the quality of the performance." That's kind of scary. It's a big responsibility. But, I think they trained me well on that stage.

"What did you find interesting about the stage?"

Hirakawa: I always took lessons with two or three people at most, so more than anything, I enjoyed creating a production together with many people. I also thought it was fun to be with my dependable and kind seniors all the way through the rehearsal period, and that they started to feel like friends.

"Were there any memorable words that were said to you during rehearsals for the play or on the stage itself?"

Hirakawa: They'd say "Just try things out for now." I think I tend to worry about what other people think of me. If I think that I have to do something, I focus on only that. Still, I was told, "Just give it your all for now. It'll be easy to control things from there." This is often said on the set of the Sentai series that I'm currently performing in.

"Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger, right?"

Hirakawa: Their keyword is "Immovable," and I do what I can within that context and to "just give things a try." If I really deviate from the character, the Director will get me back on track.

"Have you seen any other Sentai productions?"

Hirakawa: When I was little, I watched "Tom and Jerry." I haven't really watched the previous series. In middle and high school, I was either doing practice lessons, club activities, eating meals, or sleeping (laughs).

"What kind of programs do you currently watch?"

Hirakawa: Since I started working, because I have alot to learn, I've been watching various things. I've only been alive for 22 years, so there are many things that I don't know. I'm learning about these experiences as I watch these works. What have I been watching…I really can't remember (laughs).

"(laughs). How do you remember your lines?"

Hirakawa: One of my strong points is memorizing things, but I'm the type of person who (intentionally) forgets them immediately (laughs). When they say, "We're done filming this scene," I instantly forget about it. So, I don't really remember much. Recently however, at the recommendation of a co star in King-Ohger, I watched the entirety of "Heaven and Hell: 2 Psychos," starring Ayase Haruka-san.

"Were you interested in Ayase-san and Takahashi Issei-san's personality changing performances?"

Hirakawa: It was interesting to see how the two of them came to know each other through swapping bodies. I also experienced performing a body swap in King-Ohger. Before we filmed it, it was recommended to me with, "This show, it's got body swapping," so I learned alot from it.

"For Rita, did they have the keyword "Immovable" from the beginning?"

Hirakawa: Since my role is that of the International Chief Judge, the words "always neutral" were there from the audition stage. When I was reading the script before filming started, the Director said to me, "Rita is Immovable. That's it." It doesn't mean that they shouldn't move, but that they're unwavering. I was also told, "There may not be much movement, but it holds various meanings. Please be extremely immovable this year." That's why even now, I'm looking for things I can do within being "immovable."

"What did you do at the audition?"

Hirakawa: It was an audition for two roles, the yellow Hymeno Ran, and Rita, who I'm playing. I played both roles in the first round, but when I entered the second round, in terms of her character, I thought, "I'm definitely not Hymeno." From there, I went after Rita.

"Did you feel any similarity between Rita and yourself?"

Hirakawa: I thought I could create something close to the calm and dignified feeling of the character. I'm also pretty tall (166 cm, 5'5"), so I thought that the darker color would also suit me in terms of image. Actually, I had auditioned for the Sentai series and Kamen Rider series multiple times, but most of the roles I've gone for up until now have been for the heroine. So, I thought it wasn't really suited for it. But, with Rita I thought, "That's definitely me." I was pretty enthusiastic, thinking that if I missed out on Rita, I wouldn't get a role like this for about four or five years. And then, until I started working in this industry, I hated my voice.

"But it's an attractive voice, with a deep bassy tone."

Hirakawa: When I finished my first performance, many people said to me, "Your voice is really nice." Do the people around me see this voice as my weapon? Rita's words are very persuasive, or rather, have weight to them. I knew from the audition that I could use my voice in this role. However, since filming started in King-Ohger, I felt that my voice has become even lower. I was trying to make my voice sound deeper, but I ended up sounding lower than usual (laughs). I might be stuck with this low voice. Maybe it'll go back to normal once this role ends.

"What do you currently find interesting about performing?"

Hirakawa: Rita only keeps their left eye visible, right? However, there's a limit to what can be expressed with just the eyes. They're a character that doesn't move that much and doesn't laugh. Things like the inflection and intensity of my lines and how they're conveyed are different from how it's been in the past. Still, by experiencing this kind of role, I feel that the range of my expressions have expanded in slightly different directions. I think I'm lucky.

"What kind of roles would you like to play in the future?"

Hirakawa: In episode 38 of King-Ohger, I performed with my face showing, but I was embarrassed since it had been awhile. A year ago, I would've been able to do it normally, so first of all, I'd like to "reset" that (laughs). I don't have much of a funny role now, so I'd like to play more energetic roles. Also, I want to wear a uniform! I want to be in a school story. It doesn't matter if I'm a class president, a bully, or some kid with a depressed personality. I just want to wear a uniform (laughs). I definitely want to make that happen. But for now, my first priority is to finish King-Ohger. It's been a year, and I think the real battle afterwards will be letting go of Rita and returning to Hirakawa Yuzuki.

[light-miracles]

Please share some fav frelma moments or headcanons? The fandom is so quiet ahaha

Sure!

Canon from the books trilogy (spoilers duh) (shot out to my friend Clei for getting me the books)

1) When Daphne makes Velma accidentally admit she has a crush on Fred and her reaction is just 'Damn Velma I didn't know you were so traditional'

2) When they dance together in Shaggy's house in the second book

3) Fred shamelessly flirting by touching her hair at school and Velms' almost heart attack.

4) Really, Velma's pining in the books is delicious.

5) The almost kiss in the third book.

6) When Fred almost dies in that fire and Velma just starts to cry out of pure relief when she sees him alive

7) Fred telling the journalists next thing he's doing is asking 'the girl he likes' out when he leaves hospital.

8) Their last scene together at the end. Which lives rent free on my head. I even wrote a little continuation/expansion of that scene in a drabble.

(Overall, the books aren't perfect. The focus is Daphne and Velma's friendship and that means too little focus on Shaggy and Freddie. But it was absolutely worth it. It was like the best Frelma fanfic but actually canon in its verse. Clinging to those books forever)

Honorific mentions of other versions: the "DORKY CHICKS LIKE YOU TURN ME ON TOO" line in the live action (lmfao) (Linda Cardellini and Freddie Prinze's chemistry was awesome), Fred going all the way to show her he appreciates everything she does in Be Cool Scooby Doo, and their scenes together in The Mystery Begins. Also every moment they share the screen in 'Mystery Incorporated: Welcome to Coolsville'. That version of the characters was the best one in recent years.

..

Headcanons now:

1) Has anyone watched that animated short horror video parodying the totally awful Velma show? The one with eldritch monster Scooby? Yeah they're together the next time Scooby reboots reality. Both of them are aware of what's going on and try to scape the time loop (confusing if you don't know the story of the video 'Velma Meets The Original Velma' on YouTube, plz watch it)

2) Moving on to greener grasses, eventually they have twin boys, Ricky and Roger (named after Fred and Shaggy). Obviously Daphne and Shaggy are the godparents.

3) Shaggy let's them adopt 3 puppies from the Doo family years in the future.

4) Scrappy lived with them for some time. Velma was the only one who could boss him around. Fred spoiled him.

5) Velma sends him food to his work out of nowhere because sometimes she's sure he's forgotten to eat. He does the same plus flowers. Both of them are right: they forget to have dinner. Shaggy never shuts up about it.

6) (I usually go with Archeologist!Fred and Astronomer!Velms. They travel a lot) (The kids are homeschooled until they can leave for a boarding school)

7) Ricky and Roger are mama boys

8) Fred does the taxes. Velms always forgets.

9) Shaggy is a chef (duh) and Daphne a private detective and they're never too far away. Their kid is a little older than the twins but they hang out a lot. Sometimes Velma refers to Daphne as 'her sister' so the boys don't figure out Daphne isn't their 'actual aunt' until they're older.

10) Velma has a photo of him on her wallet. Fred is the little spoon.

[furorsopher]

people ask me

“what’s it like to be your flavour of mentally ill?”

my answer is right here! :D ⤵️

imagine dreaming. you sometimes can’t move and you don’t know why and you can’t run away from it because of course, that’s how nightmares work. and if you ever reach a point of safety away from it, you feel accomplished and full of energy again, and then everything crumbles and you have to run again but it’s a different nightmare and still the fatigue only grows and the feeling of running away doesn’t change. but you never see the it, you don’t hear it, you can’t tell anybody about it because your mouth won’t move and words are something foreign to your tongue and fingers.

and sometimes you just have a dream midway through and your head hurts because there’s something you forgot and you just can’t remember and everybody’s off and weird around you, but finally everything’s looking up!

then suddenly you’re back in the nightmare running away from something again and again. and everything hurts but you can’t explain why because how do you explain the concept of a nightmare to a dream? it doesn’t know the sheer terror of its other half, it only sees it as a dream like itself and feels offended when you suggest the thing it sees itself in is hurting you.

and while all of this is happening you’re fully aware of everything and you want to scream at yourself that you’re smarter than this, and you want to scream at everybody else that they’re buffoons for not believing that the concept of a nightmare exists.

imagine being in a dream and not remembering that nightmares exist but it’s all so absurd that there isn’t even a clear distinction of them anymore, and when you can’t keep the balance it all comes crashing down on you.

imagine that, but it’s your actual real life. you can’t escape it because people refuse to accept your absurdity is fundamentally different from your own. and when you do what they say to do - get help from professionals in absurdity - they say your absurdity isn’t abstract enough to require help or that your absurdity isn’t definable so there’s no way to help you.

imagine that, and try to live a normal life, going to school, going to work, eating, sleeping, talking, all while not being able to escape something looming over you, that you can’t explain and can’t see or face because it doesn’t exist. and when your tongue finally finds its way around speaking your people refuse to believe it’s been really fucking taxing to constantly have to balance a completely absurd mental and physical state with the course of a normal and orderly life.

imagine that really hard. forgetting things constantly, your head hurting and numb simultaneously, your joints cracking and aching under weight they forgot they carry everyday, feeling your organs moving around under your skin, your body wanting to run away but being too tired to even really think about it. your skin being itchy and too tight and too loose and wrong. the bliss of ignorance and the pain of never trying hard enough despite wanting to. really only being able to think and talk about one thing or two specific things ever, because everything else makes you want to hit something or somebody. loosing your person and realising you were nothing to begin with.

the worst part is: there’s nobody to blame but yourself.

“that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“omg so me! i also zone out a lot… wait no i dissociate im so different”

“but what if you went to the gym?”

“ever think about eating healthier and drinking more water?”

“you were such a great student when you were a kid! so far ahead of your peers!… but not in an important way, actually you were just normal and average and forget i said you were different from the start in any way shape or form!”

“you always seemed fine, so i don’t think it’s actually that serious”

“you’re just saying that!”

“everybody feels that way”

*sigh*

[ilikepjo24]

On the subject of "I want to be treated like an adult"

Kids often say that, don't they? That they want to be treated as adults. And patents often think that by that they mean they want more freedoms. They want to control their own bedtime, they want to drink alcohol on family events, like grown ups do, they want to drive around so they can control where they go and when. They want to vote because they think they understand politics and while they are intelligent enough to understand the basics, the complexity of politics is not something they fully grasp yet. They want to have adult money that they spend on toys or merch of some type.

Right?

Wrong.

Because that's not what they mean.

But I'll get to that later.

First, I want to talk about the reactions they get from their parents when they say stuff like that. Parents falsely assume that their children mean it in an "obnoxious", "entitled" and "demanding" way which results to them perceiving the request as disrespectful, and they chastise their children. They go on and on about how being an adult is not sunshine and rainbows. "Oh? So you want to go to work every day to get paid minimum wage? You want to start paying the bills around here? You wanna do our taxes this year maybe?"

In an attempt to terrorize their children and crush their "rebellious" instincts, parents make adulthood out to be hell. And I'm not gonna lie, it sucks sometimes. But you cannot control your child through fear. And lashing out at them in order to scare them into submission is emotionally immature and if you do that to your kids no rational person out there will respect you and you should start slicing vertically instead of horizontally.

A child does not have the mental capacity to understand that adulthood isn't the boogyman under their bed. The only thing this treatment will achieve is making them anxious about the future and as teenagers they'll be depressed and have existential crisis like it's dinner. Plus, that's not even what they mean.

Fucking toddlers don't know about taxes! This isn't their version of adulthood at all. By saying "I want to be treated like an adult" they don't mean they want to be reduced to a stressed out, pathetic ball of sadness. They simply want to be treated with respect. Basic human fucking decency.

From a very young age children are being conditioned to behave from both their parents and school/daycare. But the double standards are insane!

They are taught to not interrupt grown ups because it's backtalking. And yet adults interrupt them all the time.

They are taught to be quiet, not to yell, and use their indoor voice, because that's proper. And yet their parents yell at them when they make a mistake.

They are taught to do what adults command. To listen. To bend over backwards to please the grown ups. "Don't touch that", "Look at me when I'm talking to you", "Don't distract me right now, I'm busy", which is basically just adults setting boundaries (in very rude and disrespectful ways, but still).

And yet when children set boundaries ("I don't want you to put my hair on a ponytail today", "I don't like that shirt, I don't want to wear it", "I'm full, I don't want to eat the rest of my food") they are being ignored. Their boundaries are being crossed. Or worse, in done cases they get scolded, yelled at and punished for attempting to set boundaries, like adults do.

But what adults tend to forget is that not being interrupted, not being yelled at and not having your boundaries crossed is not an "adult privilege", it's basic fucking human goddamn decency. And it is how you should treat everyone, including (if not especially!) your children. And that's what they mean when they say "I want to be treated like an adult". They want you to extend to them the same amount of dignity and respect that they extend to you. They want you to lead by example.

Which is very fucking normal! It's not a bizarre request! They didn't ask for a pet unicorn, they asked to be treated like a human! And you know why is that?! Because they are human! I genuinely believe some parents forget that their kid is as much of an actual person as they are, and deserves to be treated with decency just as much as they are.

And maybe they don't know how to word it properly yet. Maybe they don't understand the seperation between basic respect and adulthood. Maybe they think that to be treated with respect they must be an adult. And that's a failure on your part. I'm talking directly to you, parent reading this. If your children has to ask you to treat them with respect, instead of you having the decency to treat them like a person since they day they were born, you are a miserable, pathetic failure of a parent that forgot their child is a human, has human needs and MUST be treated like a human.

But you, miserable, pathetic failure of a parent, are not beyond redemption. All you have to do to patch up the situation is not to lash out at your child when they ask to be treated like an adult. You have to do what they ask you to do. And also explain to them the difference between being worthy of basic fucking human decency and being an adult, because those things do not go hand in hand. One happens with time and the other must be granted since day one. And hey, maybe if you're feeling emotionally mature and your ego is not that fragile, you could even go as far as apologizing to them for forcing them to ask for something you should have given them already. You are an adult, aren't you? Put on your big boy pants and hold yourself accountable.

Thus proven.

[learningtosmelltheroses]

6 years is amazing, I've been trying but I'm picky and lazy to cook different vegie options that's not just pasta, chips and pizza so I always fail and end up eating meat options, it's better than not just eating 😅, I feel like Z has also said that about being a vegetarian that doesn't eat veggies, but at least Z is in a tax bracket where she can afford take out 7 days a week. I think next time I attempt being vegetarian I have to do research and collect recipes, probably also meal prep ahead so I don't feel lazy after work, but wow 6 years is goals well done to you.

This is gonna be a long answer because I LOVE to talk about this topic (so if you want to talk about it in my dms we totally can!!!)

So here's my story to become a veggie!

I graduated as an IT Developer alongside my high school degree (idk if that's common in other countries, but here we have that a lot) and as my final project I had to develop an Android App and I did one to help people become vegetarians!!

So I had to do a scientific research to prove that my app was good so I did a lot of research about nutrition and what vegetarians lack the most after changing their diet. And reading all about the better health, the environment and most importantly the animals... how could I still eat meat? This project was during a whole year so I was understanding things while I wrote my research and then one day my mom was cooking, and she was seasoning a piece of meat and I was looking at that for 5minutes realizing that that was a dead animal (crazy how we normalize this in a point most people forget) and I was so disgusted I never ate meat again.

But I started slow, I kept eating chicken for 7 months after stopping every other type of meat. And then I stopped that too. And that's how I became a vegetarian.

And I never felt the need to meat eat again.

I wasn't a fan of veggies too, so I had to adapt. It is a big change in your life and I gained so much weight after I started because there were so few vegetarian options in restaurants and usually were pasta or other carbs 😂

So I started to look at recipes that were more healthy, started going to a nutritionist so she could help me plan my diet and how I could learn to like vegetables. At first I would roast a lot of veggies and then smash them together and make like a smashed potato but with a lot of veggies (carrots, zucchini, onions, potatoes, broccoli...) 😂😂 ps: I also don't like cooking and I am too lazy to do it everyday.

And I don't make my friends or my fiancé to not eat meat because I think that's a very personal decision.

My best friend tried being a vegetarian and it lasted a whole year and she felt so guilty because she missed eating meat. So when she came to talk to me I told her it was ok but the way she could "help" was eating less, or not eating everyday.

So take your time. Start cutting meat everyday. Look up for vegetarian options that look delicious to you and with time, you will be able to change that completely. But a very important point in the process of doing this: do your health check ups because not eating meat influences in how your body absorbs nutrients and vitamins and you most likely will be with a deficiency of vitamin D and B12 😔

It's being 8 years for me now and I don't regret one bit! 💚

Sorry for the long answer (but I did warn you)

[mystical-flute]

Take My Hand and Whisper Run Chapter 3: Uncomfortable Reunions

Also on AO3 || Buy me a Ko-Fi

To Emma’s great surprise, she’d actually managed to fall asleep early, and stay asleep for most of the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she did that, in Neverland or in general.

The beep of the alarm clock was also surprisingly comforting to her, even if she normally couldn’t stand hearing them. But it was a firm reminder that she was home, back in a world where things actually made sense… for the most part. Apparently Baelfire was from a fairy tale land that really existed.

That thought still made her head spin, as she changed back into her jeans and t-shirt, and made a mental note to go shopping. She swore she’d seen a thrift store in town. Hopefully they had cheap clothes that would fit, because she really didn’t want to be stuck wearing the same clothes over and over again.

What she didn’t expect when she got downstairs after teaching Baelfire and Tink how showers worked, was seeing Granny and Ruby standing outside, staring at the clock tower in the center of town.

“Um… good morning Granny, Ruby… is everything okay?” she asked with a frown. They looked like they’d seen a ghost, honestly.

“Oh! I’m sorry dear, I guess I lost track of time,” Granny said, snapping out of her own thoughts and looking at Emma. “Everyone’s just a little confused about the clocktower, that’s all. The clock hasn’t worked as long as I can remember, and now it’s finally showing the right time.”

Emma followed their gazes and looked at the clock, which was now showing the correct time. “Huh…” she remarked. “Maybe one of the maintenance guys for the town did it. I’m sure they get bored when there aren’t any calls to answer.”

“I don’t know why they’d pick now of all times to fix it. It hasn’t worked my whole life,” Ruby said, then sighed. “At least it gives us something to talk about instead of the same old boring sh - stuff.”

Granny shook her head. “Well, whatever the case is, we won’t figure it out standing here. Let’s open up the diner for the day. Where are you friends, Emma?”

“They were getting dressed last I checked. They should be down soon.” Hopefully. Providing neither of them flooded the bathroom.

And that would raise a whole other set of issues.

“Sorry you’ll probably be bored for the first hour or so in terms of not having any dishes to wash,” Ruby said with a small frown. “Though, I guess you’ll have to eat, so you’ll be able to start with your own until the customers come in.”

Emma laughed. “It’s fine, Ruby, really! I’m just grateful you and Granny took us in at all. I was worried we’d be out on the streets or something.”

“Storybrooke wouldn’t have let that happen. Though you’re lucky you ran into us instead of Mr. Gold or the mayor,” Ruby said with a shudder.

“Ruby, hush, she’s right there,” Granny hissed, nodding in the direction of a woman wearing a black trench coat, high heels, and a deep red lipstick. There was an air about her that said she felt she was better than the others in town, and Emma was immediately put off by it.

“Come on. Inside,” Ruby muttered, all but shoving Emma into the diner. “I swear that woman is hiding something.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “She’s a politician. It’s probably tax fraud or a sex scandal.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be talking about sex scandals?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Am I?” She hardly knew what normal teenagers went through, after all, but even the terrible school she’d been to before going to Neverland had at least started talking about condoms. It was hard to forget a grown woman struggling to fit one on a banana, after all.

Ruby sighed. “Come on, what do you want for breakfast? I’ll make sure you and your friends are served first.”

Emma glanced over and smiled at Tink and Neal, relieved they’d managed to rinse the soap and shampoo out of their hair and skin. While she had hope for Neal, she hadn’t been sure how much Tink knew about personal hygiene. If she lived in a forest before Neverland… it couldn’t have been much, right?

“Alright, we’re not going to need three of you on dish duty right now, so are any of you good with plants?” Granny asked.

Tink’s hand shot up. “Oh! I am! I love plants! I grew up in a garden you know!”

Granny stared at her in confusion. “You… grew up in a garden?”

Emma cleared her throat. “What she means is… her parents owned a greenhouse, so she grew up around plants. She would help them every day with watering and fertilizing them and putting them on carts for the customers.”

“Oh,” Granny said with a relieved sigh. “Well if that’s the case, follow me, Rosetta.”

As Tink followed Granny back toward the bed and breakfast with a wide grin, Emma let out a sigh as she looked at Bae. “Did she seriously live in a garden?”

He shrugged. “That’s what the story says. Fairies live in a tulip pod chamber and are able to watch over us like, well, like a god does.”

Fairies lived in flowers. Sure. Of course they did. Why not?

“Okay you two, c’mon back to the kitchen,” Ruby said, ushering Emma and Bae around the counter. “I mean, it’s dishwashing, so I trust you know what you’re doing, but I promised Granny I’d tell you what to do.”

It was basic stuff, of course, and they worked out a system of who washed and who dried, stacking the clean dishes where they needed to go so the cooks could grab clean plates for the new orders.

“This isn’t so bad,” Bae murmured, wrist deep in soapy water. “Especially since we’re getting a place to stay too.”

“Yeah…”

“Hey Emma? Can you give me a hand, please?” Ruby called a bit later. “One of our waitresses called out and Granny’s busy at the register.”

“Oh - yeah, of course Ruby!” It wasn’t like she had any choice if she wanted to keep the roof over her head. Still, she felt a little nervous - she’d never waitressed before, and had always thought the trays looked too heavy to carry.

“Can you take this mug of cocoa to the woman in the pink sweater with short, black hair?” Ruby asked, pointing to the woman sitting at one of the two-person tables.

Emma nodded, relieved it was just one thing she needed to deliver and not a whole tray of food to a family of five.

“What’s that on the whipped cream?” Emma asked, looking at the brown flecks. Surely they couldn’t be -

“Cinnamon. Mary-Margaret’s the only one in town who drinks it that way. Just one of her quirks.”

Huh. Emma had never known another person who liked cinnamon on their hot chocolate. What were the odds she would run into someone who liked it here? Of all places, it was some little town in Maine that didn’t look big enough to be on any printed map?

“Um… here you go, Miss Blanchard,” she said, setting the mug in front of her carefully. “Is there anything else you need?”

When Mary-Margaret looked up at her and smiled, Emma felt a little startled. She had the same color eyes she did, and strangely, they shared a face shape. There was no way this woman was related to her, right? “No, thank you, I’m fine for now. But I don’t remember seeing you here before. Are you a new hire?”

She nodded. “I’m Emma. I just got to town.”

Mary-Margaret’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, well, I hope you enjoy your time here, Emma.”

Emma smiled weakly in return. “Yeah, thanks. Enjoy the hot chocolate. I put a little extra cinnamon on it when Ruby wasn’t looking. I always prefer extra on mine.”

“I won’t tell her, promise. I think you’re the only other person I’ve met who likes cinnamon on it.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, “me too.”

When Ruby called her away, Emma felt a strange, almost familiar pull toward Mary-Margaret as she turned away from the table.

Huh. Weird.

----

Tink hummed a mindless song under her breath. Thankfully, she recognized most of the flowers that were planted in and around the bed and breakfast garden. How strange to think that the Land Without Magic would have the same flora as The Enchanted Forest and even Neverland. Regardless, it made this gardening gig easy, which obviously meant Tink would be able to fit in here no problem! And to think, Emma had been so tense the previous night, like she was worried Tink and Bae would blow their cover or something. How silly!

Tink could have made it as a farmer, she thought. If Blue had granted her mercy when she’d taken her wings, she wouldn’t have minded having a little farm somewhere, living off the land and selling what she didn’t need, like a normal peasant in their realm.

Well, maybe she wouldn’t want to live in Regina’s kingdom after what had happened. If Regina had just listened, she would have been able to prove to Blue that humans could change, even if there was hate inside them.

There had been so many bad humans in Misthaven and all throughout their world, but nothing would compare to Pan.

Tink shuddered a little at the thought of Neverland as she cut a dandelion from the plant. Why Granny considered them to be weeds she would never know, but she was doing as she was told and getting rid of them… in her own way, by carefully placing them in her pocket to do something with later. She’d seen a few cups wrapped up in the bathroom of their room. Maybe they could spruce it up.

“Tink?”

Her head shot up, because no one in this town should know who she was, and came face to face with Regina, though instead of a dress fit for a queen, she was wearing some sort of suit like Bae had once told her about.

“Regina. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be living your royal life in Misthaven?” she asked coldly as she brushed dirt off her gloves and rose to her feet.

“Why would I want to go back to a world where Snow White is living happily ever after?” Regina replied. “So this is my happy ending. This is my world. My beautiful creation. You are not supposed to be here.”

Oh no. Regina had fully given into the darkness in her heart, hadn’t she? That was the only explanation. “I didn’t exactly get to choose where I ended up when I escaped from Hell.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got banished because a queen didn’t want to do the thing that would make her happy. I was stuck in Neverland until yesterday.”

“And this is my fault? The only thing I refused to do is go into that bar. It sounds like your boss was the one who sent you there in the first place,” Regina glared, her eyes dark with fury. “How did you even escape? I thought that place was impossible to leave.”

Tink smiled a little. “Pan was outsmarted by a couple of Lost Kids. They offered me my freedom and I took it.” Was that meant to be a dig at Regina? Maybe a small one.

Regina didn’t take the bait, her frown deepening. “Lost Kids that actually wanted to escape? Why would they want to do that?”

Tink shrugged. If Regina was in charge here, she did not want to risk getting Bae or Emma on her bad side on their second day here, when they didn’t even know who she was. “I don’t know. I guess they got tired of the constant hunting and wanted to remember what it was like to grow up and be… normal kids. Whatever that means here.”

Regina scoffed. “Why would that shadow leave you outside Storybrooke?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I was with them and I’m originally from the Enchanted Forest.” No sense in dragging Bae down with her. It would be better to let Regina believe both kids were from The Land Without Magic.

“Fine. I will allow you and your group to stay in Storybrooke, but if you get in the way of my happy ending, just know I will destroy you. Enjoy your stay in Storybrooke, Tinkerbell.”

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know what had happened to Regina after they’d last met, but she didn’t like it one bit. She would be damned if she let Regina hurt Emma or Bae though. “It’s Rosetta. I know I’m just a character in a book in this land, Regina.”

Regina gave her a smirk that sent a chill down her spine. “Right, well. Enjoy your time here, Rosetta.”

When she had gone, Tink took a deep breath. She didn’t know what had come over Regina after she was banished from Misthaven, but she knew she had to keep Emma and Bae safe from her no matter what.

The biggest question she had, though, was how Regina even got to Storybrooke in the first place. Storybrooke was hers? Did that mean other people from their world were here too?

Tink needed to find some answers, before her friends got hurt.

She just didn’t know how she was going to do that. So, Tink turned back to the flowers and began working on the weeds again.

-

Later that night, they sat in the lounge room of the bed and breakfast, Tink having scrubbed the dirt out from her hands and fingernails. It was nice, being able to relax and enjoy a long day’s end. Sometimes, when she’d had her magic, it had felt like days bled into each other, and Neverland of course didn’t help anything.

“Rosetta, will you tell me about Australia? What are koalas like? Are they really as soft as they look on TV? What about the bugs? Are they really that big?” Ruby asked, dropping onto the chair next to Tink. “And how did you end up all the way in Maine?”

Tink shrugged. “I came here because I was worried about my cousin. Couldn’t let her get into trouble while she’s still just a kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Emma protested.

Ruby grinned, apparently having forgotten her other questions. “You look like a kid to me.”

“I’m fourteen! That’s not a kid!”

“Ruby! You forgot to unpack a shipment of napkins!” Granny suddenly called, breaking the light atmosphere. “Five of the tables need the holders to be refilled too!”

“Coming, Granny!” Ruby groaned and rolled her eyes. “I was hoping she wouldn’t notice.”

“I can help you, Ruby,” Bae offered.

“Thanks kid,” Ruby said, shooting a grin in Emma’s direction as she rose to her feet. “The store room is this way.”

Tink let out a small sigh of relief. “Okay Emma, tell me, what’s Australia like?”

Emma blinked at her. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never been there. It’s on the other side of the planet!”

“Then what am I going to do when Ruby asks about it again?”

Emma took a deep breath and tapped her nail against her knee. “Okay, uh… Bae said he saw a library in town. It’s apparently under that giant clock tower. We can go there and learn about Australia.”

“Right… okay yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks Emma.”

“Emma?”

Tink looked up, startled as the male voice spoke. Standing in the doorway was a man leaning against a cane, a curious look on his face. For some reason, he felt familiar, like someone she’d met - or at least seen - before she got banished from the Enchanted Forest, but she just couldn’t place him.

Emma though, didn’t seem as amused or curious. “Yeah?”

The man grinned. “No, nothing. It’s just… what a lovely name.”

“Er… thanks,” Emma replied. “Who are you?”

Granny rushed forward with a wad of cash in her hand. “Here. It’s here. All of it.”

“Yes, yes, of course it is dearie,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he turned away from Tink and Emma to take the money, tucking it into his pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always.” He then glanced back over at Emma as he moved to the door. “You enjoy your stay, Emma.”

Emma shuddered when the door shut. “What the hell? Who was that?”

“Mr. Gold. He owns the place,” Granny said as Ruby entered the room.

“The inn?”

“No. The town,” Ruby finished, moving to the window and glancing out it. “He owns most of the buildings in town, and leases them out to others. Everyone likes to say Regina’s the most powerful person here, but they’re wrong. It’s Gold.”

“Is he that bad of a person?” Tink asked with a frown. If this Gold person held more power than Regina, maybe he could be on her side, if she could figure out who he was supposed to be.

“I heard the last time someone was late on their rent, he smashed their glass counter, so you tell me,” Ruby said, a hand on her hip.

“He’s not a man you want to make an enemy of,” Granny agreed. “Ruby, where’s Neal? I was going to have him help with checking the stock in the kitchen.”

Ruby shrugged. “He said he had a headache, so he went upstairs.  He took the back entrance so he didn’t disturb the conversation out here.”

“I’ll check on him,” Tink offered, jumping to her feet. This was suspicious. Maybe Bae knew more than he was willing to share with Ruby. “Emma, why don’t you help Granny with her stock?”

Emma blinked a little, but looked at Granny. “Is - is that okay with you, Granny?”

“Of course. I just can’t do it alone. Come on. And you, Ruby. I want you to finish the profit summary for the month.”

Ruby, who had been sneaking toward the side door in an attempt to leave, rolled her eyes. “Fine, but when I’m done I’m meeting Lacey for drinks.”

“Fine, fine.” It was obviously a battle long fought and seldom won.

Tink made her way upstairs and pushed the door to their room open. “Bae?” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

Bae was curled up on the bed, clutching one of the pillows tight and facing the window. When Tink approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched back. “I can’t stay here, Tink.”

“What? Why not?”

“My father’s here. I heard him talking to Granny when Ruby and I were getting the napkins,” he explained. “I don’t even understand how he would even get to the Land Without Magic. The magic bean Blue gave me was the last one.”

Tink was starting to understand why the shadow had chosen this place to drop them off at. Regina’s cryptic words, and now Bae’s father being here? But wait… if Regina thought this place was her happy ending, why would someone else supposedly hold more power? This man, Mr. Gold…

“What’s your father’s name, Bae?” she asked quietly.

But Bae just shook his head, shuddering. “I can’t say it. If I do, he’ll show up.”

Oh.

“Your father is The Dark One, isn’t he?”

Bae nodded. “You know the story. He became to suffocating and protective and then… dark, so I tried to get him to give up his magic. That’s why I ended up in London. He was supposed to go with me… but he broke our deal.”

Tink bit her lip. “That sounds awful, Bae. I’m sorry you went through that, but… I might have an idea of why he’s here, because I ran into someone I know from The Enchanted Forest too. The Queen of Misthaven.”

“Wait, what? But how?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be a way to find out.”

“My father always finds a loophole,” Bae said. “I can’t face him. I just can’t. I don’t care how long it's been.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

People from The Enchanted Forest were here for a reason, and Tink was determined to find out why.

[whyispotatoheadalreadytaken]

Response 1

Bourbon and Toulouse is fine. I feel like I’ve said this before so sorry if I’m repeating myself. I’ve said it so many times to so many people that I can’t remember who I’ve said it to. If I have to work more, it can’t be in mental health. It has to be a job I can walk away from that is super chill and straightforward. That’s the best part about BnT. I clock in, take orders, clean tables, and then clock out. Depending on whether I’m closing or not makes a difference in my responsibilities. I plan on working at BnT through the winter until Spring. There’s no way for me to keep a second job in the spring or summer because of the demand for music during that time. I’m not sacrificing music. I think I would rather eat ramen for four months if I had to. The nice part about gigs is that we usually get free food, so we can rely on those meals. The end goal of BnT is to get by…which is so sad because that isn’t really an end goal. It is to keep our heads above water and try to also save at the same time. I have some credit card debt from our last trip to Hawaii that I’m trying to pay off, so I don’t have to worry about paying on those and can just save. We will work mostly Fridays and Saturdays. I am also worried about burnout, but it is also not forever. If I could work 12-hour shifts 7 days a week for 6 months in a factory, I could do anything for a time. It hasn’t been an easy adjustment. My back has been so angry at the concrete floors. I was in so much pain after working the 12 hour shift on Friday, and I limped out of BnT, unable to drive home after being there for 6 hours. I curse Jill every time I experience lower back pain like that. Makes me wanna forward all of my chiropractic bills to her. We desperately need another car for so many reasons. We’re highly considering a tax ID for the band because we’re making money from it and could be claiming taxes. The sad thing would be that we would lose a portion of our income, but we could write off SO. MANY. THINGS. Like a car, for instance, because we need a better one to travel in that is reliable. I essentially kept our fingers crossed the last time we went to Paducah.

Yo, isn’t it crazy how normalized unpaid work is in America???? Like, you gotta learn how to do your job, and you gotta learn for free. All of my practicums during my senior year were unpaid positions. I’ll never forget having to do 19 credit hours, my practicum, working at the after-school program and guitar center on the weekends. If I can do that, I can also go to BnT for a few months, hahaha. It’s awful, though. Student teachers should be paid for that work. IT IS THE SAME WORK. I bitch about this alllllll the time hahaha Why on gods green earth do I make a third of what licensed clinical social workers make???? WE HAVE THE SAME JOB I JUST MEET WITH SOMEONE EVERY WEEK ABOUT IT UGGAHHHH. Sorry, just makes me scream internally every time I think about it. Sometimes externally.

Poor Zoë is only recently fully realizing how much she has sacrificed to personally attempt to keep the business afloat. For a long time, she was always like oh, it’s awesome 99% of the time when Karen isn’t in a mood. She’s now realizing that it’s been a lot more than 1% of the time, and the only reason Karen has had the business for so long is that she puts out all of the fires for herself. I dream about quitting and finding a new position. It’s hard, though, because I need to have at least 30 hours of clinical work, or my whole timeline gets all fucked up and dragged out even longer. I can’t even go back for my doctorate until I have my independent license, or I would already be back in school to prolong the student loans.

The music thing is so weird cuz I don’t wanna be famous. It would just be really nice to be successful and be able to maintain that as my sole income with something else I’m passionate about on the side, like advocacy work. I already attempt to do that through music anyway. Sustainability would be my dream. Traveling and playing music for people. The dream started when I started learning how to play guitar. One day, something just clicked inside me when I was learning how to play the live version of “I Hear Noises” by Tegan and Sara. It has three chords. That’s it. Just over and over, with a different rhythm for the chorus and a different chord for the bridge. Then I started learning the Mean Everything to Nothing by Manchester Orchestra from beginning to end. I thought it would be this crazy hard thing, and I was blown away by how simple it was, and that made no sense to me because it sounded complicated. I wrote a little bit about how Andy goes back and forth between his full band sound and his acoustic sound, and I became very enthralled by that concept. So, I started recording acoustic versions of various Tegan and Sara, Coldplay, and Snow Patrol songs on my brother's Macbook. And I was like, woah, I can do this with other people’s songs, so what is keeping me from writing my own??? Once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. Music always seemed too magical for me to be able to write my own, and then suddenly, I was creating magic. Getting to share that and receive positive responses just fueled the fire to keep going and see how far I get. Our geographical location is the biggest barrier to success in music. If you don’t do country or bluegrass in KY, no one really cares about you so it’s hard to break out. It’s all about making connections and networking. That was what Julien Baker told me when I met her. Make friends with everyone because you never know where those people will take you.

I feel like I’ve always dreamed of making a lasting change, which is why I wanted to be a therapist. If I can’t change the world, maybe I can change someone’s world? Maybe that will have a ripple effect? I think my depression and anxiety come down on me really hard when I feel like I’ve amounted to nothing. It took me so long to become a therapist, to begin with, and I’ve spent so much of my life just wishing I was dead. And I’m 30 now…unable to pay my bills…so stressed out and in survival mode for a lot of the time. I know I’ve made a positive difference in the lives of other people…at least, I hope I have. I just would have hoped I would be more successful than I am currently. Like, I never thought that life would be easy, but holy shit, why is it SO hard???? Surely it isn’t supposed to be this hard, right? I feel like our generation got handed the shittiest hand, and we’ve just been white knuckling through life since 9/11.

                  I am so glad that the thought of amounting to nothing isn’t something you’ve been worried about. I mean that too, that’s not sarcastic. Keeping it super simple is the way to go and the way to see it. If we’re doing something good with our lives and we are happy, that’s all we can do.

BROOOOOOO, I would have lost my absolute shit on that lifeguard if I had been there. YOU HAD ONE JOB. You literally had your baby in your arms like for the love of god HELP. That is so scary. Poor Rory was just being a kid not really knowing what he was getting himself into. I’m sure that was horrifying for you and also for him. I’m obviously so happy he’s alright.

My cousins came to visit for a summer when I was in 6th grade, and the youngest was such a brat. I could not handle her. I love my cousin who was my age. I got to see both of them the last time I was in Ireland. Lauren decided she didn’t care if she could swim; she was just gonna jump in the pool's deep end at the pavilion by the slide…which children are not supposed to be in any way because of the slide!!!!! She was something else, man, just defiant. Well, she jumped in and never came back up, and the lifeguard didn’t notice because he was watching the slide!!!!! And no one swims there!!!!! So, I jumped in after her and pulled her out of the water. So, when I was visiting, my Aunt Karen was like remember when Niamh saved you from drowning??? BRUH.

Praying Mantises are COOL, but they are aggressive, so you can’t get too close hahaha. There was one in the sensory garden last year that was longer than a pencil. That was horrifying, hahaha. They are awesome to have in your garden, though, because they kill caterpillars!!!!!

Bro Aiden and his croc charms for trump. Will literally never understand how people can still support that dude. Like, okay, republicans, be republican but why this guy???? I’m glad that he is kind to the babies. That is very nice and preferred.

Tabby is my new daddy 😭 broooooo. Is John doing any better now? Do those comments not bother him or motivate him to self-reflect on why his son would say things like that? Kids pick up on whether or not adults pay attention to them, especially their parents. I hope he can figure it all out. I have all the empathy in the world for struggles with mental health, but like he can do something about that.

The fact that kids will fight naps is so crazy to me. Like my brother in Christ, what I would give to go beddy-bye hahaha. Those toddler years are hard; learning how to process and communicate big emotions is hard for little people. Your parenting is solid. It takes a lot of practice for kids to regulate their emotions, but it eventually clicks for them. Having a supportive parent who can teach and model them those things is so important and so good on you, momma. I love that he’s telling those things to you. Has he gotten better about not being picked up when your back is in shambles? I remember you mentioning that he struggled with that and understanding why you couldn’t pick him up.

I can’t believe Jonah is gonna be one soon. That is so insane. I know he is an October baby, but I was unsure if he was the 13th or the 14th?

[lastoneout]

See I kinda get where this is coming from in some regards, but the inclusion of ADHD amongst the ways people are apparently "self-infantilizing" with the use of "therapy/social justice language" makes me hesitant to take anything else it's saying seriously.

It's kinda funny to see this author, at the end of the article, claim to care about disabled rights while repeating some absurdly ableist stereotypes and talking points? There is a long history of able-bodied neurotypical society infantilizing people with disabilities, and this article points that out, but STILL not only repeats that by implying that people with ADHD are idk, what? Lying? Making excuses for ourselves? Because babies have object permanence so surely we couldn't possibly actually struggle with something like that, but goes so far as to insinuate that said societal infantilization is OUR OWN FAULT somehow and/or we're weak for complaining about our symptoms.

ADHD is a disability. Literally, it is a medical condition that severely impairs one's ability to function from day to day up to the point of literally ruining lives. And one of the most common ADHD symptoms is memory problems. And it's not just "forgetting to text our friends back", though trust me that happens, it's forgetting to pay rent, forgetting to turn the stove off, losing very important things we need for work or school, not locking our door when we leave, fucking up our taxes, missing doctors appointments and medication refills, it is not "uwu I'm a child who can't remember stuff oops" it's "oh fuck the water got shut off because I forgot where I put my mail" and "I lost my job because I forgot which day my shift was for the tenth time".

And imo there's a pretty big difference between that and not having object permanence?? I mean I know people often describe ADHD memory problems as akin to a loss of object permanence but people with ADHD aren't babies. We understand that things exist when we can't see them in a way that infants don't, we just struggle to remember things if we can't see them. Like I know that my birth certificate exists, I just cannot fucking remember where it is right now. That's why it helps to take our cabinet doors off or make magnets for our fridges so we can SEE what we have to eat. Making more of our belongings visible is a legitimate way to manage our symptoms.

Tbh it's incredibly cruel to insinuate that people with ADHD are lazy or making excuses for themselves or literally stupider than a baby because of their medical condition. People with ADHD go our entire lives being told we're faking or we could remember things if we just tried harder and since we didn't we must not care and that we're lazy and stupid, there's no goddamn reason to repeat those ableist lies and pretend they're a hot take. A disabled person struggling with their medical condition is not inherently immature. Disabled people are not immature. We are adults. We have been BEGGING for YEARS to be treated like adults and it is NOT our fault that society continues to deny us that BASIC courtesy.

(And like again at the end of the article the author SAYS AS MUCH but like?? But they keep looping back around to claiming it's still our fault?? Like please explain to me how people with ADHD and disabled people giving into our own oppressors by *checks notes* talking about the very real and debilitating symptoms of our medical conditions?? This whole thing is coming so close to making a solid point but keeps switching its blame to things that are confusing at best and literally ableist at worst. I mean hell, they say being an adult is about being kind and taking care of yourself while using a common ADHD symptom as an example of a person not acting like an adult so like, are you also saying we can't be kind or take care of ourselves unless we overcome our disability?)

And that all brings us to the main problem with this article. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, so I could believe the author just included ADHD on a whim, or didn't mean to imply all of this, but that means they weren't thinking all that hard about what including ADHD actually MEANT or how it twisted their argument, and that makes me wonder how much they were thinking about anything else they wrote. You aboslutely need to consider what you're saying when it comes to topics like this, especially if you are later going to say you care about disability rights, and because this author didn't do that they ended up repeating a lot of ableist bullshit, intentionally or not.

As for the argument that this article really is too "simple" to get into detail about something as complex as disability and ableism, well, then it just shouldn't talk about ADHD at all. One of these things is not like the other, and if they aren't going to give it the care and consideration it deserves then they should leave these topics to the people who will.

This was an interesting article to read. I think it's a little simple but still fun to skim thru.

[storiesforallfandoms]

you’re my best friend ~ pete davidson

word count: 2002

request?: yes!

“pete friends to lovers”

description: in which two best friends get super sappy while drunk

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol and weed usage

masterlist (one, two)

You were already two glasses of wine deep when Pete showed up, two cases of beer in his hands. He had a look of excitement on his face, which slowly fell when he realized there was no one else in your apartment.

“Everyone else cancelled,” you answered his unasked question.

“Everyone?” Pete asked.

You nodded. “Prior commitments or just not wanting to come or some shit.”

Pete came over and plopped himself down on the couch next to you. The case of beer was at his feet and he popped it open, taking out a bottle and immediately chugging it. You looked at him in amusement as he did so. Once he was finished, you asked, “Aren’t they warm?”

“Room temperature,” he corrected.

“Isn’t that gross?”

“A little, but obviously I have to catch up with you so we can be on even playing fields all night.”

You smiled and poured yourself another glass of wine as Pete opened another beer and started to drink again.

Between the heavy amounts of alcohol and the joint that Pete had brought, the two of you had gotten fucked up in no time. At some point you couldn’t even get up off the couch for more drinks, or for water that you both knew you should be drinking. The hangover you were going to have the next day was going to be killer, but in the moment neither one of you really cared.

You were both laid back on the couch, legs intertwined as you laughed at something Pete had said. It probably wasn’t even that funny, but in your inebriated state, everything was hilarious.

“You’re, like, my bestest friend, Pete,” you slurred. “No one else even bothered the show up, but you did!”

“I’m sure everyone else had like...stuff happening,” Pete said. “Adult things like...I don’t know...kids and taxes.”

You retched at the thought. “Yeah, no, I’m good with not having those adult things to do. Having kids, while extremely cute, is also extremely exhausting. But I don’t think anyone would’ve shown. No one else really...hangs out with me anymore.”

You laid your head back so you were looking at the ceiling. You could feel a lump growing in your throat and didn’t want Pete to see if you started crying. You knew this sudden emotion was most likely caused by the alcohol and the weed, but you also knew it was something genuine, a concern you had deep down that you had never voiced to anyone before.

You could hear Pete move to sit up and immediately turned your head away so he couldn’t see your face, even though you knew that looked more suspicious than anything.

“Everyone is busy, (Y/N),” he said, his voice soft. “I’m sure they’ll be able to hang out soon enough.”

“They’re not too busy to miss out on work get togethers, or going out with one another.” You sighed. “I know people grow apart and that’s just what happens when you grow up, I just didn’t think it was going to be all of my friends growing up and drifting apart all at the one time.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

You giggled and sat up. The room spun around you as you did so and it felt like your stomach lurched. You had to take a moment to steady yourself before focusing your attention on Pete.

“I told you, you’re my bestest friend,” you said.

Pete’s smile slowly faded as he looked at you. “(Y/N), don’t cry please.”

You had forgotten about your emotional moment entirely. You wiped your cheek to find a wet streak running from your eye to your chin. You looked away from Pete again, suddenly feeling ashamed by your needless emotions. You were glad that the two of you were so drunk in that moment and would likely forget all of this the next day.

Pete’s hand lightly touched your chin, lifting it so that you were looking at him again. You looked into his eyes as he used his thumb to wipe the tears from your other cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized how closely the two of you were sat together.

“I’ll always be here,” he assured you. “No matter how much we grow up or grow apart, I’ll always be one phone call away.”

You nodded, unable to get the words to unstick from your throat. You believed him, you knew he’d always be here.

The smell of beer and weed was strong as Pete leaned forward more, and normally you’d hate the smell combination. But you were too distracted by Pete’s eyes to notice, and a moment later you were too distracted by his lips on yours.

You had never viewed Pete as anything more than a friend before. You had grown up together. You were partners in crime since the first day you met in middle school. Your friends, and even your family, often made jokes that the two of you would end up together, but you both laughed it off. You were best friends, two peas in a pod, nothing more.

But now, with his lips moving against yours and his arms pulling you as close to him as you could get, you weren’t so sure. It could’ve been the drunken state the two of you were in, mixed with the emotions you were feeling just moments before. When the two of you sobered up the next day you may have not even remembered what happened, but in the moment you wanted all of him. You wanted his lips, his hands, his body, his heart, and you wanted to give him all of you in return.

His tongue brushed against your lips and you gladly let it in. It was wet and tasted like beer, so not the most romantic thing in the world, but it felt good in the moment. You felt like nothing could ruin what was happening, until your stomach lurched again.

You quickly pulled away from Pete and rushed to the bathroom. You didn’t even have time to kick the door closed behind you before you collapsed next to the toilet and threw up everything you had eaten and drank the past few hours. Pete followed closely behind you, pulling your hair back and gently rubbing your back. When you stopped throwing up for long enough, he got up to get you some water and made you drink it all before he did anything else.

“I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser,” he joked. You glared at him over your shoulder before throwing up again.

Once you felt steady enough, Pete helped you to your feet. You brushed your teeth and took a mouthful of mouthwash in order to get rid of the taste of vomit. Pete helped you to your bedroom, where he had another glass of water and an Aspirin waiting for you.

“You’ll need that in the morning,” he said. “I’ll let you get changed.”

“You’ll stay with me though, right?” you asked. Suddenly you hated the thought of Pete having to leave.

He smiled. “Of course I will. I just want to give you some privacy while you change. You’re not supposed to see a girl naked till, like, the third date.”

You smiled back at him, a fuzzy feeling building inside of you at the thought of actually going on a date with Pete.

You changed into a pair of comfy pajamas and downed the glass of water Pete had left for you. You ventured out of your room to the kitchen to pour up another glass. You found Pete putting the bottles of beer in the recycling container and putting your glass in the sink.

“Why aren’t you as fucked up as I am right now?” you questioned.

“I could always handle my booze better than you,” he teased. You scowled and stuck your tongue out at him. He chuckled and put an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

After some convincing, Pete agreed to join you in bed. At first he laid a respectable distance away from you, but you moved close to him and placed your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, running his hands through your hair as your eyes became too heavy to stay open.

“You’ll regret this in the morning,” he murmured. “Or forget it completely.”

“Maybe,” you said, “but let’s wait for the morning to decide that.”

~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning you groaned in pain. Your head felt heavy and like it had been stabbed by multiple little needles. You opened your eyes but had to shut them again immediately, hissing at the pain that small action caused.

Why the fuck did I drink so much last night? you questioned as you braced yourself and opened your eyes again.

You found yourself alone in bed, which didn’t seem too unusual until you remembered that you hadn’t been alone when you fell asleep. Pete had been there, more specifically he had been cuddling you.

You’ll regret this in the morning, you recalled him saying before you drifted off to sleep. You wondered if he had left before you had the chance to decide how you felt about the events of the night before.

You popped two Aspirin pills into your mouth and swallows them with a mouthful of water. You pulled yourself out of bed and slowly walked out of your room, the only speed you could manage in this state. You were halfway to your kitchen when you realized you were smelling something; bacon. You wondered where the smell was coming from, and didn’t have to look far to get the answer.

Pete was stood by your stove, two plates full of eggs and toast already sat next to him. When he heard you enter, he turned and greeted you with a smile.

“Good morning sleeping beauty!” he said. His loud voice pierced your ears and you quickly covered them and groaned. He chuckled. “You poor thing, you’re gonna hate today.”

“I already do,” you said. “Is that for me?”

He looked down at the plate of breakfast. “One of them is, yeah. Do you think you can keep it down?”

“I can try.”

The two of you sat at your dining room table and began to eat. Although your stomach still didn’t feel right, the food was definitely soaking up whatever alcohol was left in your system and thus was making the splitting headache you had subside just a little bit.

There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you. Despite what you thought the night before, you could still remember every detail; the emotional conversation, the kiss, the cuddling, how you felt when the latter two things were happening. You knew Pete remembered because he certainly wasn’t as fucked up as you were.

“Do you regret it?” you found yourself suddenly asking.

Pete looked up from his breakfast, fake confusion on his face. “What do you mean?”

You gave him a look. “Pete, I remember last night. I remember what we did, and what you said before I fell asleep.”

He sighed, turning his attention back to his food. “I don’t know...do you regret it?”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “If anything, I...I feel whatever the opposite of regret is. The only thing I regret is getting so drunk I threw up after we kissed.”

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s not exactly great timing.”

You looked at him, still waiting for his answer. Finally, he looked up at you again and said, “I don’t regret it either.”

“So what do we do now?” you asked.

Pete thought for a moment before saying, “I take you out on a date, one where we’re both completely sober, and we decide if we really want to do this. How does that sound?”

You smiled brightly at him. “I think that sounds like a great plan.”

[minahoeshi]

you were loved the most the most of all.

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader | breakup angst

Summary: You should've known that when Ushijima Wakatoshi found it easy to fall in love with you, it might be even easier for him to fall out of it. But who expects the worst when it comes to loving someone as seemingly perfect as him, anyway?

Chapter 1 of 2

Chapter 2 of 2

Middle schooler Ushijima Wakatoshi was already more special than the kids around him. This, he was made to believe. It’s not exactly like it was wrong either. When a child is raised the way he was, with so much support that it’s suffocating, one can only grow to be good at what they were told they were meant to be doing. Volleyball as a toddler was meant for the happier times, a memory locked away as nothing but a feeling of nostalgia, never to be completely remembered again. Volleyball as a middle school player was an endless beginning, the very first point of a journey with no real possible end. Volleyball as one of the best among kids of his age, proven by the strength his high school team was known for and the fact that he was already on the world stage as well, could only ever spur him on to keep the momentum. Keep climbing, he would be reminded. Never stop. That’s how you reach the peak. Whether he would break after all that or rise to the very top was never even a matter of discussion. The way to the top was the only one there was. Looking back down and allowing himself to just freefall until the top becomes a distance almost crossed but never reached wasn’t ever an option. Wakatoshi could only ever aim for the very peak.

So, Wakatoshi, how’s volleyball as a pro?

The feeling of a dream-come-true that never was a dream, he might say. But him and sentimental descriptions simply didn’t really mix much. You were the one filled to the brim with those kinds of words. Maybe flowers laced the walls of your chest, maybe when God kicked Adam and Eve out of Eden, he left the garden to grow and flourish within your lungs, maybe you unknowingly raised every single Godly creation and so you were blessed with the power to create as well. You were full of flowery words, that’s what he knows. He would listen to every single one of them, count every petal, water every plant, kiss every one of them in their full bloom, and watch as sunlight filtered orange sets on all that you are. He’s always liked plants. But yours were his favourite.

So he wonders why the point where he could no longer listen to your words had to come. Why he looked at you and only felt the kind of fondness that comes with familiarity but not exactly love. Why the way your hands entwined with his no longer fills his chest with warmth. Why the abyss he spent trying to fill before you arrived (and made him realise maybe empty spaces were never meant to be filled to feel full but instead filled to feel warm) now feels extremely cold again. So maybe things like love do end. And maybe he made promises too soon.

So maybe when you told him about your mother and father and about how they made promises too but couldn’t come through, and when Wakatoshi thought you won’t ever be the same, he was wrong. Maybe one of them realised letting go when love no longer feels the same is better than letting their hands stay entwined when there’s only numbing coldness left to be felt. So maybe it’d do you better for him to let things end. From this point onwards, whatever he does will only ever hurt you. Because you crave the kind of affection that won’t ever end, and how he wish he could keep giving that to you, but he just no longer can. And staying with him who, for whatever fucked up reason the cosmos came up with, can no longer find the love he spent years sharing with you, is something he would never wish upon you.

This fucking hurts. How he fucking wants to keep loving you. What the hell happened?

After you left, Wakatoshi skipped training. He felt bad for eating the omelette when you cooked it to wish him luck. But he ate it anyway, wondering if he will ever see you again. And if so, will he feel find himself feeling the way he used to? And if yes, would you want that?

How do feelings work anyway?

--

You get to work right away. Still feeling heavy and hurt, sobbing at times, you keep collecting Wakatoshi’s things from your apartment. There were a lot. You were both comfortable with sharing your spaces with each other anytime you both wanted. Sometimes leaving things behind caused problems like that time Wakatoshi left his jersey in your apartment and only realized on the day of a game. You had to head to the gym earlier than you usually do, thankfully having washed the clothing a few days before. It’s actually there again, you find. His Schweiden Adler jersey in your closet among the pile of his other shirts and pyjamas. You put all that and other things into a box and close it up. For now, you’ll clean your place and get some sleep. You slept late last night and you woke up too early. Dealing with lack of sleep and the taxing feelings of ache after a breakup was too much. You were exhausted.

The moment you lie on your bed, you feel yourself falling asleep. And then you do. World gone.

You wake up at around lunch and take a short shower. You dress up, carry the box of Wakatoshi’s stuff, head out, lock your door, and go on your away to Tendou’s chocolate shop. You weren’t friends with him before you met Wakatoshi. So, you guess, maybe this will be the last you see him too. When people lose others, they either prefer to keep remembering or completely forget. For your sake, you’d rather be the latter.

Tendou’s shop isn’t close enough to the train station. You have to walk a few more minutes before you reach it. The box you’re carrying isn’t exactly heavy but you still feel sluggish even after that nap. You stop by a café to gather your wits and rest a bit. When you meet Tendou, you know he’ll greet you brightly. Toshi wouldn’t have told him that you broke up just yet. You realised long ago that unless asked by people, Toshi would rather not say anything most of the time. His silence was one you grew used to. Now you have to get used to not being around it anymore.

When you enter the chocolate shop, you see his red hair behind the counter right away. Quite the opposite of Wakatoshi, he’s lively and loud when he wants to be. Like right now, as he’s talking to a costumer, excitedly helping them choose one of the products they’re looking for. You wait until he’s done, just sending him a wave when he sees you, smiling. When the costumer leaves, you head for the counter and place the box you’ve been holding on top pf it.

Loudly, as you expected, he says, “hello! What brings you here? Haven’t seen you in like, three days, I think? You need anything? Where’s Wakatoshi-san? He’s not with you? Why?”

His barrage of questions won’t be left unanswered. But first, you nudge the box toward him. “Uhm, yeah, haven’t seen you in days. I… uhm, I’m here to ask you to do something. Related to Toshi-kun, of course, and well, why he’s… not, uhm, here…? With me?”

You stutter a lot mainly because you don’t exactly feel like announcing that Wakatoshi broke up with you. Tendou simply seems extremely excited to see you and even hopeful to see his best friend too but right now, you just feel like crying all over again It’s like you just can’t run out of tears. You just know that after this, you’ll go home and sob the rest of the day away. Breaking up with Wakatoshi hurt you a lot.

The redhead urges you on, concern beginning to appear on his face. What with the way you’re stuttering and fidgeting when you’re usually so comfortable around him and other people, it’s easy to tell that you’re not feeling too well. Clearly, something must have happened between you and Wakatoshi.

“So… we… kind of broke up…?” the lack of certainty in your voice makes it seem as though you’re still unsure if things really did end between you and the pro-athlete you’ve spent years with. But with the way Wakatoshi told you his reasons for breaking up last night, and how he didn’t want to keep hurting you because you’ve already talked to him about two other people who met and fell in love and did many things and yet still fell out of it but tried to hold on for too long that they ended up tearing each other down until even their daughter started to break with them until it’s just one tiny family with sharp shards for hearts, only capable of hurting each other and nothing more (some daughters grow up wanting to be anything but their mothers and fathers). Of course, Wakatoshi never mentioned that story, but you both knew that when he said he knows he can only really hurt you even more if he lets things run as they always did, he meant, we’re not your parents. We won’t tear each other down. If you go now, you’ll be okay enough to not be the person you’ll come to hate.

The only thing you allow Tendou to know is that you and Wakatoshi are no longer dating and that you’re both okay with it. You leave it at that, and when Tendou gives you a hug, the pain in your chest runs up your throat and you start crying again but that’s alright because Tendou reminds you that you’re sad and hurt and crying makes sense and crying helps and crying is fine and maybe crying makes it hurt a little bit less. He pats your back and says nothing after that, simply letting you calm down.

Before you leave, you purchase a few sweets because Tendou told u it’ll help. Chocolates and sadness work too well with each other.

–

The last time Wakatoshi remembers talking to you was around a year after your breakup. He and his team known to be one of the bests of Japan lost against the bests of Argentina in the Olympics. The world stage wasn't a strange new world to him and neither was loss, but for the first time in many years, the man found himself burdened by the weight of too many regrets.

He knew then that maybe it wasn't exactly losing against Argentina that made him feel this way. Maybe the emptiness he so desperately filled by pouring too much of his days into training and playing was finally there to break him. Maybe the whole time he was thinking he was getting there, not knowing where, only hoping to keep going because he just doesn't know where he can stop to lay his pieces down, he was only distracted enough to not miss the warmth you brought with you which you took with you when he broke your heart. And so when he lost that game, he questioned what could possibly keep him going. When does this journey end? Until when must he keep going? His parents never told him when he was younger. All this time, he only knew to keep forward. Now that he has won one too many games and finally lost one of the most important games he could play, he finds himself wondering if he should stop here now.

And because you knew him too much, you just had to, you know, be that rock that kept him steady even after he hurt you. He went and broke your heart for reasons he himself still cannot really explain, like how the fuck he knew he was no longer in love with you, and why the fuck is he still missing you, and is God playing with him right fucking now? So you just had to call him when he was all alone in his hotel room, mind messed up in so many ways. Your voice just to had to be there. To tell him, you did so well today. To be honest, I haven't watched much of your games recently but I felt like I just had to watch this one. And it was so awesome. It makes me wanna start watching you play again. You're amazing, Wakatoshi-kun. I'm so proud of you.

And then a year later, Wakatoshi finds out that you finally published the novel you’ve been working on since way before he met you. In the first message you sent him, you attached a picture of your book, saying, look at the name on the cover. are you proud of me yet? I am too<3. Better grab yourself a copy before there's none left, right? He couldn't say for sure why you decided to message him about it. It wasn't like you stayed in contact, both of you aware of how much you preferred not facing the past if you had the choice. That time after he lost against Tooru Oikawa's team in the Olympics and you gave him a call was because you're just that kind. You're just that amazing.

But like many things he'll never understand, he just lets this one be. So what if you told him about your book? He should be thankful enough that you even decided to tell him about it. So he goes and buys a copy and reads it as soon as he gets home. It's not like he's big on reading. But he just really likes your words.

Epilogue

...and if someday we find ourselves in a universe where soulmates are filled to the brim with not only stardust but also pure serendipity, I wonder what kind of mark we would have. I kinda wish it'd be that one where ink on my skin gets inked on yours too. Then maybe it'd be so much easier to tell you all the secrets I've been trying to keep. Like how I spent too many years regretting not succumbing in that green lake back home or how sometimes I bleed all over in red angry lines running down like red angry tears, and how much you made me just want to live because you just made me feel loved the most of all. Because maybe you were my finallyfinallyfinallyfinally before you were my whywhywhywhywhywhy.

The End

A/N

Hello. I deeply feel how flawed this fic is but that's fine. I'm still learning how to write stories because I've been writing prose more than anything else. So stories like this do kinda scare me. But I still hope you liked it and thank you so much for reading it!!!!

also, not proofread. it's p hard for me to reread my own works so im v sorry for any mistakes and stuff. if u find any mistakes and whatnot pls pls pls tell me. thats all i hope u enjoyed this v much shouldve stayed in the drafts fic. mwa!

taglist:

@lordmypantsaresocool

@annoyingpessimist

@ushijimacentral

[nevenabadr]

It's a Twin Thing: Part 1. Bucky Barnes & Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Note: English is not my first language or Romanian. Also, this was written in a hurry as I was babysitting.

Y/A: your name

The story is in second-person, thus, the reader is the main character.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

My Sebastian Stan’s fan chats on WhatsApp; we support Supernatural too, that’s why the Winchester are mentioned.

Word count: 2568

Warnings: Smut–this is +21 and not for everyone.

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback, please. 🖤…

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

It was a hot summer's day when you came home early to surprise your boyfriend, who is finally off from his duties as an actor and having a little time off for a holiday. You and Sebbie, your boyfriend of a year, now decided to stay in New York, as he missed being in his favourite place on earth.

You were early, holding lots of bags that were blocking your sight to the door. All worth it, because you will be able to cook him a homemade meal and show him that new lingerie you have got. If he forgot, you will remind him where home is.

You put everything down and took off your shoes; you started unbuttoning your blouse and taking off your pants. You were eager to take a shower and start cook for him.

You opened the bathroom door, and he was standing there fixing his hair in front of the mirror, yet he turned to face you. Before he spills a word.

You muttered, "Hey, I did not know you will be early."

You narrowed the gap between the two of you and taking his lips to meet yours in an intense kiss.

You missed him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, making the kiss sensual and he had no problem putting his hands on the curves of your waist pulling you closer to him.

When you broke the kiss, you took a moment to look into his eyes “Bebelus, there is something different about you."

He was blushing and puzzled "Yes!" He sighed, "you have mistaken me for Seabase, did not you."

You jumped a step forward in panic "James? Oh, my God! I am so sorry."

You were trying to cover your body and confusion took over you.

"But you kissed me back." You were angry that almost slapped him, but he dodged your hand.

"Easy doll, I am sorry?" He came off guilty.

"I heard things about you. I did not know you would be your e." You spoke while your eyes gazed upon the floor.

"My plane arrived this morning. I am so sorry that Seabass did not tell you." He kept fixing his hair, which is identical to Sebastian.

"We got on the wrong foot your e, but can you please give me a moment?" You pointed at your body as you were wearing nothing but your undergarments.

"Oh! I will be outside." He shut the door behind him as he left.

You turned on the water and let it run, washing away your impressment.

James is Sebastian's identical twin. James Buchanan Barns and Sebastian Stan Barnes. Stan was Sebastian's middle name, something related to his mother's Romanian roots.

James has a military classified job, while his brother made a career for himself in acting.

Not even their mother could tell them apart, except that Sebastian is a dork and James, as they call him Bucky, is an easy-going ladies-man.

When you finished showing and dressing up. The sound from the kitchen seemed as if your boyfriend was having a loud conversation with himself.

They even sound identical, you thought to yourself, gathered your strength and stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey, guys," you waved for both of them.

"Oh, baby! Bucky told me about the incident" the twin with jogging clothes came and wrapped his arms around you.

You almost stopped him "Sebbie, baby, is that you?"

Yes, Y/N." He kissed your forehead and then your lips.

"I am so sorry, that I forgot to mention that Bucky was coming." He soothed you with another sweet kiss.

"We were not introduced properly," Bucky said playfully

"This is Y/A, my girlfriend and lady of the house." He said, then pointed at Bucky, "this is the famous, James Buchanan, Bucky, my mysterious brother."

"Seabase told poems of you. I am sorry that we have that incident," he implied the earlier kiss.

"No, worries" you am smiled and extend a hand "Welcome to our home, Bucky" he took your hand and smiled calmly.

At the dinner table, Sebastian and Bucky were laughing and catching up. You were calm and just appreciating the home-cooked dinner by Bucky.

"You are talented at cooking." You were enjoying the cuisine.

"I, the chief, and Seabase were the tidy one." He looked at his brother, "we are a team of cooking and cleaning."

Except that, I don't cook," Sebastian said joked

“Bucky, you know it is today?” Sebastien was busy eating.

Bucky was stunned “a family and friends gathering!” “You are going to see the gang.” Sebastien was rather excited about this more than anything you have seen before.

Georgeta Orlovschi, or as her official name now, Georgetta Stan was a lovely woman, a Romanian immigrant who fell in love with an American to a marriage that brought the best thing in her to the world, the twins; James and Sebastian.

As a violinist and part of the New York Opera House, she met their father, Mr William Barnes, a well-known handsome conductor who made her world perfect.

The world was perfect until she had to change diapers and stay up with William by her side.

William was of a well-known wealthy family, but Mrs Barnes was an Eastern European woman. She wanted to have deities by herself and not to have servants to do all the work.

Her friend Mary Winchester, the wife of William's closest friend, John — was the nicest woman you can meet, a Taxes woman. Mary was like Mrs Barnes. She did not like servants to do the job; she took upon duties of her firstborn, Dean, and later she had Sam, a few years before the Twins.

The boys grow up together.

Dean took the eldest brother's duties to the bone. Even when the new kid, Steve Rogers, became best friends with Bucky; he took him under his wing.

The gang, no one could touch his brother or their friends.

Soon after they entered Middle School and Dean was a senior, Steve got into a fight. Dean came close to the boys to find Bucky just leaving his book aside and taking the ground by his friend.

Sebastian was the one in front of both. No one hurt Steve.

Sam hurried to Dean for safety. Dean arrived and tried to calm everyone down "Steve said he was sorry." He smirked at the boy, who was angry and demanded to bully Steve.

While Sebastian and Sam were trying to hold Steve back, "I can do this all day."

Bucky did not give anyone else a chance to speak as he bunched the bully right in the nose, which got everyone in trouble, which Dean wanted to take the responsibility for. Detention and forever to be recorded in his file.

Dean Winchester did not care for his record, just the young boys to be well.

But finally, the boys came clean to their father; Bucky was homeschooled for the rest of the year and Sebastian refused to go back to school until his brother joined him back.

They were all a mischievous gang with Dean Winchester as the head.

Days passed, and each got into their ways; Dean with Harvard school as his father pulled a connection to forget the file problem. Dean was already qualified enough.

Sam went to Stanford, Bucky and Steve picked a military life, and Sebastian was all about acting.

It was his first time alone overseas, the Shakespeare's Globe yet had another surprise for him, a friend; Anthony Mackie, an American talent who became Sebastian's best friend.

The gang was getting bigger and louder.

Mrs Barnes had the entire gang and their families for a gathering. James, Bucky, as he liked to be called, is finally back after an entire year in God-knows-what military work.

After dinner, the gang was laughing and drinking.

Dean smirked at Sebastian "You got a good girl over here."

"A great kisser too." Bucky teased.

"What do you have in mind, Dean?" Sam teased Dean because he knows what he will spill next.

"You gotta do the twin thing." Dean raised his bottle of beer.

Steve's eyes widened "what twin thing, exactly"

"My man, Dean wants Seabase to go wild." Anthony laughed at the idea.

Dean explained, "a sandwich with her in the middle and the outer layers are twins."

Sam tried to elaborate "if the middle was a girl unless other preferences and so."

Steve was blushing at the idea while Bucky and Sebastian were looking at each other.

"Don't scrunch your nose" Sebastian looked at Bucky.

Bucky tilted his head and give him the puppy eyes "adventures, please."

Then Dean joined him for bagging "please."

"Alright, Alright." Sebastian took a sip of his beer "only with consent.

At that moment Anthony gives Dean ten "You won."

Steve was just irritated at the idea and he kept eyeing his bottle "I can't believe you, guys"

"Dean always wins," Sam shrugged.

You were heading closer to the boys, who were laughing.

"Are not we going home?" You asked Sebastian.

"Yes, babe."

He excused the gang and Bucky followed with the boys waving and clapping.

"They seem happy and excited. Are not they." You waved at them while speaking to Sebastian, but the reply came from Bucky "they should be. And hopefully, will be,"

Back in the car, Sebastian hesitated, but he told you why they were laughing.

“Dean wants you to try what?” You were completely shocked.

“The twin-thing.” Bucky sounded excited.

Sebastian took your hand in his, “baby, it’s a silly boys’ bet.”

You looked at him, “are you going to let Dean win?” and you smirked.

Bucky explained the rules. It has to be a sex sandwich with both of them, but no sex while they are in their mum's house.

“God only knows how she might react to this.” Sebastiana sighed.

Bucky laughed and explained, “an eastern European woman, she might get them a priest to perform an exorcism on us.”

“Or sanctify the house.” Sebastien completed his twin’s explanation.

They agreed Bucky will stay at Sebastian’s house for the night until they plan the twins’ thing.

The next morning, after you all had eaten breakfast together, you were cleaning the table. You will keep bumping into Bucky.

His torso to your back, kissing the exposed parts of your skin. You titled your head on your back to give him room.

His hands will travel under your clothes. His girl was wearing nothing but your skill PJ of pair of shorts and a top.

Dean's words have got straight to Bucky’s head, that he has been imagining having the twin-thing with his brother’s girlfriend.

Bucky reached the kitchen, and he almost dropped the plates.

His brother was kissing Y/N, who closed his eyes completely as Sebastian was squeezing your butt with a hand and they together are caressing your nipple about the silk.

You moaned; Bucky felt himself getting hard.

Yet, you felt Sebastian's hard length against your butt. You turned to kiss him with parted lips, looking to consume him.

Their tongue met and the sounds of their kissing made Bucky, who was at the edge and impulsively tried to hide his aroused length.

Sebastian opened his eyes as he parted from the kiss. Y/A twirled to meet Bucky's eyes and peeking at his lower body.

"Poor Bucky." You stepped closer to him, you kissed him first, yet he opened his eyes, waiting for Sebastian's approval, who gave him a wave to go ahead.

You kissed Bucky and slides your hand to stock his length above the sweat pants he was wearing.

Bucky moaned against your lips and wrapped his arms around you for a moment to deepen the kiss.

At that same time, Sebastian paced to lay kisses on your shoulder and squeeze your butt.

You started moaning, parted from Bucky, to meet Sebastian at a kiss

"Better take it to the bedroom." You said in between your moaning and breath.

You walked with the twin brothers to the bedroom, yet could not take off their hands off your body.

In the bedroom, Sebastian pulled down your shorts, and Bucky took off your top.

"Bucky, you are beautiful, Y/A," he said as he keeps kissing the soft spot under your ears and lowers down your breast.

"You better underdress to boys," you ordered and both of them took off their clothes at once.

Before starting anything, Bucky looked at Sebastien, who understood his brother immediately.

“Second drawer in the nightstand near his bed.” Sebastian pointed to Bucky, who was full of condoms, lubricant, and some toys.

You twirled around Bucky for a moment "nothing I have not seen before" you

Ran your fingers on his skin till touching his length and teasing his slit that was dripping pre-cum.

Yet, before Bucky put the condom on his length, you got down and tasted him, “tasty,” you whipped your lips and helped him to wear the condom

Then moved to Sebastian and kissed him "oh, that chest is getting rough again." You kissed his lips and lower to his jaw and neck.

Then you winked at Sebastian playfully to drop on four to take his full length between your lips.

You sucked him slowly. Bucky was watching your butt against him and your inviting lady delicate area was pumping with a need that he could not keep himself from entering you all at once.

You clenched him inside you, milking him and you were bobbing your head, milking Sebastian with your mouth as squeezing his balls.

Sebastian gripped your hair and Bucky put his hands on your hips, entering you, as you were getting tighter and closer.

"I am closed," Sebastian muttered breathlessly as he came inside your mouth. You swallowed him whole.

On the other hand, Bucky was close, Sebastian took a step back to let you rest on four, you were moaning and Bucky banging himself harder against you. The voice of their skin clashing and moaning were loud that the rest Sebastian was getting harder again.

Bucky wanted you closer to him, he pulled you up and rested your head on his chest and squeezed your breasts "cum for me now doll," he ordered as biting the side of your neck and squeezing your breasts and you were so tight that Sebastian came close and stocked your clitoris to give you more pleasure. You were standing between the skin of the two brothers.

With almost shut eyes, looking at Sebastian who was stocking your clitoris, then he kissed you down till his tongue reached your soft part. After two strokes with his tongue on your clitoris. You were so tight around Bucky that he could not see in front of him as he cum hard at the same time you felt the shaking electric power of your orgasm.

You were about to collapse that Sebastian carried you to the bed. You laid together between the two brothers.

"That was wow," Bucky muttered breathlessly.

Sebastian asserted playfully, "round two"

"Maybe later tonight?" You rolled and kissed Sebastian.

The three of you were laughing and Bucky closed his eyes to rest.

You put a leg on Sebastian's tights, getting closer to his body, feeling Bucky's chest hugging you from behind.

The head of their bodies calmed that the three of you slept in harmony.

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

My tag list:

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

@brokenwitty

@sinner-as-saint

@zemosimp05

@fallloverfanfiction

[mcufox123]

Table 5 (Chapter 6)

Summary: Wanda finally meets one of your closest friends. You are also overcome with emotions about your new relationship.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks. Implications of smut

A/N: This was a hard chapter to write and read back. If you guys have any suggestions or comments please let me know!

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter 4 Chapter5

Your night went on and when it was time you lined up the food to bring to the Avengers. The servers helped you carry the food, and you were sure to grab Wanda’s food so you could place it in front of her. As you put it down you put your hand on her back and she leaned back into your touch.

“I hope everyone enjoys their meal here tonight! If there are any problems, please feel free to let me know!” you say as the group begins to dig into their food. You walk back to your station nervous that they wouldn’t like your food.

You were wrong when 15 minutes later Tony Stark meets your eyes and waves you over to the table.

“Yes sir? Is everything ok?” you ask nervously.

“Chef Y/N, dinner was unbelievable. My swordfish was cooked perfectly. I mean how do you do that? It was flakey and the flavors just danced in my mouth.” He gushed about his platter that was now completely clear of any food that had been on there.

“Dude my steak was so good too!” Sam continued the praise and you felt pride well up in your chest.

“Thank you! I’m only as good as my team, I’m sure you guys know how that goes.”

“Of course! You’re giving Wanda down there a run for her money. She cooks as well, pretty decently actually.” Tony said nodding to the girl down the table from him. You smiled because you knew what an amazing cook she was. You played along so nobody would suspect anything.

“Is that so? I will have to see for myself someday.” You see her laugh and you smile in return, loving the way her laugh sounds.

“Anytime you want Chef Y/N.” she said giving you a wink. The way she said your name sent a chill through your body.

“Seriously, thank you. And I will definitely be coming back here.” Tony said while shaking your hand.  You thanked him once more before finding their server and telling her that their meal was on you tonight. You chuckled to yourself a bit as you imagined their faces when you show up to movie night on Wednesday while walking back to where Bill was chilling behind the counter.

“So how did you land her?” Bill asked, nodding his head to the big table who were ordering dessert.

“Remember that night her and Vision came in and he proposed, and she said no and just sat there?” you remind him of the night all those months ago.

“Yes, and she sat there all night.” He continues, he doesn’t know the full story though.

“Well, after everyone left, I told her she could stay as long as she liked, and I started making dinner for myself. She came over and instead she insisted on finishing making my dinner. After that night she came as much as she could when the restaurant closed to make me dinner. We were friends for the first few months and then about a month ago I asked her to be my girlfriend and we’ve been dating ever since.” You fill him in on your relationship.

“Wait, so you let this lady cook at your station before you let me cook back here? That’s messed up I thought I was your best friend?” You looked at your friend and chuckled as he continued. “Why are you so scared then? She seems great.”

“Her job is scary, and I didn’t think about that till tonight. I mean what if something happens to her? How will I know? I can’t do anything to stop her or help her.” You say thinking about all the things that could happen to her running through your head.

“Y/N, it’s her job, just like cooking is your job. Also, everyone, not just superheroes, could get hurt at any point of the day. I could get hit by a car and die walking home tonight. We can’t focus on everything that could go wrong, focus on how happy you are instead.” You are shocked at how wise your friend is.

“Who are you and what did you do to Bill?” you ask giving him a serious expression. “For real though, thank you. That made me feel a lot better.”

“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. Serious question though, when can I meet her?” you take a minute to think about it.

“If you want to stick around, she’s coming back tonight.” he nods his head in excitement and the two of you clean up the kitchen. You see the avengers walk out of the restaurant and you give them a wave. The group walks down the sidewalk before Wanda says something to Steve and turns around to come back.

She walks in the restaurant and over to your station. She gives you a loving kiss and says, “See you tonight my love!” before she runs back out the doors to the team who are just standing there chatting not even paying attention to their missing teammate.

You watch her with a grin on your face. Bill claps you on the back as you go to the cupboard to grab a bottle of wine. Bill stands at the counter, and you decide to whip up some brownies for dinner tonight.

The time passes, the servers finish cleaning up and all of your staff besides Bill leaves. Your brownies are in the oven, and you go to the freezer to get your vanilla ice cream. When you come back you see Bill talking to Wanda by the counter.

You gently put the ice cream on the counter and sneak up behind Wanda to wrap her in a hug and kiss her cheek.

“Hi beautiful.” You say. Bill watches both of you with curious eyes.

“Hello my love.” She says back as she wraps her arms around your waist.

“Bill this is Wanda, Wanda this is Bill. He’s second in command here and my best friend since high school.” You tell her. She looks at you while your speaking loving the way you look after work.

“Thanks y/n! I already introduced myself but Wanda it’s so nice meeting you!” Bill says bringing the wine glass up to his lips. “Wanda was just telling me about the Airport battle in Germany.” Bill loved hearing about the Avengers so the fact that you were dating one was a fanboy moment for him.

As they continued to talk about numerous battles that the Avengers have fought and won, you felt yourself becoming more and more anxious. Bill talked you down earlier thinking about Wanda getting hurt but the more they talked about battles, the harder it was to be ok. Thinking about Wanda being hurt and not being able to be with you left you feeling lost. She was a very powerful person and probably a target for many people. What if she was seriously hurt? What if she had to go away for months? What if she died? The thoughts kept swarming your head and they wouldn’t stop.

You stayed silent for most of the conversation as you put the brownies on plates with ice cream on top for them to eat. You stayed by your station while they were by the counter talking. Zoning out in your thoughts you missed when Bill informed you both that he had to leave.

“Well, I have to head on out! Lots to do tonight before tomorrow. Wanda it was so nice meeting you though!” Bill says hugging Wanda and coming around to shake your hand. You stare at it for a second before shaking it.

“Bill it was so nice meeting you!” Wanda says eyeing you curiously because of your behavior. He grabs his things and walks out the back door with one last wave.

“How was your day babe?” She asks you once Bill leaves. You don’t know why but you start to feel very anxious being with her alone tonight. All of the words Natasha and Bill said still running through your mind. It’s like your brain is running a marathon and you can’t stop it.

“It was good.” You give your shortest reply to the question. It was starting to get difficult to breath or focus on anything.

“Are you ok?” she has concern clear on her face. You feel your chest tighten up more when you look at her. You see her face littered with cuts and bruises and you freeze. You don’t know how to help her or make the cuts better. She can tell something is wrong and she isn’t sure what to do.

“Y/n, honey, I’m here ok. Whatever you need.” She says as she walks towards you realizing that you are not ok. The closer she gets you can see the cuts becoming more prominent on her face and you start to hyperventilate.

“Hold me please?” You can’t even look at her as you ask but you feel arms wrap around you. The weight on your chest is heavy and you try and calm down but it’s difficult. Wanda runs her hands up and down your back as she tries to soothe you.

“It’s ok I’m here.” She reassures you. After ten minutes you feel yourself start to calm down. You know exactly why you feel this way, but it is hard for you to communicate it to her tonight. You have a troubled past that doesn’t reach the light too often. She continues to hold you until you pull away. You put a mask back on as you pretend that you are fine.

“Here let me clean up these plates.” You grab the dirty dishes and put them in the sink choosing to ignore what just happened. You do not want to dwell on it, and you know Wanda is going to ask questions.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m here for you I’ll listen.” Wanda asks you to try to figure out your sudden outburst. You wish you could put into words what was happening, but you didn’t want to scare her away.

“Can we just forget about that please?” you walk towards her grabbing her hands. She can see that you aren’t going to budge so she agrees. You turn off the lights in the restaurant before the both of head to your loft. You get ready for bed, as does Wanda and when she comes out of the bathroom, she is quick to cuddle into your arms.

“Do you want to watch some TV?” you ask her, and you just feel her nod against your chest. You put on Modern Family, a mindless show.

“Hey y/n can we talk about something.” Wanda works up the courage to bring up a tough subject.

“Of course, my love.” She sits up so she can look at you while talking.

“Y/N, I know we haven’t really talked about it but I’m an avenger. My job is taxing and it’s constant. And I never know what is going to happen.” You could tell this conversation was hard for her to say, it was hard for her to hear but in this moment, you forget about all your worries as best you can to focus on her. You push all your unsaid feelings aside so you could try and help her through this. “If you can’t… if that isn’t ok you know the… the… unknown I understand.” She says tears welling up in her eyes. This broke you because although you have known this girl for 6 months you would do anything for her.

“I love you.” You reassure her, cupping her face in your hands. “I’m not going anywhere don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” she’s unsure at your words.

“Wanda, I have not been this sure of anything else in my life.” And it’s true. You don’t want to go anywhere, the part you’re not telling her is that you don’t want her to go anywhere either. You don’t want other people to have to need her like you do. She brightens every night when she comes to see you, and you don’t want to lose her.

You share a sweet kiss before she snuggles into you again. “Can I ask another question?”

You chuckle before you reply, “You can ask me as many questions as you want whenever you want.”

“What did Natasha say to you?” You tense up a bit, your anxiety bubbling in your body again as the question is heading back to the subject you just tried to shut down.

“Just saying she knew who I was and what we were.” You tell her half the truth hoping she didn’t feel you go stiff under her.

“Haha yeah I kind of told her about us today.” She chuckles nervously.

“That’s quite alright. I mean I’m happy to tell everyone I know I’m dating you.” You reassure her. “You are amazing. The way you care about people, the way you love the team, you’re not too bad of a cook either.” You start to sit up and she falls underneath of you. You are quick to climb on top of her, so your face is mere inches from her. “You are stunning, I could get lost in your eyes for forever. And you make me the happiest person I have ever been.” You look into her eyes, so she knows you mean every word.

Tears start to form in her eyes as she is overcome with emotion. She reaches up to your face keeping your eye contact. “You make me the happiest person I have ever been too. I am so lucky to have you to brighten up my days. After everything that I’ve been through with my family, with being experimented on, with losing my brother, with everything that happened between me and the avengers at first, I never thought I would feel this way about anyone.” You felt butterflies swirl in your stomach as you leaned down to kiss her.

“Are you sleepy?” You ask her hoping she said no. You wanted to spend the night wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Not particularly. Are you?”  Her eyes grew a few shades darker as she looked in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m super tired.” You say in a sarcastic tone while you roll your eyes. She squints her eyes at you.

“You better not be.” She expertly flipped you both over, so she was now on top of you. She leaned down to pepper your face in. Needless to say, you both end up barely getting sleep.

Taglist:

@b0mbdotc0m @yeetus-thyself @ineedafinghug @madamevirgo @when-wolves-howl @musicinourlips

[a-froger-epic]

tw: mention of eating disorders

hey i read something about freddie having an eating disrorder, and I hate asking this but could you please explain if you know anything about it. my poor baby :(

Hey anon!

I’m sorry it took me a while to reply. This is a sensitive topic for many, so I wanted to take my time and give you the nuanced reply it deserves.

I’ve talked about this a little before, but I might as well take the opportunity now to speak about it at length. This is only my personal opinion based on everything I’ve read about Freddie and many different takes I’ve seen others put forward.

So, did Freddie have an eating disorder?

The shortest answer to that, as far as I’m concerned, is... maybe?

Before I carry on, I’d like to say that I think everyone is free to speculate about this and make up their own mind, as well as creatively explore this in their writing, and I don’t consider my opinion to be any more correct than anyone else’s.

Why do people think Freddie might have had an ED?

There are a few things about Freddie and food which could be interpreted as ED behaviours. First off, here is what Phoebe has to say about Freddie and his eating habits:

His taste in food changed over the years I was with Freddie. When I started the group of us would make monthly visits to the restaurant Shezan, an Indian eatery, in Knightsbridge. Freddie never had a menu as they always provided his favourite selection of foods without asking. As his illness progressed, his taste buds could not take the assault of spicy foods and he tended to more bland foods. He also turned his eating habits around. He used to have a lighter meal at lunch and then have a big meal in the evening, usually at a restaurant with a big group of friends. Towards the end he would eat more at lunch and a smaller meal in the evenings.

Nothing much out of the ordinary here, as far as I can see. Freddie definitely had favourite foods he enjoyed, but then, a common misconception is that people with EDs don’t like/enjoy food, and that isn’t true. Phoebe also says this:

As I have said before, Freddie was a very light eater. Some of us live to eat, but Freddie was one of those people who ate to live. He was the master of moving food around the plate to give the appearance of having eaten a good amount. He did enjoy good food, but really didn’t need to consume very much. He loved entertaining guests at meals in the dining room at Garden Lodge and was able to disguise his non-eating by making sure everyone else was ok during the meal. Don’t get me wrong, Freddie always ate enough to keep him going, but I can’t remember one time when he leant back in the chair saying ‘I’m stuffed!’

Now here we have a lot of things to unpack. There are three things in here - moving food around the plate to give the appearance of having eaten more, disguising his non-eating and never eating enough to be full - which are definitely known ED behaviours.

However, people who just do not care about food all that much and are light eaters do also exist. In fact, I’m one of them myself. I did struggle with Disordered Eating in my teens and my early 20s, but I have a healthy relationship with food now and I never like to eat until I’m stuffed because it’s not a nice feeling, physically, to overeat. I’m also someone who easily and genuinely forgets to eat when I’m in a creative haze. Just as an example.

Also, seeing as Freddie most likely was made to finish meals all throughout his boarding school times, like many children in lunch halls, which is usually not a great experience for children who are picky or light eaters, the “moving food around the plate to make it seem he’s eaten” could well be an old habit stemming from there.

Either way, Phoebe doesn’t seem too concerned about Freddie’s eating, and even though people with EDs are very good at hiding them, Phoebe did know him for a long time and very, very well. Phoebe could also be withholding information that he considers too private. All of that is possible, all of that is speculation.

There are other things which point to the fact that Freddie was definitely preoccupied with his weight/appearance. In this interview in 1974, he says:

“Oh really,” he exclaims in disgust, “this paper has no flair - I mean to print this picture three times in succession … and just look at my arms!” He was horrified, “look at how fat they appear, now my arms aren’t like that at all - what do you think?” He rolls up his sleeves for me to inspect and I’d like to state here and now that the poor dear’s arms are quite, quite slender!

The photo Freddie is most likely talking about, is this one:

It’s not a very fortunate angle, admittedly. So I think it’s possible to see where he was coming from, but even so, he was worried about his arms looking fat at a time when he looked like this:

Yes, it is important to keep in mind that people were generally thinner in the 70s than we are used to now. (Brian, for example, was also incredibly thin.) But in this picture it really is evident that Freddie was very, very thin at this point.

Other things which are often brought into the discussion around Freddie’s eating habits is the account of him throwing a fit when Brian ate one of his biscuits once, choosing to walk after a meal at a restaurant while his driver drove alongside him and his friends, eating cereal on the floor in his dressing room, this picture where he clearly prefers salad to chicken wings (unlike Roger “What Even Are Vegetables” Taylor):

All of the above, to me, are things which can be heavily read into but ultimately don’t prove very much.

And there is this bit from Mercury & Me:

The Sun did later print a photograph of Freddie taken while he was performing at the festival, which he didn't appreciate. It showed off "Flabulous Freddie" with a slight paunch, wickedly describing it as his "midriff bulge". When he saw the picture he looked at me and shook his head in despair. 'It's typical,' he said. 'If I'm slim the papers say I'm too thin and if I put on a little bit of a belly they say I'm too fat. It's a no-win situation.'

Now, that doesn’t give off the impression to me that Freddie was particularly distraught about that article, at that point in his life. But it certainly appears to have bothered him to some degree.

So what’s the conclusion?

To me, personally, it seems quite likely that Freddie did suffer from Disordered Eating in the early to mid 70s. That’s really not uncommon, sadly, although it usually afflicts young women more than young men. But he was in the spotlight and had to care about his appearance. He was clearly very preoccupied with it, not only when it came to his body, but his looks in general - there is plenty of evidence regarding that. He was very selective about which photographs of himself he did and didn’t like. However, I find it impossible to say just how much this preoccupation affected him exactly. 1974 especially was also a very taxing year for Queen. Their management was shit, they struggled with money, they almost lost Brian, their touring schedules were brutal, the press was bashing them, Freddie was struggling with his sexual identity. There were a lot of immense stress factors, and he could have very well been someone who responded to stress by not eating - just like others respond to stress by eating too much. And Disordered Eating is not classed as an eating disorder. It is, if you will, the beginning of one.

Or, he absolutely could have developed or already had an actual ED which he was hiding fairly well, and it could have affected him a lot, but nobody would have ever known because he would have been unlikely to ever speak to anybody about it.

Both is possible. I simply don’t think that there is enough information to do more than speculate on the matter, beyond: He had a preoccupation with his looks and minded what and how much he ate throughout his life.

However, in the second half of the 70s as well as the 80s, he was still thin but had started working out and looked more “athletic” thin rather than gaunt. I think it’s entirely possible that whatever issues Freddie had with food were not a constant thing but something that may have been worse and better at times, depending on his overall mental well-being and his levels of confidence.

Or, it could have been something that he always struggled with.

Again, as far as I am concerned, both is possible and I don’t feel I can say for certain. And so, my take leans towards Disordered Eating when younger and less preoccupation with it later on. That’s the impression I get.

But I wrote all this out so that others can make up their own minds, and rather than share my exact opinion, I encourage you to do just that.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve���s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[writtenvisionary]

Rooftop Riddles

Read on Ao3

WC: 5.1k

Summary: One riddle changes everything. Dramatic identity reveal, oneshot, ladynoir/adrienette | trigger warning - depression, self-harm, abuse/neglect

The breeze was nothing short of refreshing as she sat next to her partner in crime. He was silent for the time being, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he would start saying something stupid. So she took in her surroundings while there was still silence between them.

It was dark; street lights illuminated all of Paris. Shadows bounced from wall to wall as civilians took their nightly walks, either from work or just around the block to get some fresh, cool air before they go to sleep. There are also those pathetically trudging toward their place of employment for their overnight shifts, and Marinette felt for them. Being Ladybug was all too taxing on her, and she often felt like she worked 24 hours, but in reality it was just all of the extra exercise that made her so exhausted every day.

Looking over at Chat Noir, she takes in his appearance. His hunched back, drooped cat ears, slow breaths. He’s looking straight ahead, seemingly lost in his own train of thought. Her eyebrows furrow.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her partner beats her to it.

“Wanna hear a riddle?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Okay. What do you call a sad watermelon?”

Ladybug had to think. Biting her bottom lip, she pondered an answer.

“Um... I don’t know, what?”

“Melon-choly.”

A smile lit up her face.

“Oh!” She laughed.

“Here’s another. It’s kinda long, so get ready.”

She nods, shifting in her seat.

“A single father took care of his baby, and he was rich so the baby had a lot. Food, clothes, excessive stuff. What didn’tthe baby have?”

Marinette frowns, some weird feeling rushing through her veins. She sits up, narrowing her eyes at the boy clad in a black leather suit. He sits with his legs pulled up to his chest, looking straight forward. Not even a tiny upward lift of his lips, making her worry.

Something about the way he delivered that riddle was… ominous. It didn’t seem like he was disconnected from the story he was telling. It’s almost like he could relate.

She gulps.

“A mother?”

He nods, then hangs his head for a moment before pulling it back up and flashing an obviously fake smile in her direction.

“Bingo,” he says dryly.

Her frown deepens.

Why did that riddle sound like something personal? Is he rich?

That sounds like someone she knows. And the riddle boy’s mother was gone… that sounded like him too.

No, there’s no correlation. It’s just a random riddle.

“Alright, last one.”

“Okay,” she nods.

“I am twisted from what I was, to hold the weight of others. Yet tie a knot, and my use to this world is gone.”

Her heart plummets down into her stomach. She loses her breath and has to look back at the city of Paris to think.

If it was possible, this riddle sounded scarier than the last. Chat Noir must really be in a bad mood because normally he puns, not riddles, and the jokes he tells are stupid and funny. These are just... depressing. Her concern is growing by the minute.

She needs to give an answer.

Twisted… Hold the weight of others… Tie a knot… My use to this world is gone.

Tie a knot? What?

“I—“ she licks her lips and shakes her head.

“I’m at a loss. I don’t know.”

Chat hesitates before whispering the answer.

“A noose.”

Her eyes widen and she suddenly feels like she’s been punched in the face.

“Just kidding, it’s a paperclip.”

But he didn’t seem like he was kidding. She was officially scared.

“Chat, you’re worrying me.”

“What do you call a dead pine tree?”

“Chat.”

“A never-green.”

“Minou, I —“

“What do you call a broken pencil?”

“Chat Noir.”

“Pointless,” he laughs darkly.

“Chat Noir!”

Finally, he looks over at her and her mouth falls agape.

His complexion is so pale, lips are pressed into a thin line, and his eyes are glistening.

“What?” He asks, voice breaking on the word.

Carefully, she places her hands on either side of his face. She stares directly into his eyes.

“You’re worrying me,” her voice shakes. “Please tell me whatever’s making you upset so I can help.”

“… I-I’m not upset.”

“Kitty. You just told me a riddle about a noose.”

He shakes his head, scrunching his eyebrows.

“It was a paperclip, milady. Can’t you appreciate a good joke?”

“Chat, all of the jokes you’ve cracked tonight have been nothing short of depressing.”

Frowning, he pulls away from her hold, avoiding her gaze.

“So? New to dark humor?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But that’s not normally the humor you have, Chaton.”

He’s quiet for a couple seconds before responding.

“Just wanted to try something different—“

“I’m not going to take these bullshit excuses, you know?”

Chat Noir raises an eyebrow, not used to such language coming from his lady.

“They’re not excuses—“

“YES they are!”

She softens her voice.

“Please,” she begs. “Talk to me.”

It’s almost as if she didn’t say anything, how he continues to stare into the distance, silently appreciating the view of Paris. She follows suit, not knowing what else to say. Instead, she decides to wait it out. Hopefully he’ll talk. Eventually.

And he does.

“My mother died about a year ago.”

Her jaw slackens, but she stays silent.

“Father has always been very… strict. But lately he’s been putting a lot on me. Stuff that… stuff that a normal, average sixteen-year old shouldn’t have to put up with,” he sighs.

He calls his dad father? The only other person who does that is…

Alarms go off in her head.

“He makes me take so many lessons beyond school. Chinese, fencing, piano— and he didn’t even let me go to public school until four months ago. I was homeschooled by my father’s assistant, I mean she’s a good family friend—“

Wait.

“And the only friend that was ever allowed over was the mayor’s daughter, and she’s snobby and hangs off of me like I’m her fucking property when I’m NOT and—“

Chloé?

“Father doesn’t even have dinner with me. I mean, maybe once every two months if I get lucky—“

Her eyes widen. He couldn’t be…

“But most of the time it’s just me and the family friend, and she’s not even eating! She’s looking over my schedule to make sure it’s as jam-packed as it was the day before. I swear I never get a break.

“Sometimes it feels like Father is always disappointed in me, no matter what I do. I feel like I’m trapped in his bubble, like I can’t get out. My house is like a fortress. Or a prison. Being Chat Noir is my escape but I just… It’s getting to be too much, milady.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

She feels like she lost her voice. Her brain is on overdrive.

If all the pieces are adding up, my akuma-fighting partner is also my crush who is also a world famous model and—

Focus, Marinette.

“It sounds stressful, A— uh, Chat.”

He intakes a sharp breath.

“Did I say too much?”

She bites her lip. Yes.

“No?”

It comes out as a question. He must suspect that she’s lying.

He tilts his head in admission, then looks down.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Um… I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

Slowly, Chat Noir—Adrien—meets her gaze once again.

His response was hesitant. “Yeah.”

She has to sigh; she doesn’t seem to be getting through to him.

“Minou, you are loved and wanted and I want to make sure you know that.”

Chat Noir chews his bottom lip.

“Thanks, bugaboo.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, just peering down at the streets of their city. She wants to ask him more questions because it seems like there’s more he’s not telling her, but decides against it. She doesn’t expect him to tell her everything, especially since opening up that much was already hard enough for him (and she really shouldn’t have been able to figure out his identity because danger! but she supposes she’ll forgive him since he’s literally the love of her life and he needs someone to be there for him either way).

A small movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention. She looks in Chat’s direction, noting how he’s holding a hand over his left wrist. Her frown deepens. It’s not like she wants him to notice that she’s staring, but she can’t look away. Warily, she watches his face twist in pain.

“Does your wrist hurt, kitty?”

He startles, but shakes his head.

“It’s good.”

“But,” she challenges, “you’re holding it. Looks like it hurts…”

Chat Noir clenches his teeth, turning to look at his lady with fire in his eyes.

“I said it’s good, Ladybug. Leave it.”

Marinette flinches at the use of her superhero name instead of one of his usual nicknames for her. His tone is uncharacteristically harsh, as well.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

The last thing she wants to do is upset him more.

She clears her throat, at a loss for words. The atmosphere had suddenly turned tense and she wasn’t fully enjoying his presence anymore. Of course, he wasn’t dangerous or anything, but she really didn’t want him to snap at her again.

Ladybug likes a happy kitten, not a bitter one.

She wishes she knew what to do.

“Well,” Chat speaks. “I gotta head out; get back home before my father’s assistant notices I’m gone and I get taken out of school.”

He stands, getting ready to extend his baton and hop from building to building for as long as possible in order to procrastinate his return to the large, lonely mansion where he resides.

Ladybug hops up so quickly that her head spins, but she ignores it in hope of saying one last thing before he leaves.

“Hey, Chaton?”

Said cat boy looks in her direction, letting her know that he’s listening.

Instead of speaking, she just leans forward to press her lips onto his cheek. When she pulls away, she offers a smile.

“You and me against the world.”

He plasters a (fake) grin onto his face, “Thanks, bugaboo. See you later.”

Then he bolts away, leaving his Lady alone on a rooftop.

Life had gone on as normal for both Adrien and Marinette. For the next two weeks, the superhero pair had not spoken about Chat’s home life or his internal struggles. She wanted to give him some space and he simply wanted to forget that he even showed so much vulnerability around her.

Granted, Adrien didn’t care that she knew. In fact, he was pretty happy that she had been willing to listen. Usually she never allowed rants from the either of them because she knew that it was easy to slip up and say something that could lead an unwarranted identity reveal.

Marinette wanted to talk to him, come to a mutual agreement, and then officially tell each other who they were. She knew it was unfair that she knew and wasn’t telling him, but in all honesty, she wasn’t even sure her suspicions are right.

(She’s ninety-nine percent sure).

Her eyes had been on Adrien for those two weeks, subtly checking to make sure that there weren’t bags under his eyes (there were), that his smiles weren’t forced (they were), and that he was eating enough (she had no way of knowing, but he hadn’t asked for a macaron in a few days and she was starting to get worried).

He was doing somewhat alright, from what she could tell. She didn’t expect to see anything different today.

Boy, was she wrong.

She had been passing out papers to the class regarding their next class trip, explaining that they needed a parent signature, as well as forty-two Euros by next Monday, in order to attend. When she reached Adrien, she paused.

He was rubbing at his left wrist — the same wrist that Chat had been holding in pain that night two weeks ago. His face was contorted painfully; familiarly. This brought about her worries.

Subtly, she placed down the papers in front of him, to which he looked up at her and sent an oh so fake smile in thanks.

As she walked away, Marinette just barely caught a glimpse of some red, scratch-like marks on his skin as he picked the paper up.

Her heart dropped.

She hadn’t realized that him holding his wrist earlier was a sign of self-harm. Apparently he was worse off than she thought. Now, it’s a whole different ball game — one that can’t have secret identities interfering with. She has no choice; she needs to stay in contact with him.

He needs to be okay.

Marinette tried to wait until patrol that night. Really, she did. But she couldn’t resist zipping over to his house and knocking at his window right after his fencing practice had ended.

He jumps at the sound, quickly ushering Plagg to hide in his shirt, before turning around to look at the super-heroine.

“Hi, Ladybug!” He greets with a smile. “Anything I can help you with today?”

She takes that as an invitation to leap into his room, then she allows her yoyo to snap close as she lands in front of him.

Her hands stay in fists as she brings them up to rest at either side of her waist. She grins brightly in his direction.

“Hi, kitty!”

It’s almost comical how his smile drops.

“What?”

In lieu of a response, she drops her arms to rest at her side. Then she takes a few steps forward so that she’s standing much closer to him.

“Your father is strict… he has an assistant… he makes you take piano, fencing, Chinese lessons…”

His eyes widen slowly as she speaks, his heart beating erratically.

Ladybug scoffs, “Honestly, Adrien? You couldn’t have been more obvious.”

He gulps in horror.

Then he narrows his eyes.

“How did you know that Adrien Agreste takes Chinese lessons? I’ve never once mentioned that in an interview…”

She stiffens.

“Uh. B-because you told me before.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“As Chat,” she supplies.

The model scoffs, “I’m not Chat Noir.”

Ladybug shrugs, beginning to stroll around his room.

“Okay. So why did I see you rub your wrist in class today, hm?”

Now it’s Adrien’s turn to stiffen.

“Y-y-you’re in my class? What?” He asks incredulously.

“Yes. I’m the class president.”

She says it so confidently that it scares her. He’s sure to figure it out by now. She can’t look at him as he comes to the realization.

“But my class president is Marinette— wait.”

He huffs, smirking.

“Are you Marinette?”

Finally she casts her gaze in his direction.

“In the flesh.”

She watches as his eyes light up. He approaches her with a smile.

“Oh my god. Wait, then I’m totally okay admitting I’m Chat Noir.”

Her eyebrow raises, “Oh yeah? And if I was, say, Chloé… would you have admitted it?”

He immediately shakes his head.

Ladybug doesn’t even try to stifle her laugh.

“Spots off.”

Adrien watches in amazement as a magical, pink light engulfs her entire body, leaving Marinette Dupain-Cheng standing in his bedroom.

When she’s out of the Miraculous, the first thing Tikki does is call Plagg.

“Plagg, get out here! I need to talk to you!”

Plagg phases through Adrien’s over-shirt and glares at his counterpart.

“Well hello to you too, Sugarcube!”

The other side of the room is then occupied by two magical creatures, allowing for Adrien and Marinette to have some time alone.

An awkward tension fills the air for the first couple moments, as the two recently-outed superheroes stare at each other, letting everything sink in.

Adrien is the first to speak.

“Wow, uh… wow.”

Marinette only nods, unable to comment on his reaction as she is overflowing with concern.

“Adrien, we have to talk.”

His eyes dim and his lips curve downwards. He nods, hanging his head.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “we do.”

He leads her over to the couch and gestures for her to sit down. Then he gets situated right next to her, positioning his hands on his knees. Marinette takes a deep breath.

“So… I saw the scars in class today.”

She shifts her eyes to his left wrist, uncovered and visibly scarred. He follows her eyes, frowning when he meets their destination.

Adrien simply hums, staring at the abused skin but not saying a word.

“Why?” Marinette whispers.

He shrugs.

“I’m fine. It’s just… Chat Noir gives me freedom, but sometimes it’s not enough. I promise I don’t do it that often.”

“The amount of times you do it doesn’t matter, kitty, it’s the fact that you do.”

“What do you care anyway?” He scoffs. “You weren’t paying me much attention before I was in a sour mood that day.”

“I’ve always cared, Adrien. Always. Just because I’m super level-headed doesn’t mean that I don’t pay attention. I notice when you’re sad. I do. This time you were really worrying me, though, so I spoke up.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, “And it didn’t occur to you that maybe I wanted you to ask how I was feeling all those other times I was sad?”

She quiets at that.

“I mean, I understand that you don’t want to get in my way, but I appreciate people caring, Marinette. It means a lot to me. I feel like, if I never gave away too much information, you would still be assuming things about me. Things like, oh he’s okay because he’s loud and cocky and cracks jokes all the time — maybe it’s just a bad day.”

He shakes his head, allowing a bitter laugh to escape his raw throat.

“Every day is a bad day, Mari. I’m just a good fucking actor.”

Marinette soaks in every word like a sponge, letting each and every one hit her right where it hurts, because it’s true. He is a good actor; she’s not good at understanding the script.

I’m sorry, she wants to say. The words dance on the tip of her tongue.

He’s not finished, though.

“I want the world to suffer some days, you know? I want everyone to feel just as pressured and exploited as I have been for basically my entire life. I want all my friends with a good family to see what it’s like to live in this large mansion, with their father closed away in his room, never to be seen again by his own son who just wants him to say I love you.”

When had he started crying?

Well, the tears are flowing and he can’t stop the river now. Not when he has more to say.

“I have the power of destruction wrapped around my finger, Marinette.”

His lip trembles.

“You should be glad that I haven’t tried to Cataclysm any houses, or street lights, or cars, or busses, or-or-or—“

He breaks.

He meant to keep going — to finish his sentence — but he breaks.

There’s not much more that Marinette can do, other than pull him into her arms and whisper soothing words of reassurance as he sobs uncontrollably.

She rubs his back, softly shh-ing him as he lets it all out of his system. She allows him to drown for the time being, all while reassuring that she’ll be there to pull him back to shore.

Each one of his sniffles was a subtle reminder that she was there for him; that no matter if his father comes around to finally paying him some attention, or not, he will always have her shoulder to cry on. Simultaneously, though, her heart twists at how unhealthily he’s been dealing with the trauma.

She had heard stories upon stories of teenagers resorting to self-harm because they had no other outlet, and she had been so thankful that no one she knew had taken those measures. Now, a statistic has become personal. She would be lying if she said that she knew how to handle it.

But she knew that no matter the circumstance, it had to be dealt with.

That meant getting her crush some professional help. A therapist, some medication, and plenty of cuddles. (Cuddles arescientifically proven to relieve anxiety, right? It’s a professional technique).

A quiet sniffle breaks her out of her thoughts. She glances down at Adrien as he slightly pulls away from her hold, eyes red and puffy.

Maybe that can all be dealt with later.

She ruffles his hair.

“Let’s go get some ice cream, yeah?”

Adrien peers up at her in confusion.

She just smiles and wriggles out of their position on his couch, then stands up with her hands on her hips.

“Ice cream always cheers me up. We definitely have to talk more about this later, among other things, but I can’t bear to see you sad any longer. So let’s go!”

The left corner of his mouth perks up, albeit only for a mere second.

“My father—“

“To hell with you father,” Marinette reaches down to grab his hand and hoists him up from the couch.

“We are going to get ice cream whether he likes it or not. You need to do what makes YOU happy, ‘kay?”

He concedes.

After ice cream, they return to the bakery and consult with Tom and Sabine. It had taken a lot of convincing on Marinette’s part to get Adrien to agree, but from there began the journey of his recovery.

They explained his home situation and mental health struggles in full, only leaving out the part about them fighting akumas. Both adults had immediately started searching for a good therapist (and lawyer) that would help Adrien get on the right track.

In the end, Adrien was glad that they had told her parents. Their concern for him and dedication to his cause filled his heart with long lost hope and parental love. It had been so long since he felt cared for. And now that he’s felt it once again, he’s not ready to let it go.

Thank goodness the Dupain-Chengs’ weren’t going to let him go so easily.

It was a unanimous decision that, until he feels comfortable going back to the mansion, he would stay. He didn’t want to burden them, but they insisted. So he had no choice but to accept the offer.

Before he even knew it, another two weeks had passed. A new routine was broken in by the members of the D.C. household — Marinette was getting real annoyed with Adrien’s constant comparisons of her last name initials to Marvel (her father had taken a liking to his puns, however, so now she just lived in constant pain) — and suddenly it was like he had always been there.

His first therapy session wasn’t great. He was riddled with anxiety (no pun intended) and Doctor Benson was too nice for his liking. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t like it. It was just so off-putting, considering he wasn’t used to being treated with such kindness even by his own father.

Doctor Benson told him that a lot of the things he’s been experiencing aren’t normal, but his response to that trauma is. At first he had been confused when he was told that his father was emotionally neglectful and verbally abusive. He didn’t understand what his father was doing wrong. Once Doctor Benson explained that, “Abuse is a violent, repetitive behavior that has a negative mental, emotional, and/or physical impact on the victim,” it became more clear.

It’s still a concept that he’s getting used to — that he’s a victim of abuse. The thought makes his skin crawl and a shiver run up his spine because he never considered himself to be part of a statistic. Now that he knows he is, he’s not sure what to do.

Marinette keeps telling him, “Even agreeing to go to therapy is a huge step in the right direction, and I’m so proud of you.” Then she goes on to tell him just how special he is to her and how important him and his life is and all of this crap about how he’s worth more than he thinks.

He has to believe her, too, because she’s the one that found him at his worst and instead of judging him, picked him off the ground and took initiative. She’s the one that brought him to her parents, helped him hide from his father, and even got him a part-time job at the bakery. It’s only temporary until he is able to access his earnings, but he will admit that he likes it way better than modeling; that had just been because his father wanted him to, anyways.

Everyone tells him time and time again that he should not be living for his father. He wants to disagree, because that’s what he’s been conditioned to do for so long, but he ultimately chooses not to. Because they’re right; he’s a young adult who should have the freedom to make his own decisions.

In the end, if he’s not happy, there’s always more opportunities. He knows that now.

And there’s no better way to figure out what he wants than to explore, and reach out for help.

A black cat and a ladybug sat atop a roof.

Marinette has her head tucked into the crook of her partner’s neck, eyes closed as she feels the wind blow past her. Adrien’s head lays on top of hers’ and eyes are trained on the full moon above them.

It had been a long day; one akuma attack and three tests, plus their friends wanted to hang out. Exhaustion had taken over hours before, and sleep was creeping up on them. They cherish the view of Paris at night while it lasts, before they have to go home and do it all again the next day.

When she lifts her head to look at her favorite kitty, she’s relieved to see a soft smile resting on his features.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

He glances at her before turning back to the stars, then hesitates.

“Can I tell you a riddle?”

Her face pales and stomach plummets.

“N-no, I don’t want to play this game again.”

“I promise its a good one, nothing too sad.”

They lock eyes. She can tell there is sincerity within those dark green orbs, so she reluctantly nods.

Adrien licks his lips, not breaking his gaze.

“I visit you every night, even if you don’t call me. I’m lost every day. What am I?”

Jokingly, she wants to say “Chat Noir” but their identities are known now, and she sees him every day (so, admittedly, it wouldn’t be that good of a joke). Then she looks up at the sky and she has her answer.

“The stars,” she whispers.

She’s not looking at him, but she can almost hear his smile widen. So she looks back to him, because she loves to see her kitty happy.

Sure enough, a grin — genuine, not forced — is playing on his lips. It’s human nature to copy social expressions, so she lets her mouth curve into a matching grin.

Then she leans in.

Their smiles fade as they inch closer, focused on the next task at hand. His gaze drops to her pink lips, and she stares into his eyes. She can see the thirst, the want, but she can also see his hesitance.

Experimentally, she pauses to see if he’ll close the gap, but he simply stops in accordance with her. She wants this so bad, but he’s very shy when it comes to romance; despite being so outwardly confident as Chat Noir.

He had told her that it was a mask to hide how scared he truly was. His advances towards her were genuine, although deep down, he was afraid of rejection (to which she will forever feel guilty for putting him through). He wanted to break his façade sometimes, but he chose not to for the sake of not worrying her. The media might have noticed his change in behavior, too; granted, he never cared what the public thought of him anyways.

So, to save them both the trouble, she takes the leap and closes the gap, capturing his lips in a fluid movement.

It’s pure ecstasy; electricity pulses through his veins, but at the same time… he’s calm. He’s not sure how to describe the feeling, in all honesty. It’s just perfect.

Well, not perfect, he corrects himself. Enjoyable, but not perfect.

They don’t move in perfect sync and his lips are chapped so she’s probably wondering why the heck are his lips so dry?and her mouth keeps opening and he isn’t sure if it’s a mistake or if he should do something but he’s not ready for the tongue yet, and so their heads are tilting at an awkward angle trying to make sense of the situation —

— but she smells like pastries and her lips are so soft and he can’t help but crack his eyes open because she is so beautiful in every single way oh my god I love her and nothing makes this better than cupping her face with his right hand and feeling just how smooth her skin is which calms him immensely and he just doesn’t want this to end.

When they finally pull away, with heavy breaths and big smiles, little giggles and red cheeks… he’s happy.

Maybe he’s not perfect. Neither is she. Nobody is, and Adrien is just starting to understand that.

Years of conditioning is hard to unlearn, but he is so grateful to have a support system he can count on. Marinette’s parents honorarily adopting him as one of their own, Doctor Benson offering coping mechanisms he hadn’t even known existed, his bodyguard protecting him from the  father  sperm donor he’s still afraid to talk to (one day soon, he’ll have to, but he’s planning on crossing that bridge when he gets there), Ms. Bustier’s unwavering faith in his abilities, and his friends’ insistence that he is more than enough — all of this support is overwhelming, to say the least, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Most importantly, there’s Marinette. She has been his rock for the past three years and it’s more true now than it ever was. She is family, in every sense of the word.

“Hey, Mari?” He says quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, Chaton?”

The nickname rolls off her tongue in a teasing manner, and he has to laugh.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

[barzzal]

I loved your last blurb 😭 would you consider doing a part two? Maybe reader takes their son and is gone by the time mat gets back

read part one and part three here

maybe it was the fight or flight thing. maybe it was everything mat said. either of those, you just didn’t care. not anymore.

as you carefully put your sleeping son in his car seat, all equipped with his picture books and stuffed animals, you place his bag on the other side, making sure you have everything you need.

it was a good hour after mat left but his words were still stuck on your head. you weren’t the kind of person to bail on the people you love especially when it’s your marriage with mat. sure, you fight every now and then, but isn’t that how marriages are supposed to work? you fight and argue but make up in the very least.

in your case, however, was it still worth making up?

the only thing you know now is the fact that you couldn’t bear to see your husband. you weren’t in your right mind to face him. much more fight him again.

you can’t help but think about all the unsaid maybe’s you didn’t know you had in the first place.

maybe it was all too much. maybe all the changes happening in your lives all at once has been all too overwhelming for him. maybe you had mistaken the joy theo had brought when he came for something that would later blow up on your face— exactly like what happened an hour ago.

you kiss your son, still unfazed with his eyes shut in deep slumber before you climb onto the driver’s seat and start the car.

as you pull out of the driveway, your quiet house stares right back at you as if it was the ghost of what had been for you and for mathew. maybe he was right. but until then, leaving would be a better choice than admitting he was right all along.

mat has spent the entire drive thinking about the things he said out of spite. to say that he wasn’t thinking was an understatement. he didn’t know what got into him not until he heard his words out loud.

he knew that he hurt you and he knew it would take a lot for him to make it up to you. he hated himself for letting his pride and ego get a better hold of him, making him forget what it meant to have you to come home to.

as he stare at the pub across where he was parked, his work phone catches his attention. he hasn’t been able to check it in a while being that the boys often hit him up on his personal phone and the two of you didn’t really need to communicate through that phone because let’s be honest, you live under the same roof; and mat has gotten used to the tedious routine that the two of you have for most days.

when he scrolls through his messages, he sees a number of unopened voicemails from you from over a week ago. he must have been too busy practicing to even notice.

your voice embraces the insides of his car as he tapped on the latest one.

it was dated two days ago, when the two of you fought about him not being able to attend one of theo’s after school events.

“hey, babe. i– i just wanted to say i’m sorry about last night. and i’m sorry i had to go to work so early. but don’t worry, i already dropped theo at the daycare, and there’s also some breakfast left for you on the table.” mat had to wait for a little while for there was a sheer silence behind the call, assuming that you were off driving to work at the time.

“anyway, know that i didn’t mean any of the things i said. you’re a good father, matty. and you’re the greatest husband anyone could ever hope for. i’m beyond lucky to have you. let’s... let’s try not to fight anymore, okay? i love you.”

he lets out a deep sigh before moving onto the next one which was dated from last week, when he forgot to stop by the grocery store to pick up some fruits that theo wanted and of course, the dinner you had told him to make because you still had a lot going on at work.

that night, when you came home after having an absolute bad day, you saw mat lounging on the couch and with theo beside him eating all sorts of junk that would only make him all hyped up to even care about going to bed.

at the sight of your husband with a cold beer in his hand, the other caressing your uncleaned little boy, you failed to contain your bottled frustrations and ended up pouring it all over mat.

“honey, could you pick up some raspberries on your way home? i’m quite stumped at work right now and i don’t think i can make dinner— so could you pick up something off for theo? don’t worry about me, i’ll just grab some on the drive. please don’t skip dinner, alright? and don’t forget to drink that green thing you asked me to make for your morning practice tomorrow. i’ll see you boys in an hour or two.”

as soon as he got over all the mails you’ve left, the realization of who you really were in his life hit him. perhaps, even a little too hard– just enough to make him rev up the engine to turn his way back home.

you weren’t just his wife or someone he comes home to after a taxing day. you were y/n. the glue that holds everything together. the reason behind why despite having a kid around, he still manages to do dumb and stupid things and act like he was still some big-shot bachelor in the city because you, the woman he promised to have and to hold, was doing everything in her might just to make ends meet, just to make sure the family you both once dreamed of having wouldn’t end up spiraling like everyone else’s.

too bad mat has only realized this now, for as he opened the front door, instead of the well-lit room that used to welcome him everytime he came home, was instead replaced by a pitch black hallway with a deafening silence mathew was definitely not fond of.

“babe?” he calls out the moment he turns on the lights.

he starts walking towards the living room, seeing everything still in place exactly how he left it a while ago. when mathew came to the kitchen, instead of the image of you making dinner, the sight of your silverware neatly placed on the corner of the island you left to dry was what greeted him.

“baby?” he calls for you again, this time a little louder, panic evidently rising from within him.

mat strides his way, almost running for the stairs.

he opened theo’s room, all the same, untouched and well-kept. but how could it be his son’s bedroom when neither him nor his clothes were in sight?

sure it was a dumb thing for him to do but he still did it anyway. the pang in his chest begins to linger everytime he calls for your name and you weren’t there to answer, to come running in his arms like you used to with your tousled hair pushed back into a messy bun, your mom clothes, and your all too familiar scent. 

no matter how hard mat tried, he had nothing.

once he got into your room, instead of you spending the night reading on your side of the bed with only your night light on, what mat saw was the horror of not having you around anymore.

your closet was empty, and so was your work desk. all were alienated by the sight of a y/n-less house.

mat couldn’t do anything else as he failed to support himself and fell onto the bed, staring at the whole room— quiet and so not like the one he was used to seeing.

the walls stare right back at him rather mockingly. as if it knew how fucked up his life was about to become. as if it knew what thoughts mat had running in his head at the moment.

mathew anxiously buried his face in his palm, unsure of what to do next. the only thing going on his mind, if you might ask, is much like what you had in yours, playing like the same old busted vinyl record.

this house will never be a home unless you were in it.