#nine: never mind post cancelled. fuck you

[spark-circuit]

me writing a hypothetical short story with my funny main four Lob Corp Captains team (of them dealing with a Pink Shoes possession), leading into them really digging into their dynamics and goals (Rema sees them as a family and it's implied the others do too - even Nine), leading into meta-narrative on the City (Nine musing about what constitutes 'freedom' in the City), looping back into the usual chicanery they're known for (Nine helping an injured Rema up after the fight, Rema teases him about having emotions for once, Nine promptly getting annoyed and dropping his injured ass back on the floor). it is 4:22am where i am btw :)

[polyhexian]

Actually fuck it it's 1am and I'm ready to- well, not trauma dump, but I'm gonna be mad about shit that's not polite to talk about in public or whatever. Hi everyone welcome to my transformers shit post blog

Anyway. So most people are not aware I have siblings because I never talk about them and that's because I haven't willingly spoken to my sister in seven years because she's an abusive narcissist and out of her fucking mind violent. But that's not important I bitch about her lying about having fuckin lupus despite the fact it's already killed enough of our family as it is. My brother I talk about even less and you know why??? There's literally no way to talk about him with modern social politics without pissing someone off. My brother is six years younger than me, low functioning down's syndrome/autistic. He's 23 now, nonverbal. I changed diapers until I moved out of my parents house at 17. 24/7 supervision, radio ankle monitor for safety, blablabla. He's visibly disabled. You look at him and immediately know he's disabled so like. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of places I've been kicked out of with him

Every time I see people get into fucking identity politics about like "low/high functioning" hurting their feelings it makes my lip curl, and I know I'm irrationally mad about it but like. What else am I supposed to be? Chill? Did you know "disability" is only for people who weren't born disabled? You only get disability if you're able to work and lose that ability. If you were born disabled? Go fuck yourself. There's programs and whatever but they all fucking suck donkey shit. My family didn't get a cent from the government to help take care of a severely disabled child until he was fucking nine. My brother is deaf AND blind. Like. Come on.

And finally when we did it's still like. Fucking nothing. At one point it was like... I dunno, 600 a month plus some shit like boxes of useless bargain bin diapers? Most importantly we got a certain amount of hours from like a medical care facility. Like, special babysitters, essentially. Fifteen hours a week maybe. Like great thanks that's super helpful. I was scrubbing shit off the walls when I was twelve. Thanks for the fucking help. My brother is difficult and strong and can be occasionally violent when he doesn't get his way. We went through every goddamn care worker in town. I remember at 15, after my dad left, my mom was like. Too depressed to do shit and so it fell to me, terminally adultified child. And because my brother is so difficult the hourly pay for working with him was higher than other clients, so their workers were always super interested in working with him. But I'd answer the door and I'm a tired angry fifteen year old and I know they're going to know the second they look at him why he pays so well and that it's still not worth it to them. So I used to open the door and say hi, my parents aren't coming to meet you, I'm in charge and I know how to forge my mom's signature. I'm tired and I don't want to waste my time with a bullshit interview. Come in, meet him, and if you decide this isn't going to work within like five minutes, that's great, fine, I get it, whatever. I'll sign off on your sheet that you were here for the full hour, so you can just go home and get paid for coming and I don't have to play grown up pretend bullshit for an hour of my time. My mom HATED that I did this but like nine times out of ten they left after fifteen minutes. They weren't worth my fucking time.

Eventually we did legitimately. Straight up run out of people willing to work with him. The company didn't send us anyone new because there wasn't anyone and because we didn't use the fifteen hours a week we got for two weeks in a row the government cancelled his entire benefit system and put him back on the waiting list. The one he was on for nine years, remember? We had to sue them over it to try and keep from losing the little they gave us and the company was so fucking butthurt about it that they called cps on us. Childish bullshit.

I've been kicked out of restaurants and movie theatres and stores and fuckin. Roller rinks or arcades or whatever kinds of places exist because he's disabled and scary and a lot of work and loud and messy and people don't want him around. It makes me bitter and angry and venomous. You wouldn't even recognize me around him. I know I can be a bitch on the internet sometimes but irl I'm soft and timid a lot of the time. I don't like talking to strangers. But you drop me in a room with my brother and I turn into a snarling fucking animal and the second I sense disgust I'm going to make a fucking scene. I've yelled at people in restaurants. What the fuck are you staring at?? I'm so sorry, is my brother enjoying his meal disturbing you? Good thing I don't give a shit. I'll embarrass myself and everyone else in the room without giving a single shit. One time I literally stormed on stage during a high schools talent show for disabled students to scream at a teacher backstage. No subtlety. No politeness. I stood up and I climbed up on the stage and stormed through the curtain. I can't fucking control myself. The anger has built up over the decades and it spills out. How fucking dare you.

And what am I supposed to do with that? That's not inspirational. It's not polite. It's not a nice story. It's "I love my brother but he's incredibly difficult and the government and society as a whole has gone so far out of their way to make keeping him safe and happy extraordinarily difficult that I'm always ready to get in a fight over it with anyone who gives me an excuse." People don't like stories like that. I don't want custody of him when my parents die and every single qualified care facility and group home in the state has refused him because he's categorized as "dangerous" because he can be physically difficult. So he just gets completely abandoned by the world who says wow that sucks but tough shit. Maybe just die about it?

I literally can't post photos of me with my brother without people thinking I'm fucking like baiting or whatever the fuck, like, white knighting my disabled brother for sympathy. As if I'm not just memeing with my family or some shit. And then I can't complain or I'm an ableist. It's easier if I just shut up and don't talk about it, isn't it?

Internet disability politics doesn't and has never given a single rancid shit about low functioning disabled people. The absolute zero sum most at risk people in society. What am I supposed to do when my parents die? I literally cannot take care of him physically or financially and he can't leave the state without losing benefits. I don't live there anymore. I have to uproot everything and go home? Or what, turn him over to the state so he can deal with the, what, 65% chance of sexual abuse that happens to nonverbal low functioning disabled people? Be fed dog kibble and left to rot in a piss stained mattress for days? I've seen these places. He can't talk so they can do anything they want to him. No one is going to stick up for him. No one cares.

It boils my fucking blood just to think about. I don't want to hear any woke ass takes about functioning labels from someone on Twitter if they've never materially contributed to the well being of a low functioning disabled person in their fucking life. Those terms aren't for you asshole, they're for them, because they need more help and protection. Tired of trying to keep up with the politics and labels placed upon my family member by people with no stake in the suffering at the end of the stick they're poking him with. It's all so easy in theoreticals but what if "what happens to my brother if my parents die" is a question that's loomed over your head for a decade without an answer? I'll listen to your thoughts on the matter when you Paypal me ten dollars so I can send him some more scarves to stim with.

People hate messy uninspiring stories so they would rather you just shut up and stop reminding them about it. Literally I think if I still lived down there and one more restaurant manager asked me to leave I would fucking stab them

[sibsteria]

Editor to Editor

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

The office hummed with white noise, distant chatter and the scent of purified coffee. The passing by of equipment loaded trolleys and clipboards, crossed the scene.

Members of the crew, seated at their desktops, logging in and logging out, day to day. But to say this was a miserable time would be unjust and untrue.

Working under Mythical had become such a blessing, without its curse. As the beloved audience sometimes got the chance to look through the metaphorical windows, at the behind the scenes tomfoolery through their screens, through the livestreams.

A tour around the sets, the costuming, the editors.

Upon the latter, the fans had favourites but everyone was well-liked.

A frequented discussion, dragging through twitter threads or tumblr posts was the dynamic between Spencer and Y/n.

A yin and yang, they had layers, yet it all seemed so simple.

Y/n had been around for nine years, watching the comings and goings of cast and crew. Spencer had joined two years later, giving her the urge to hold her job even closer to her heart. Alike Spencer, Y/n does more than edit, such as guest appearances, hosting, even getting her ideas for videos on screen.

She was taken by Spencer, he had a sort of sedated wild card personality. She, a bubbly caregiver.

At first, it was a meaningless adoration, a schoolgirl crush.

As time passed and they became familiar, she fell into a deep realisation that maybe this feeling wasn’t going to pass.

After a couple of months shooting shy glances, which was a major contrast to her extroverted self, longing stares began to take the lead.

She found it completely natural being around him, as if all the awkwardness in the world just never existed.

He, to no surprise, had fallen down the hole of admiring her and subconsciously praising her every move. Almost drunk on the feeling of being around her.

It took a while for each to admit exactly what each other felt, but when they confronted it, it all made so much sense.

He was striking in his beauty and his nature, his conversations seemed like a calm tide, never racking her brain to the point of exhaustion.

The simplest of touches, drove them crazy. The subtle gliding of his padded fingertips across her exposed skin, a flirty expression. The gentle brushing of his rogue curls, straying from their place, she fixes them with care.

The shy and intimate, almost unsure eye contact, prolonged as an alternative to confessing their feelings.

Their heartbeats, accelerated, both fearing each other could hear the extent thumping out of their chests.

It took him, in the punch of a seconds deliberation, to push himself. He went for it. He kissed her. Spencer’s insecurities swimming and stabbing his brain as if they were needlepoint, his short lived bravery, for a second faltered. Until his logic and sense kicked in, she reciprocated. She was kissing him back just as hard, arguably even harder. Her hands wound around his tight rigged curls, urging to get as close as she could, fearing the moment could slip away as quick as it came.

His nose exhales heavily, the moment hadn’t passed, they both allowed it to settle into bliss. An unspoken understanding. The months, years of repression, culminating this singular moment. His hands found comfort on her flaming cheeks, a bold blush painting across her face, a beautiful renaissance.

He’s eager, leaning to the passion so much it had toppled her further onto the plush couch they were seated on. The velvet of his lips, connecting and moulding against her own, led her into a dizzy state of mind. They were both fuelling their healthy egos in a way that mellowed them.

They cancelled out each other’s toxic habits, their flaws equally accepted and adored.

They broke apart, unwillingly, her eyebrows softened at the pure sight of the man.

“I…” Spencer can’t find the words he’s looking for.

“I love you, seriously, it was only a matter of time until I just fucking kissed you myself. You drive me nuts.” Y/n gives him a coy smile.

“Me too.” He looks down, surprisingly shy. Y/n picks up her unoccupied hand, placing it on his arm, she traces his tattoos as a sign of comfort.

She sits herself up, pressing the sides of their noses together, giving him a small and chaste kiss. She takes her hands again, gently raking her fingernails against his scalp, for a second. She travels down, brushing through his soft, untamed hair.

Which brings us to the present.

The amount of fan edits created due to the suspected relationship of Spencer Agnew and Y/n L/n were endless.

The longing looks, edited to the best of the audio, the dragging touches.

They would soon come to publicise it, much to the public’s excitement.

It was euthanasia utopia.

[amchara]

Hideaway (Stella/Beatrix)

Stella of Solaria, Beatrix of Eraklyon (Stella/Beatrix, Stellatrix)

Wordcount: 1,157 words

Rating: Teen

Summary: Post-Season Two, Beatrix has been brought back, albeit with complications… but this might be the push that get her and Stella to finally admit their feelings for each other.

Notes: Taking a breather from my main TSC fixation to focus on my poor, cancelled-before-it's-time magical girl show and the fantastic potential that was Stellatrix. 😔

---------

She can still taste dirt at the back of her mouth. Disgusting  

Beatrix lights another cigarette, and idly watches the tendrils of smoke wisp away into chilly air, into a clear evening where the stars shone bright above. 

The press of earth weighing on her. Muffled voices speaking rapidly but rapidly becoming clearer. A magic breath forced, unwillingly, into her lungs. A desperate thud as her heart stammers back to life. 

The breeze picks up, blowing the dead leaves littering the balcony floor around in a swirl. She leans forward slightly from her perch, watching as a few escape to the distant ground below.  

“What are you doing?” 

Stella’s voice as always, precise and full of underlying command, implicit that whoever was about to answer would do so, immediately. 

Beatrix doesn’t turn. She blows out another smoke ring and traces it with her fingers. 

“Cats are supposed to have nine lives. When they come back, I wonder if they have the urge to test that theory again.” She stands up, watching as ashes fall, winking out as they disappear into the darkness. 

“Get down from there,” Stella hisses. “You are not a cat.” 

Beatrix moves along the narrow beam, and hops down lightly, in front of the other girl. She drops her cigarette and rubs it out. 

She raises her chin up, meeting cool blue eyes that somehow, confusingly, radiate a heat which she’s seen often, having cultivated it before, usually among Specialists. 

Her traitorous heart almost skips a beat.   

Stella is wearing some ridiculous floaty magenta silk nightgown, because of course she is, with a light housecoat wrapped around. As Stella hugs herself, Beatrix wills herself to keep eyes upwards, to not draw attention to the other effect the cold air is having on Stella, almost exactly at Beatrix’s eye level. 

“No. I am not a cat,” she replies. “But I am allowed to occasionally leave the fucking house, right? At least within a certain distance.” She tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice but some slips through. 

Stella’s eyes soften. “I know it must be hard but… we think we’ve almost found a solution that will keep the spell working beyond the property boundaries.”

“Joy, I can’t wait. Or maybe you’ll stumble onto a proper resurrection spell that will keep my heart beating permanently?” 

The empty feeling and the blackness closing in. Waking up back in the kitchen, her head in Stella’s lap, Sky looming awkwardly, her sisters crowded around, taking her pulse and muttering to each other. Being told that there was a slight… problem to the plan and they’d have to stay to figure how they could keep her alive beyond their powers’ boundaries. 

Stella’s lips thin. “I hope so,” she says quietly. Her head turns slightly to the open door back inside, and the quiet darkness. They appear to be the only ones awake out of their wannabe circle of necromancers.  

Beatrix gives her a bright smile. “Well, in the meantime, I’ll just contemplate my mortality, shall I?” She waves a hand. “And don’t mind me but if this resurrection is just temporary… for a little while, I’d rather enjoy the breeze on my skin, and a cigarette.” 

She instantly regrets the flippancy as Stella’s eyes shutter down, and she nods. “Of course-” And close enough that her silk flutters across Beatrix’s skin, as she leaves her, the night once again seeming dark and endless.  

Beatrix stands outside for a few minutes. She weighs up the pros and cons, before swiftly following Stella inside.

She’s never been one to hesitate before. Why start now?  

Stella isn’t back in her bed but instead is sitting in an armchair, reading a heavy tome. She’s backlit by a nearby lamp and Beatrix takes a moment to imprint the delicate halo of hair, the shadows touching her jawline, the grace in every single fucking movement of the Solarian princess, into her memory.  

In some ways, Beatrix hopes her stay is temporary. Really, it’s embarrassing how caught up she is. Or maybe dying makes a girl particularly horny. 

Stella looks up as she enters, and whatever she’s about to say, appears to get caught in her throat. She just looks at Beatrix steadily. Waiting. 

“You said… I had you. And I know that I fucked up. We’ve gone over that,” Beatrix says carefully. She takes a few steps inside Stella’s room. Waiting for the admonition of transgressing into an area she’s not welcome. 

It doesn’t come and she feels emboldened. “Not fully sorted it out, I know. But… I might not be here for long.” She’s made her way across the room and this time, she’s the one looking down at Stella. 

“Don’t say that.” Stella’s voice is low and harsh. 

Steeling her nerve, she slides onto Stella’s lap. There’s a moment of fear, like she’s taken a step off steady ground but almost like clockwork, she feels a reassuring arm around her waist, steadying her. 

“What are you doing?” Even as she questions, Stella’s hands are tightening, grounding her. She leans forward and their foreheads touch, and in the quiet she can hear their breathing pattern align.

“I can taste it still in my mouth. The grave dirt.” She feels a quiver in her response and hates it. But it appears to have had the desired effect on her target. She lets her fingers drift upwards along Stella’s arms, along her collarbone- along her jawline. 

Beatrix pulls back, watching Stella’s breath hitch. “Bea…” Her fingers lift to push strands of hair back from Stella’s face and there’s a slight shiver as Beatrix tucks them behind her ear. 

“Help me feel alive,” she whispers. “Even if it’s just for tonight- if it’s all the time I have.”

There’s the slightest chuckle from Stella, and her grip slackens. “Even after everything- you choose manipulation,” she says, shaking her head and there’s a disappointed twist to her mouth. 

And Beatrix feels the endless night press in, outside that warm lamplight glow. “I didn’t-” she protests.

But even as she tries to extract herself, Stella raises a hand and almost roughly, pulls by the nape of her neck, towards her. Their gaze meets.  

“Please, I know your tricks. But I also-” Stella’s eyes are burning bright. “I don’t care. Because I-” she shakes her head. “I missed you . And I’ve gone through hell, bringing you back, so far. And we will get you back. All the way.” Her voice is fierce. “But in the meantime. Just ask me. ”

Silence dominates the room. And then Beatrix whispers. “Kiss me. Please, Stella.” 

She feels the sweetest relief as their lips meet; in a chaste kiss that quickly deepens into something more. And if it doesn’t quite chase away the cold tendrils of the grave, it’s at least a temporary balm. Beatrix relaxes into Stella’s embrace, a sensation of having won a prize she had been chasing for a long time.

[seething-fire]

A New Level of Hurt 

Logan's friends keep letting him down

Logan Sanders angst

Warnings: swearing, anxiety, self deprecating thoughts 

Word count: 778

Incoming text from Virgil: 

Hey! Sorry that this is so last minute, but we have to cancel, Lo :( Something just came up… We’ll see you next time tho 

His phone hit the bed with a soft thump. Again? His friends usually canceled the plans he made, but no matter how many times it happened, he was still let down. Why did he even try anymore? 

Collapsing back onto the mattress, he stared at the ceiling. They had no problem following through with the plans they made, but when it came to him, there were so many painfully comical excuses. What was it about him? Was he actually as annoying as he thought? Was he a damper on their fun? What was the problem? 

Mustering up just barely enough politeness to reply, he picked up his phone. 

You sent: 

No problem, Virgil. See you another time. :) 

He couldn’t identify the feeling building in his chest, but he knew it was uncomfortable. Picturing them all sitting around Virgil’s phone, laughing at how gullible he was, the feeling grew worse. 

“Logan’s so fucking stupid! I can’t believe he actually thinks we want to hang out with him.” 

“When is he going to stop inviting us over? I’m starting to feel bad for him.” 

“I’m surprised he keeps believing our excuses, they’re getting pretty bad. But he’s so naive, I bet he actually thinks something happened!” 

His breathing was becoming heavy, and the room started to feel like it was closing in. His friends must hate him, that’s the only explanation, right? 

“No- logically speaking, anything could’ve happened, they’re most likely telling the truth, there’s no need to get worked up.” He thought. 

However, even as logical as he was, nothing could stop the negative thoughts from overtaking the rational ones. 

Tears were collecting in his eyes, but he was trying as hard as possible to resist them. This was such a dumb thing to get upset over. He should’ve known. How could he have been so stupid? 

If Roman, Patton, and Virgil abandoned him, he’d be alone. They were his only friends. Would he be able to deal with being friendless? 

He suddenly remembered some advice he’d once given to Virgil. If you’re anxious, you should find a healthy distraction. 

Looking around his dimly lit room, desperately trying to find something to take his mind off the disappointment and hurt, he came up empty handed. 

His phone made a noise, pulling his attention toward the spot where it had been abandoned. That could be an adequate distraction, right?

Scrolling through the various apps, he opened Instagram. Bad choice. 

The first picture on his feed was of his friends together. It hadn’t been posted today, but last night. 

They were standing in front of an old building downtown, dressed to the nines. 

The caption read: 

Friends who slay together, stay together. 

He didn’t even have to look at the user to know it came from Roman.

Logan figured they hung out without him, and that was okay, but actually seeing it in front of him was a different story. 

Without even thinking about it, his fingers scrolled to the next picture. Thankfully, neither Virgil nor Patton had posted pictures, but he still wished he hadn’t seen it at all. 

He envisioned them mocking him again. Walking around downtown in suits and ties, talking about how glad they were it was just the three of them. 

It was safe to say this “healthy” distraction was not working. He put his phone on silent, shoved it into a drawer, and sat on the floor. 

He’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. That was the only word he could think of to describe this horrible feeling that had made a home in his stomach and now his chest. As he laid back, he realized he’d been shaking and sweating. The hardwood floor felt benevolent on his bare arms, so he removed his shirt in hopes of cooling down faster. 

The thing was, he was let down constantly. It had been happening his entire life, this was something he’d gotten used to. Why was this time any different? 

Did this confirm everything he’d ever thought about himself? 

Maybe he actually was a horrible person who wasn’t worth anyone’s time or attention. That’s why he was always alone. 

He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of those thoughts. 

“I think this is a new level of hurt.” He whispered to himself while watching the ceiling fan spin circles over his head.

Watching the fan spin, he was growing sleepy. 

His eyes closed and he felt himself begin to fall asleep. 

[notasiren21]

26 for Lukanette WIPs please. :)

26. Party Crasher!Luka

I FUCKED UP AND JUST WROTE IT I GUESS???

Party Crasher

-Lukanette oneshot

“You mean to tell me Agreste ditched you? After all that pleading to let him take you to the party for your successful launch line for next season, he’s ditched you?”

“Kagami, don’t kill him.”

“Fine, remind me why I can’t though? This is such an ass move of his if he’s trying to prove he’s the one for you.”

“Because,” Marinette grits out, faking a toothy smile to a work couple that waves from passing, “I want to castrate and kill him myself.”

Kagami laughs roughly in surprise, “Why the castration?”

“So I can fit his small ass into the tightest pair of skinny jeans we have for our tall teenage girls.” The not so stoic girl sips on her wine, pleased with her friend’s rage. “I told him I haven’t been interested since we were 14, but him thinking I’ll forgive him if I even had a silver of interest in dating him? Fuck him.”

“Or,” Kagami drawls, long nails tapping the stem of her glass as she leans to peer over her friend’s shoulder, “You could fuck him instead?”

Mari gasps in offense, “I am NOT trying for a one night stand, no matter what you guys say.”

“No, you little mouse,” she admonishes, fully heartedly agreeing with the sentiment, “I just mean your big and handsome protective snake is here to save the day.”

Marinette’s mind took a second longer to click the pieces together, trying to make sense of Kagami’s nicknames for her friend group, before her heart thudded and she slowly turned.

There, passing by the models who had walked in Marinette’s designs and batted their false lashes at the rockstar, was Luka Couffaine.

Dressed to the nines in a very punk like and sophisticated way that revealed he very much wanted to impress her and did in fact listen to her fashion advice. Black skinny jeans only he could pull off, high top converse and a white button up with a black vest to overlay it. The cheeky and handsome bastard forgoing the tie to leave one too many buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos.

Oh, on the life of his cat Sass was she proud of him.

And maybe drooling just a little?

He approached her, a sly smile working its way to his lips as he eyed her up and down, eyes shining bright at her black low cocktail that she paired with navy blue heels.

So maybe she sometimes used Luka as a whole for inspiration.

He raised a hand, finger wrapping around a loose curled tendril out of an elegantly messy low bun, “I thought it was the models you were supposed to make the stars of the show.”

“Had I known you were gonna show up, I would’ve worn one of my bests here.”

His hand froze, “This isn’t your best? You tease,” he broke out in a grin. His hand moved further, thumbing at the collection of piercings in her ear he accompanied her with to get years ago. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Well, I’m suddenly glad I can only acknowledge this as awkward and not feel it.” Kagami noted into her class. Her phone buzzed, electing a sigh from her as she began turning. “Have fun, my mother decided to remind me why this wine was a good idea to have before she came.”

She watched her friend walk away, her other -her best friend and other half, remained taking her in and stroking the soft spot under her ear he once claimed with a mark-

The one time they admitted their crushes and strong attraction towards the other the night before he left for tour years ago.

It was the only time Luka had indulged himself in his wants and desires, the only time he had asked to and still provided her with an out. And now he still remains far off in her memories, even as he stands in front of her with that look on his face years later.

“How did you,” she swallows when his soft gaze flicks back up to her eyes with his full attention. “How did you get in? It’s a ticket only event.”

He shrugged, turning to offer her an arm and walk around. “I may or may not have seen Adrien’s post about his mom and dad going to a gala event and him going to see his cousin there. Seems like that took precedence I guess.”

Marinette huffed low, “Félix has been in town for three weeks. Adrien and I had lunch with him the other day.”

Luka stilled as a busboy stopped in front of them, offering them glasses of champagne. Luka’s nose twitched, then his lip as he turned away with a polite smile. Marinette shook her head in turn as well.

“You know you don’t have to pass just because of me, right?”

“Hey, we do this ‘young 20 some year olds unable to drink alcohol’ in solidarity together.” He cracked a smile at that, “Soda is my alcohol.”

“Alright, you can be an honorary member of the alcohol intolerance club.” Luka laughed when she hummed gleefully. “Dork.”

“Nerd.”

“So, back on topic, Adrien just really had no excuse then?”

“Ha, no, even his dad stopped by an hour ago to congratulate me and get press photos done to promote the line. All his son did for me was send a text with a sad face attached to his cancellation.”

“... I can kick his ass, you know?”

“I know, I’m just saving for a rainy day.” She laughed, stepping closer to his side and wrapping both arms around his. “So, the ticket, you party crasher.”

“Right, yeah, I may or may not have called your assistant earlier today to swipe it. I took a guess that she held onto it for safe keeping so-,”

“She’s new, I’m not surprised she just gave it up that easily.” She let Luka guide her into a dance. One hand with painted black holding hers to his chest, the other gently tugging to hold his shoulder before he held her waist.

“Oh, that, that explains a lot now.”

“What?”

He flinched, a nervous glint flashing across his features. “I may or may not have lied about who exactly I was since she didn’t know my name-,”

“Doesn’t listen to your music, already told her the sin she was committing.”

“And who I was to you, specifically-,”

Marinette tilted her head back in a laugh, Luka’s arm tightening to brace her weight, “You said you were my husband, didn’t you?”

He flushes at a memory of once getting a creep off her back a year ago by claiming that very title to her.

“Erm, no, I said I was your boyfriend and may have sold it by saying some pet name and swooning over you just a little,” he watched her eyes go wide then soft, a smile twitching to show. He stepped closer, almost pulling her flush to him, “But if that’s what you want, I can go out and get some marriage certificate?”

She flushed, lips parting and a rush of air passing them.

“Maybe call Jagged up and fly us to Vegas? I mean, we’re both looking good right now, you more so.” Her face went a shade or two deeper. She jumped in surprise when he let go of her hand to play with a tendril again on the right side, tilting her face to press a kiss to her left cheek. “God, you’re such a pretty little thing.”

She squeaked.

“What, what was the pet name?”

“Hm?” He lazily met her gaze, a dream like haze filter over them as he moved her body to sway with his. “Oh, that.”

“What was it?”

Baby, babygirl, beautiful, gorgeous- he may have said more than one.

He gave a slow and wicked grin, twirling her out and back into his chest in a swift and stunning movement as he nudged his nose to hers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased, smile spreading wider and radiant as she forgot to breathe for a second.

What. A fucking. Tease.

The need for him to make good on his words and looks hit through her hard and reminded her of their one night together that they both never forgotten. And how much she wished that was every night, as long as it ended up with them curled right around each other and love and happiness coaxing them to sleep instead of stress and loneliness.

He watched her steel her gaze, her jaw tightened. He swallowed when her height, now of five feet thanks to heels, straightened and forced him to pull up. A violent shiver rocked through him when both hands held along the back of his neck, one slipping under the collar of his shirt to scratch along the nape.

“Marinette-,” he choked.

“I’m only asking so I can show my reciprocation.” She leaned closer, kicking her shoes off into some corner and standing on his converse that every elder of theirs had eyed in question during the night. He supported her actions fully, of course. Still stepping them around in dance within a fluid motion. “Not gonna tell me, hun?”

He coughed, loudly and looked away from her to catch his breath. Watching adults cheat on spouses everywhere or everyone else minding their own business to stare at models or the shrimp on the tables.

He almost tripped when she wined in protest, her hand gripping his chin lightly and turning it to face her. His eyes were flickering between admiration, lust and love, growing three shades of deeper blue than was possible.

“C’mon, baby, tell me.”

“Baby?” He stammered out in surprise. Teenage Luka was having a fucking field day with this. “Marinette, I was only joking earlier and-,”

“Were you really though?”

“No,” his response was fast and instant, a wince playing at the corner of his eyes and his button nose scrunching in loss of control.

“Hey handsome,” he preened under the nickname passing her lips, even if close to millions called him the same thing, it paid more effect when it was Marinette calling him it. “Tell me why you came tonight.”

His neck was aching from staring down to meet her eyes now that the heels were gone but he let himself down lower to press his forehead to hers. “Because you deserve better than what he gives you.”

The girl stilled, expecting an awkward or a flirtatious remark. “What?”

The rockstar looked away sheepishly, a little ashamed. “I know you’re considering getting with him, but when I heard he was canceling on you I let my jealousy win out and I just wanted to be there for you.” He bit his lip when he felt her tugging his face back in her direction, choosing to resist the pressure. “You have to believe me when I say I came with no ulterior motives other than protecting you from going stag to your own party tonight.”

“You, you came to protect me?”

He shrugged, another small shiver racking through him when her hands moved along and glided across his neck. “And make sure you had a good night. I even asked your mom what you were wearing tonight just so I could make sure my outfit complimented yours to cheer you up.”

She was silent for a minute or so, and he waited, patiently as ever and guiding her to rest her head against his chest as he swayed them.

Luka, doing all the work. Luka, taking matters into his own hands when someone fails her. Luka, going the extra mile to make sure she has a happy memory.

Fuck giving second chances to other people. Luka is the only one to have shown her he’s the most earning of the concept and notion.

She pulls away, feeling the slight reluctance in his arms on her waist before they drop to his side, “Grab my heels.”

He raises a black brow but complies, turning to find them and hooking his fingers in the backs. He eyes them, used to seeing her shoes laying around the Liberty when she comes over or even at her own place, but he always has to remark that, “You have small feet.”

“You’ve also called them cute,” she huffs, tugging on his hand and pulling him near the entrance.

He follows, like they always do for one another. “Because they are- where are we going?” He stops them as they round an empty corridor, away from the hotel’s event room where the party is still very much happening. The heel of his palm grips tight to archway, pressing against it, the small shoes still dangling in his hold.

“Home, your place or mine. Actually, mine’s closer.”

He laughs brightly, “You can’t ditch your own party for another movie night, Mari.”

The petite girl turns to him, a fierce expression in his eyes that makes him swallow harshly. “No, but I can ditch to celebrate in getting what I really want. For finally getting what I want.”

“The Chinese takeout place is closed this time of ni-,”

“You.”

“What?” Luka wheezes, he blinks stupidly at her. Prettily and stupidly. He straightens, freehand tugging at his collar a little like he needs room to breathe. “Come again?”

“I’m going home. I’m taking you with me. And we’re gonna celebrate that I finally got off my ass and got what I wanted.”

He hums, nervously and a bounce starting in his hand, a shake in one hand, his dark brows furrow, “And you want?”

“You.”

“You- you want,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pain flashing across his features as he clears his throat. “You want me?”

Her eyes soften, a smile showing as she steps closer to him and takes his face into her hands, pulling him down to be eye level with her as he braces his weight on the wall next to them with a hand.

“Yes,” he looks awestruck as she giggles. “I want you... can you let me keep you?”

He laughs nervously, “I’ll fucking sell myself to you if that’s what you really want, fuck.”

She’s smiling, leaning up on tiptoes to alleviate the strain in his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, muffling the undignified noise of surprise that escapes him. She lets him get used to her for a second, kissing him slowly and purposely as starts to eventually overcome the shock and kiss her back in reverence.

He pulls away suddenly, a guilted expression on his face.

“Wait, wait. What about Adrien?”

“What about him?”

Luka fidgets, a quick glimpse of insecurities and jealousy showing to her before he regains a semblance of control after having his walls knocked down. “He’s been trying to go out with you, win you affections.”

He only knows of the situation, but never presses her to talk about it. It’s natural for it to come up in conversation everyday when he asks her about work knowing the stress of being twenty-two in a high end fashion company could be a bit more than overwhelming. He wanted to be a safe place to her since the beginning.

“There’s nothing about him. I’ve shut him down an handful of times and now it’s just a matter of letting him indulge himself in what he thinks are romantic gestures when me saying no doesn’t cut it. There’s nothing going on between him and I, just his belief that my crush from years ago accounts for something today.”

Luka still looks wary and isn’t touching her, most likely his conscious trying to be the better person between him and Adrien by not going out with the girl his friend is pining after.

Even if said girl is Luka’s legitimate best friend and the very same girl he’s been in love with since he was a kid.

Marinette feels like it’s a dirty tactic as she gets closer to him, trying to gauge where it’s jealousy and where it’s insecurity in regards to Adrien.

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Luka’s head turns minutely at the attention, tilting less than a centimeter to catch her lips before he catches himself. He struggles when her next kiss falls to his lips and is soft and slow, how he always wants to kiss her.

“Remember our first kiss?” She whispers, wounding arms around his waist and pressing close to him.

He matches her volume, an adoring look winning for a split second, “Of course I remember.”

“Remember our first date?”

“At the ice cream parlor, you wore a pink skirt that kept twirling when you did.” She feels his resolve break a little, his own right to be selfish with her slipping out a little.

His arms slip around her, and he presses a gentle kiss to her temple. “Remember our goodbye at the airport?” His arms tightening around her speak more volumes than his strained, “Yes,” does.

She’s just a little closer to convincing him to stop being so sacrificial with his own wants or needs. She just has to push more.

“Remember waking up in one another’s arms that morning?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking of what he can say in response to that. Wondering how honest to be, “... every day, I think of that morning every day.”

She still hears the clipped apprehension in his voice. That tone she knows so well that’s gonna lead into him giving her advice to rethink this whole decision and talk to him when she’s absolutely sure. How she shouldn’t think on impulse and lunge at what she wants unless she knows she does wanna keep with it.

But, he has to know she always thinks back on moments with him and that she longs to have jumped on impulse if it meant being with him.

Every time he’s showed up with takeout at her place. When he smiles so freely at her. When he bandages her cuts and blisters from working all night long.

When he showed up tonight looking like he had been her dare to begin with. How her heart felt when he admitted to lying to her secretary. The way he looked carrying her high heels that were much too small for his hands but he didn’t care because she asked him to.

How he crashed her own party to make sure she’d have fun tonight.

She’s sure she wants this, him.

All those nicknames they could call each other. All the benefits of dating the other and having a date to everything the other needs to attend. Having her best friend be her boyfriend meaning there’s no holding back from anything.

She’ll cringe about it in the morning, but it’s gotta work to break his long instilled fear of being a bad friend or person. Of being unselfish.

“Do you still remember that night?”

She’s sure he’s stopped breaking by the way his entire body seems to shut down, but then it reboots and he’s shaking against her and can’t seem to breathe correctly, his eyes avoiding hers as he swallows again and looking like he’s willing to risk going into an allergic reaction for the sake of one drink.

“That- that’s not something you forget, Marinette.” His hands are twitching on her waist, grip tightening just a little and a vein is jumping in his arm to do something to prove he remembers alright.

One more push, “Do you still remember how I tasted that night?”

He seizes her waist, lunging to kiss her desperately like he did that night and when he left, a growl passing his lips onto hers. He’s cupping the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, breathing her in and shaking against her as his resolves breaks completely and the selfish side comes out. The one that’s nowhere near as selfish as the average person, but enough to take in the matter of his own needs and wants. He pulls back, letting her watch his eyes darken, the pupils expanding until the blues are next to near mere ridges of color. He’s watching hers do the same before he nudges her nose and kisses her slowly, more loving and affectionate. His control slipping back into place and resulting in the Luka she so loves regaining the handles of his own mind.

He’s careful in the way he tugs her lip with his teeth, how he coaxes her to let him kiss her fully before pull back and panting against her lips.

“Yes, I remember,” his voice is rough and he has to glance away from her and straighten. She watches him take a few meditative breaths before he looks back at her.

“Does that really help?” She gestures to his chest and mouth, “the breathing?”

He laughs hollowly, “No, not really, but it bought me time to create some distance in this,” he glances around, “Not your apartment place.”

She laughs at the suddenly horrified look that crosses his face, the image of them making out and the threat of almost being caught in public instantly dawning on him. He glares playfully at her.

“You did that all on purpose.”

“Had to, you were just about to give me up for the sake of being a good friend to me and Adrien.” She pauses, a wicked idea forming to prove her point, “Unless, you want Adrien to know what that all is like?”

A dark look crosses Luka’s face; unrestrained bouts of suppressed jealousy, possessiveness and territoriality. “No,” he growls out, eyes squeezing shut and having to clear his throat. “I’d rather not let him know any of that personally.”

“Not even how I taste?”

“Marinette,” he warned, the growl resurfacing. She cooed, wrapping him up in a hug and pressing a kiss to his jaw as an apology. He whined, “It’s not funny when you do that.”

“No, but everything you feel is alright to feel. Don’t hold back for the sake of not being selfish. You can be selfish with me, you’re a reasonable guy and know boundaries.” She sighed, nuzzling further into his warm embrace. “I don’t like Adrien the way he wants me to, and lately, it’s hard to even be his friend. He needs to move on from me. Hell, I’m better friends with Félix now than him.”

“Just hope they don’t switch up on you again.”

She huffed in amusement. “God no, I’d kill them.”

“It’s adorable how how your less than five feet body resorts to violence and death threats.”

“Mm, except you, I’m quite fond of you.” She looks up at him, chin pressed to his chest and smiling when he looks at her softly and presses a kiss to her nose. “This, us, is not an impulse. Just a restrained want I’ve had for awhile.”

“Okay, I understand now.”

She grins cheekily at him, “Or need, if that makes you all possessive hot yet secretly adorable rockstar boyfriend mode again.”

“Boyfriend?” He smiled slowly, radiant as always and heart stopping. “If teenage me could hear you, he’d probably shut down from being overwhelmed.”

“Nineteen year old you certainly didn’t that night,” she mumbles, grinning at the loud bark of laughter that surprises the both of them when Luka throws his head back.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me what age I lost it at, totally rockstar of me, right?” The blush that’s coating his neck and ears is adorable, a shy smile quirking at her briefly.

“I think it’s sweet, cute even.”

“Yeah, because you’re the one I lost it to.” He deadpanned without conviction. “But, I guess I’ll take being sweet and cute.”

“It’s okay though, I mean, I did the cliché of losing my virginity to someone I was in love with.” Luka does in fact shut down in her embrace hearing that. Hands jittering against her and fingers tapping like he’s trying to speak through notes against her skin.

He takes another minute, before pressing a kiss to her hair. “If this is you confessing your love to me -and believe me, it’s killing me to stop you right now, I’d rather you do it in regards to another topic and not the fact that we were one another’s first time.” He avoids the dangerous smirk aimed his way, or the sharp angle of her cocked, black brow above breathtaking blues. “C’mon, let’s go dance some more and celebrate your success before we leave, maybe find your assistant to introduce me as your boyfriend to.”

She pours at him when he tugs on her hand in the direction of the party. “But-,”

He breathed out shakily, a waning patient look in his eyes and a false smirk aimed at her. “Can I sleep over tonight?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I’m very close to just following you home at this point, trust me. I don’t care how the night ends, just as long as it’s you and me tonight.”

She’s letting him make them dance again, feeling as the nerves leave his body as he gets them to fall in step with the tempo. He doesn’t care that he has to bend a little ways down to rest his cheek on her hair, not when she’s letting him pull her up against his chest when she typically only reaches the bottom of his rib cage.

They work well together, they fit perfectly together because they’re more than used to the instinctive adapting to one another.

Her hands cup his cheeks, kissing him carefully without reservation and the anxiety, “It was only an impulse at times because I love you and have for awhile.”

Luka deepens the kiss just a little, thankful she’s the type of girlfriend to let him indulge in her as he smiles, “I get it, I’ve had my share of impulsive thoughts for as long as I’ve been in love with you since we were young. I love you, Mari.”

“Enough to crash a party for me, apparently,” she whispered, a little moved by the thought that they were finally together. He thumbed her tears away.

“Enough to kill Adrien or Félix if you ask me to,” he replied in a loving tone, soothing her gasps for air when she broke apart in giggles against his chest in reaction.

He didn’t leave after that night. And he went to every party as her date too.

[jean-kayak]

i think i'm the first free request... can you do general fluff hcs for asahi, natsuya, and seijuro? ty!!!

A/N: YES YOU ARE, ANON, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING FREE! OMG I LOVE YOU

WHEN REQUESTS ARE BACK OPEN PLEASE REQUEST FREE! CHARACTERS, I LOVE THE SHOW PLEASE

🌊I feel like his love language is physical touch and quality time

🌊So expect this man to always have a part of his body touching you

🌊That could mean holding your hand or having you lay on him or vice versa, an arm around your shoulders

🌊He's your biggest cheerleader in anything, doesn't matter what

🌊It could be that you finally got a good night of sleep to nailing your exam, he is always cheering you on

🌊Along with being your biggest hype man, like I mean keyboard smashes on your Instagram posts lmfao

🌊Insecurities? He's throwing them out of the window and stomping on them

🌊He knows they won't go away overnight, but he spends everyday slowly coaxing you out of them until you don't even blink twice about it

🌊I feel like he's really big on touching your foreheads together lmao

🌊Like you could be laying in the bed together, and he'll bump his head against yours softly

🌊Or he'll just put his forehead against yours, and just stare into your eyes

🌊A massive cuddler

🌊Doesn't matter if you're the big spoon or if it's him, he doesn't care at all

🌊He's also very clingy, like his arms are always wrapped around you

🌊Especially whenever you get up to fix something to eat in the mornings, cause I feel like he gets very clingy when he's really sleepy 🥺

🌊Constantly has date ideas

🌊Rain canceled your plans? He's making a pillow and blanket fort in the living room with a stack of movies to watch alongside it

🌊No date is ever the same, there's always something different that you both end up doing

🌊Overall, 10/10 boyfriend

🌊Buys you a necklace with his name on it, and you always catch him staring at it

🌊When you call him out on it, he always tells you that he's so lucky to have you, and he can't believe that the both of you are together

🌊Always sending texts or pictures throughout the day that he knows will make you smile or laugh

🌊Loves making you laugh because it sounds like music to his ears, even making you smile is enough to make his day

🌊He tries to join you in whatever hobbies you have, wanting to spend as much time with you as he can

🌊Random kisses are very common

🌊You could be doing homework, reading, on your phone, cooking, anything, and he'll just randomly come up to you and ask for a kiss

🌊Loves to play with your hair

🌊If you're laying on him, expect him to mess with the ends of it, or ask you to teach him how to braid it

🌊Loves to kiss you, like I said before, but he can ever kiss you just once; he's always asking for one more, which turns into many more

🌊Randomly dances with you even if there's no music, whether it's in the kitchen, living room, bedroom

🌊Likes doing face masks with you, and he always takes pictures of the both of you

🌊If you're having a bad day, he drops everything to do anything he can to make sure that you're feeling better

🌊Whenever you go shopping, he has you do like a mini fashion show so that he can see what you bought and help you with outfits

🌊9 times out of 10, he's right there with you lmao, and he takes a bunch of pictures

🌊Loves to buy you things even if you swear up and down that he doesn't have to

🌊He just can't help when he sees something that reminds him of you, and he just has to buy it

🌊You don't let him overspend on you though, but he will always treat you with some food or anything you want

🌊He just loves to see your face light up when he gets you something that you really love or enjoy

🌊Gives the BEST hugs, like, have you seen this man's shoulders???

🌊He is a comfort king, and he can basically read you like a book

🌊He can tell when you're not feeling the best, and the first thing he'll do is hug you before asking you if you want to do anything that'll take your mind off what's bothering you

🌊Loves to have you in his lap or on top of him, basically just wants his arms around you all of the time

🌊Along with having you in his arms, he loves to carry you, mostly because it just makes him feel like he can really take care of you

🌊He carries you when you're sick, sleepy, or when you're feet are hurting

🌊If you say there's no way he could, he makes it his personal mission to show that he can and it's no problem

🌊He has to kiss you before every swim meet because the first time he did, he won and beat his personal record

🌊He says you're his good luck charm, but then he's constantly asking for another

🌊"Seijuro, you're gonna be late." "I know, I know, just one more."

🌊Loves when you wear his clothes, and he will purposefully throw his sweatshirt or his jacket your way whenever you say you're cold

🌊He kisses at every one of your insecurities making sure that you never feel that way again

🌊It's like a ritual for him, he does it every morning, afternoon, the evening before you go to sleep, telling you that you are gorgeous, beautiful, the whole nine yard

🌊He fucks it into you too, but we ain't talking about that right now LMFAO 💀

🌊Antieways, if there are days where you are having a low point, he is there with you every step of the way

🌊Lays between your thighs, it's definitely one of his favorite places to go to sleep

🌊Especially after a meet, he'll just move your legs and lay down in between them, and that man is out in two seconds

🌊He uses one like a pillow, and the other like a makeshift blanket, wrapping his arm around it

🌊Bottom line, he is a very affectionate person, and literally the best boyfriend in the world

Thank you for this anon, I love you

[george-mackay-macfine]

Let's play a game

A/N - Who remembers the snippet I posted ages ago with the bad boy / good girl. Well, I finally did something with it.

Please enjoy, Chapter one.

The warmth of the sun was the first thing I felt when I woke up, coating me in a blanket of warmth. It was too much warmth, and I was rapidly becoming uncomfortably hot. The second was the throbbing in my head, undoubtedly brought on by all the alcohol I had consumed the night before. And the third was the heavyweight of an arm across my torso. Who did the arm belong to? Well, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure.

“Shit,” I whispered, cautiously turning on the plush bed, careful to not startle the owner of the arm that lay all too casually around my waist. “Shit, shit.” I moved the arm carefully off my waist, putting it beside its owner.

The owner of the arm was none other than Jude Hastings, the boy I’d known since I was eight, and the boy who’d mercilessly teased me throughout school and somewhat into our adult lives.

People, primarily our parents, often called it teasing— a bit of harmless flirting between an adolescent boy and a dorky adolescent girl, so they said. I, on the other hand, referred to it as warfare.

Which would lead to a lifelong war between Jude Hastings and me.

“Fuck,” I stood from the bed and looked down at what was covering my body… It wasn’t much. All I had on was what I’m assuming was Hastings’ button-down shirt, and that was it. No bra, no pants… And I had no clue where my underwear had gotten to. “Pull yourself together, Darcy,” I whispered to myself. “Just find your shit and get out.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking five deep breaths. My mother always told me it was a way to destress, but guess what, mom, I am still stressed. “Okay. Pull it together.” I had seven things I had to find in this apartment, and hopefully, it was all contained to this one room. Anything I couldn’t uncover would just have to be left as a sacrifice to the apartment demon.

My pants and top were the easiest to find, laying at the end of the bed a dead giveaway of where Hastings and I had ended our night standing, or at least standing for the most part. I vaguely recall him pulling me off the bed just to bend me over the desk he had pushed against the wall… I guess that counts as sort of standing.

“Jacket…” I crept around the room, trying to find where my favourite corduroy jacket had landed in the thralls of passion I had shared with the still sleeping demon. “Gotcha,” I pulled on the sleeve bringing it out from behind the chair that sat pushed into the corner. Another memory of Hastings and I making out on the very chair flashed through my mind bringing a blush hot enough to make the top of my ears burn. “Shoes, bra and underwear,” I sat on the floor, pulling my jacket over my arms looking around for a sign of any of the missing clothing. I quickly spotted my bra hanging over the bedpost at the top end of the bed. “Ahha.” I pushed up from the floor and padded across the carpet, keeping a keen eye on Hastings to make sure he didn’t suddenly wake up and catch me in the shameful morning after clothes collection. If I was lucky, I’d leave with all my belongings and whatever scraps of dignity I had left. “Four down, three left.” I scooped the bra off the bedpost and shoved it in my pocket. Watching Hastings, I dropped to my knees and looked underneath the bed in hopes of finding at least one of the remaining items, if not all of them. “Shoes.” I gripped the heel on one of my boots and pulled it towards me, half an item down… The second boot was more brutal to get to. I had to crawl at least halfway under the bed to reach it, somehow it had landed so far underneath the bed last night, but at least now I had shoes to wear for my solemn journey home.

Was underwear really that necessary for a journey home? Could I just leave without them? And my purse, I mean, I’m sure any decent human being with any dignity would give it back to someone who’d left it at their house. Still, then again, this was Jude Alexander Hastings we were talking about. He wasn’t known to me for being a decent human being. Besides, cancelling all my credit cards and getting a new I.D sounded a lot more appealing than risking Hastings waking up with me still inside his apartment with minimal clothing.

“Fuck it.” I army crawled backwards out from under the bed, careful not to get any carpet burns on any delicate parts. Trust me, one time of having sex on some carpet, and you know the pain well enough to not do it again. Once I emerged from the pits of the bed, I took a final look around, trying to find the elusive underwear or purse. “Note to self, cancel the credit card.” I stood up and walked to the pile of items I’d begun to form at the end of the bed: pants, top, bra, shoes and jacket. Five out of seven ain’t bad in the grand scheme of things. I mean, was it my favourite purse? Yes, and were they my favourite pair of lucky underwear? Yes. Could I buy more to avoid any further interactions with Jude Hastings? Fuck yes.

“Missing something?” The husky voice that haunted my alcohol-soaked brain startled me into dropping my pants to the floor. I spun on the ball of my feet and looked at him, lazily lying in his bed. The sheet hanging from his waist was the demon man himself. Since when did he have abs? - No, not the point, Darcy.

“Two things actually,” I felt the rush of heat blossoming on my cheeks as I finally allowed myself to look over his bare chest.

“Would these be one of them?” His hand rose, hooked around his pointer finger was my black lace thong, the one I’d been crawling around this whole fucking room looking for. Bastard. “They sure look like yours.” He held the up higher, squinting with one eye.

“If they’re not mine, perhaps they’re yours,” I smirked in self-satisfaction as the smirk on his face faltered. One Edwards.

“Well, if you’re sure they’re not yours.” He bunched them up, leaning over to his bedside table. “I think I’ll keep them then.”

“Wait.” I yelped, springing onto the bed. “Give them to me,” I reached for them. Holding my hand out, waiting for the lace scrap to be returned to me. “I need them to get home.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He dropped them into his bedside table. “You said they were mine.” One Hastings.

“God, I hate you,” My eyes turned to slits as the smirk came back to his face more prominent than the one I’d managed to make him lose moments ago. He shut the drawer and returned to his previous position, his whisky coloured eyes running over my form.

“Not what you were saying last night.”

“Was that before the double shots of tequila? Or was it before the fishbowl margarita?” I moved back, standing at the end of the bed, pulling my pants up over my hips. Usually, I’d feel self-conscious dressing and undressing in front of someone I’d just had sex with. Still, by this point in our lives, Hastings had already made numerous comments about how ‘plump’ I was, as he liked to call it. I didn’t have time to dwell on the idea that I gave him a front-row pass to see how correct his childish name-calling was. “Or maybe it was before the game of beer pong?”

“Yeah,” He dropped his head and laughed. “It started about there.”

“Hastings, you know as well as I do that I don’t remember a thing about last night, right?”

“Would you like me to give you a play-by-play?” I unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers. For once, my skill of unbuttoning button-downs came in use.

“No, thanks. I think I can surmise what’s happened from the lack of underwear.” And the memories of him pushing me up against his front door helped with the overall picture.

“It was your idea,” I stole a look at the bedside table where the same old alarm clock I was sure he’d had since middle school sat. Nine-thirty. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Was it now?” I didn’t really have time to hear how this interaction was my fault, but I was curious. Even if I was supposed to be meeting my parents for brunch in half an hour, and by the looks of it, I was going to have to suffer through without underwear.

“Oh yeah.” He fell back onto the bed. “The boys and I were at the bar, and you came up to me… You know I was expecting to have another verbal sparring match with you, one I’d ultimately win.”

“Doubtful,”

“When you began to flirt with me.” I could hear the smirk in his voice even with my back facing him.

“Is that so.” I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up one of my boots, unzipping the side.

“Oh yeah,” I heard the shuffle of sheets on the bed behind me and then felt the warmth of his chest pressing onto my covered back, heat radiating from where his skin touched me. “Never expected this from you, Edwards.” He moved my hair to the side, his fingers leaving goosebumps on my neck as he trailed a fingertip along the skin. “Really, I never did.” His lips touched the skin now, ghosting the same pattern his fingertips had traced.

“Alright,” I stood up, balancing on one foot as I tried to shove my foot into the boot. “I don’t know what this.” I wiggled a finger between our bodies. “Is, but last night was all there was. There will be no encore, M’kay.” I knelt down, zipping up the boot before shoving my foot into the second.

“If you’re sure you can live without one.” He moved back to the top of the bed, leaning back on one arm, watching me scamper to make myself presentable. “You know you’re still wearing my shirt.”

“Thank you, Captain obvious.”

“I’d like it back. It’s one of my favourites.”

“And those.” I jutted a finger at the bedside table where my underwear remained captive. “Were my favourite pair of underwear.” I smiled sweetly at him. “So we’ll call it even,” I brushed my hair with my fingers, trying to make some sort of progress with it so it didn’t look like I’d just been to pound town… which apparently from the ache in my legs I had been.

“You know that’s not helping,”

“What isn’t.”

“Trying to make yourself look like you haven’t just had one of the best nights of your life.”

“Bold of you to assume that,”

“Not an assumption. You told me so much yourself last night.”

Fucking Hastings. That’s it, fuck it. I was getting my underwear back. Even if it meant a small game of seduction.

“Look, Jude.” I let my voice drop into a whisper as I walked towards where he lay comfortably. I flung my legs over his body, straddling his waist. I couldn’t help but internally melt when his hands clinging to my waist, pressing me down onto him. I’m human. What can I say? The thin sheet gave everything away, and I had to admit, Hastings was packing more than I thought. Self-satisfaction flowed through me as I saw his eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating as his fingers moving in circles on my waist. “I want you to know something about last night.” His eyes locked with mine as my right hand held onto his chin, keeping our eyes locked, my left going to the bedside table quietly pulling it open.

“Yeah?” His Adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed.

“Last night was,” I moved his head, so he was looking away from the drawer as my hand began to search for the fabric. “Was something that I…” My fingertips grazed the lace. BINGO! “I’m going to pretend doesn’t exist.”

“Oh really?” His hand quickly left my hip and grabbed around my waist. “Because I’m going to remember every little detail.” The lace slipped from between my fingertips as he flipped us. “Especially every time I open this draw.” I heard the draw slam shut and all hopes I had of leaving with my underwear gone.

“Get off me.” His right hand pulled my leg up and wrapped it around his waist. Oh god… he was good.

“Oh no, you started this.” He laughed, his chest pressing into mine with each exhaled laugh. “I’m just finishing it.”

“I need you to get off me so I can leave Hastings.”

“I dunno, I’m quite comfortable.” His hand pushed the fabric of his shirt up, revealing a tiny slither of my skin. “I like how you look in my bed, a forbidden fruit who doesn’t belong.” I let out a snort. If this was his attempt at flirting, he had a lot of work to do. “But here you are,”

“You are right. I certainly don’t look like the type of girl you’d waste your time on, so how about you let me up, and we pretend this didn’t happen.”

“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” His voice came out in a soft whisper.

“Why?”

“I was always told girls like you,” I felt a rush of enjoyment as his eyes ran over my body, a rush I didn’t want to feel. “The good girls who their parents think their perfect when really they’re the worst of the worst are the best,” It was beginning to be a struggle to concentrate as his fingertips brushed the hair away from my forehead. “And from what I’ve been told, you’re the best of them… So I want to find out myself.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Why did you come up to me last night?” Why did I go up to him last night because I was lonely? Because I was sick of April talking about her fiancé? Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, verbally sparring with Hastings was a highlight.

“I heard that the reformed bad boys are the best,” His finger dragged along my jawline. “And I heard you’re one of the best.” I countered with a smirk.

“Oh really?” He mimicked.

“You tell me,” His fingertip tapped against my lips. Impulsively I nipped on the tip.

“Let’s play a game.”

“I’m listening.”

“The game to end all of our little games for good… No more practice jokes, no more telling my parents I got some random girl pregnant.” He chuckled.

“Then you can’t egg my car anymore or let down my tyres.”

“Fine.” He conceded. “Then let’s sweet talk,” His lips went to my neck, placing sweet kisses along the skin. “Let’s play fight, talk twenty-four-seven,”

“I’m no good at sweet-talking, and I don’t think I could stand talking to your for so long.” My voice came out breathy as my senses zero’d in on the feeling of his lips.

“Let’s wish each other good morning, and good night every day… We’ll take walks together.”

“I’d prefer a ride on your motorbike.” He let out a chuckle, the skin under his lips practically vibrating from the motion.

“I’ll give you a nickname,” His lips were on my jaw now, my hands we on his back, nails digging into the skin, I’m sure leaving moon-shaped indents. “Let’s hang out with each other’s friends.”

“Your friends are dicks.” His lips dropped close to mine, a chaste kiss being left on the right side.

“We’ll go on dates, talk all night on the phone… I’ll hold you, kiss you.” His lips moved to the other side. “We’ll make love, bang, fuck whatever you want to call it.”

“I’m waiting for the game part, Hastings. Right now, it sounds like you just want me to be your girlfriend. I mean, I know last night was good, but really this good?”

“The game is, Whoever falls in love first, loses.” He finally pulled away, his right hand still rubbing circles on my hip bone.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a game.”

“Then why do you seem so scared?”

Was this asshole serious? I was never scared, especially not when it came to challenging him, beating him.

“I’m not.”

“Then what do you say?”

“So you want to pretend we’re a thing to all of our friends, all of our family, just to make one of us fall in love with the other first for what? Bragging rights and heartbreak?”

“Tell me something.” His lips hovered inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and how the hell did he not have morning breath? “How good would it feel to know you conned me into loving you, then breaking my heart,”

He had a point. After all the years of heartache and teasing he’d caused me, it would be fun to break his heart into a million tiny shattered pieces.

“What would we tell everyone?” His body moved against mine as he shrugged.

“That we’ve reconnected or connected whatever you want to say.”

“You really want to do this?” My brow raised in suspicion.

“Make you fall in love with me.” I nodded my head. “Oh hell yeah,”

“Fine.” I smirked. “Let’s play a game.”

[thesibfiles]

Courtney going on tour right after?

Theres a misconception that after Kurts death, Courtney went straight on tour right away. This is false. The album was already set to release a few days after and they couldnt change that on such a short notice. Promotion for the album was cancelled and she pushed back the tour 4 months.

“Live Through This was supposed to provide Love an opportunity to step out from her famous husband’s shadow. “It’s annoying now, and it’s been annoying for nine years, Love said in a 1999 Jane Magazine interview of always being connected to Cobain. Released four days after Cobain’s body was found, the album’s promotion was put on hold. Rather than retreat from the public eye, Love openly mourned and helped fans of Cobain and Nirvana make sense of the singer’s death. She sat with grieving teenagers gathered outside the couple’s Seattle home and recorded a reading of parts of his suicide note that was played at the singer’s memorial that gathered near the Space Needle. In the days following his death, Love showed a very raw and emotional side and admitted that, like many fans, she didn’t have all the answers. 

It was, and still is, impossible for people to discuss Live Through This without noting the irony of the album’s title. Love has said the name was not a prediction at all, but instead a reflection of all she had endured in the months leading up to its release, including a very public custody fight with the Los Angeles Department of Family Services over daughter Frances Bean. Rumors suggested that Cobain had written much of Live Through This (it’s Miss World, not Mister, just FYI). “I’d be proud as hell to say that he wrote something on it, but I wouldn’t let him. It was too Yoko for me. It’s like, ‘No fucking way, man! I’ve got a good band, I don’t fucking need your help,’” was Love’s response to critics in Spin’s oral history of Live Through This. Love and Cobain often shared notebooks and lyrics with each other, and while there is talk of Cobain’s influence on Love’s work, or the writing of all of it, less is mentioned in the press of her impact on his lyrics and music. Rather than sucking all the life out of Nirvana or threatening the success of the band, like many assumed she would do, she inspired Cobain. Fun fact: In Utero, Nirvana’s last album, was named after a line from one of Love’s poems.

Sadly, songwriting rumors would be replaced by other rumors. Women are often vilified and condemned for the deaths of their male partners. Love, like all women, was supposed to save her partner from death and addiction. Fans of Cobain projected all their anger and resentment over the loss of the Nirvana front man onto Love, and soon she was blamed for not only his addiction but also his death. There are even two movies devoted to the theory that Courtney killed Kurt: the awful Soaked in Bleach (2015) and the equally awful Kurt & Courtney (1998). If you think we’ve come a long way, baby, sadly we haven’t. 

One year after Anthony Bourdain’s death, Asia Argento is still being blamed, and in September 2018, Ariana Grande had to take a break from social media after fans blamed her for the death of her ex Mac Miller. A few months later, she would be blamed for new beau Pete Davidson’s mental health and addiction issues. It’s amazing she finds the time to write hit songs what with all the dude destruction she has going on. When women are not being blamed for the deaths of the men in their lives, they are being attacked for not grieving properly. “She wasn’t crying. She’s got $30 million coming to her. Do you blame her for being so cool?” a hospital staffer said of Yoko Ono following John Lennon’s murder in 1980. 

About four months after Cobain’s death, Love went on tour to promote her new album. Some questioned and judged why she would go on tour so soon, but Love has said it was a necessity. She had a young daughter to support. She needed to work. She also, sadly, still needed to prove herself. “I would like to think that I’m not getting the sympathy vote, and the only way to do that is to prove that what I’ve got is real,” Love told Rolling Stone in 1994.

Twenty-five years later, Cobain’s death still hangs over Live Through This. In the days leading up to the anniversary of Cobain’s death, former Hole bassist Melissa Auf der Maur wrote an open letter to music magazine Kerrang saying she “would not stand for Kurt’s death overshadowing the life and work of the women he left behind this year.”

“We were extremely well designed for each other,” Love has said of her relationship with Cobain. In a letter reprinted in Dirty Blonde: The Diaries of Courtney Love, she calls him “my everything. the top half on my fraction.” The two had similar upbringings, both came from broken homes and spent childhoods shuttling between relatives and friends. They both grew up longing for love and acceptance. When we tell the story of Kurt and Courtney we talk about drugs and destruction, but we don’t talk enough about love.

The two also shared an intense drive and ambition. “I didn’t want to marry a rock star, I wanted to be one,” Love said in a 1992 Sassy interview. Evidence of her drive can be found in the many notes and to-do lists she kept, some of which are collected in Dirty Blonde. There are reminders to send her acting résumé to agencies, to write three to four new songs a week, to “achieve L.A. visibility.” A scene in the documentary Kurt & Courtney features an ex of Love’s reading from one of her to-do lists, which has “become friends with Michael Stipe” as the number one task to complete (not only did Love do this, but he is her daughter’s godfather). This ambition is not surprising from a woman who, when she was younger, mailed a tape of herself singing to Neil Sedaka in hopes of getting signed. Love knew what she wanted at an early age, and what she wanted was fame.

She was certainly living by the “do not hurt yourself, destroy yourself, mangle yourself to get the football captain. Be the football captain!” motto she championed in the 1995 documentary Not Bad for a Girl. Ambition is often a dirty word when it is used to describe women and Love is no exception. She has been repeatedly described as calculating and controlling when she should be rewarded for her blond ambition and viewed as an inspiration. Critics and the press often call her a gold digger who only married Cobain for fame and money. They fail to mention that when the two met Pretty on the Inside was actually selling more copies than Bleach, Nirvana’s debut album. Even post-Kurt, Love’s intentions were always under scrutiny. On the Today Show to do press for The People vs. Larry Flynt, Love refused to talk about her past drug use, despite the host’s repeated questions, saying the topic was not an appropriate fit for the show’s demographic. She was right, but it didn’t stop a writer from describing the move as “calculating” in a 1998 Spin piece.

Cobain was ambitious too; he was just much slyer and more secretive about it. He was known to call his manager and complain when MTV didn’t play Nirvana’s videos enough, and he would correct journalists who misquoted the band’s sales figures in interviews. While success is typically celebrated and rewarded for men and it certainly was for Cobain, he also had to be mindful of the slacker generation that loved Nirvana and greeted success — and especially mainstream success —

While female celebrities like Love are criticized for their rebellion, male celebrities, like Cobain for example, are celebrated and mythologized for it. Cobain and Love both struggled with addiction, but it is Love who is repeatedly vilified for her drug use. “She was vilified for being a mess, for being a drug addict, for not being a great parent — in other words, all of the things we expect in a male rock star,” said Bust magazine in a piece in the magazine’s 20th anniversary issue, which featured Love on the cover.

We make jokes about the drug antics of male celebrities from Keith Richards to Charlie Sheen, idolizing their debauchery and depravity. The new Netflix/Lifetime movie by Jack Daniels, The Dirt, about Mötley Crüe, takes the band’s excesses to almost comic levels. Check out crazy tourmate Ozzy Osbourne snorting a line of ants by a hotel pool! Such zany antics! I would love to see Lindsay Lohan try to get away with that. We never allow women to live down their arrests and their addictions, but we repeatedly allow men to have a redemption arc. Robert Downey Jr. was in and out of jail and on and off drugs for much of the mid to late ’90s, but we rarely, if ever, talk about his past.

When Love isn’t being attacked for her addiction issues, she is being judged for her parenting. Love’s first unflattering press was “Strange Love,” the much publicized 1992 Vanity Fair profile by Lynn Hirschberg. While the piece talks at length about Love’s drug use and constantly questions her parenting ability, it doesn’t paint Cobain in the same light. “It is appalling to think that she would be taking drugs when she knew she was pregnant,” says one close friend in the piece. Hirschberg relies on many unnamed sources and focuses often on the tabloid-like aspects of Love’s life and addictions. “Courtney has a long history with drugs. She loves Percodans (‘They make me vacuum’), and has dabbled with heroin off and on since she was eighteen, once even snorting it in Room 101 of the Chelsea Hotel, where Nancy Spungen died,” she writes. “Reportedly, Kurt didn’t do much more than drink until he met Courtney.” (Even when it is reported by Kurt and Krist that Kurt tried heroin in 1989, way before Courtney, It was also known that he smoked weed and used caugh syrup to get high in 1989 and 1990.)

This double standard was common in coverage of the couple. In Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck, the 2015 documentary by Brett Morgen, Love asks her husband, “Why does everyone think you’re the good one and I’m the bad one?” Later in the film we see a scene of Frances Bean’s first haircut. The child sits on Cobain’s lap while Love searches for a comb and scissors. The camera shows Cobain nodding off, and while he maintains that he is just tired, it’s clear he’s not. The scene is painful to watch, especially because those around Cobain carry on like nothing in wrong, giving the feeling this is just like any other day in the Love-Cobain household. The scene is a reminder of how the press treated Cobain’s addiction when he was alive. They just carried on like nothing was wrong, instead directing all their judgement at Love.

[palladium-poisoned]

2, 7, 16, and 19 for the book asks? :)

2. top 5 books of all time? HMMMM what a good question omg

the zenda series by ken petti, john amoedeo, and cassanda westwood for sure. if for no other reason than no one has heard of it and i'm going to never stop talking about it so other people can get dragged into this hell with me and be sad that this childrens book series trying to capitalize on the 00's boom of magical school popularity got canceled and mysteriously never published its 9th book (it has an isbn and everything and i even emailed the publisher about it but they left me on read)

honestly the lies of locke lamora by scott lynch i think. this is a newer one (in that it's not grandfathered in by a decade) but it is honestly. phenomenal. it's uh. VERY crass and VERY violent and VERY graphic and nasty so if thats not ur thing, avoid avoid avoid. but if u dont mind it getting fucking. uhm. real. it's super fucking good the world building is incredible (and then we leave it all behind in book two 🥲 rip)

honestly the percy jackson series is top notch and heroes of olympus its sequel series killed it too. rick riordan is so good i love his stuff so much. yeah these are series instead of books but thats the kind of fantasy world loving queer i am. i also have cant make decisions disorder so we're going with series! it's fine!

the wide awake princess by e.d. baker and its sequels are so cute. it's by the same author who wrote the princess frog books (nothing like the movie but ""allegedly"" the insp. the insp my ass.) and it's like. all the fairytales existing in one magical world and i love it very much. it's not very deep or anything its for ages like. five to nine. but i love it anyway

honestly probably the princess academy by shannon hale. i return to it so often and im trying to read the sequel now. i even named one of my oldest ocs after the main character. so yeah, probably this one.

7. is there a series/book that got you into reading? YES and im sorry to report it was harry potter. i liked reading,,,, enough before then, but it was more of a "mommy mommy read me dr seuss's sleep book or stellaluna again" and mom tried to read me sorcerer's stone back when they tried to ban it but i wasn't interested then i saw the movie and i had to know what happened next. so like a lot of people my age, it was harry potter

16. how many books have you read this year? don't look at me and my shame 🥲 i think one. i read it when the power went out. i've been kind of super depressed since late last year, and my main hobby is roleplaying. so when i do have the energy to be reading long form prose, it tends to be roleplay posts i need to respond to askjdfhg i have a bunch i want to be reading though, and honestly i'm like. got my finger on the trigger i am SO close to rereading all of pjato and heroes of olympus i can just fucking feel it

19. most disliked popular books? HHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMM other than fifty shades and asoiaf uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhmmmmmmm

YOU KNOW WHAT? ROBIN HOOD i loved robin hood and all things medieval as a kid (still do) and we had to read robin hood in school and i loved it!

until the ending. i was FURIOUS at the ending !!!!! i will. post a private post. and link it. bc tumblr is fighting me tonight.

link!

[wienerbarnes]

Secret’s Out

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,796

Warnings: not much, brief slight angst i guess

A/N: back on my cheek to cheek bullshit 😌 after this one, im going to be posting some oneshots that date back to some of reader’s background and times before bucky! which im excited for :D enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

Another mission, another briefing. You get the alert the morning of, the last minute meeting blaring in your room as you make yourself breakfast. You sigh and turn the stove off, accepting that you won’t have time to finish cooking and make it to the conference room in the next five minutes. You take the time instead to get dressed in what you normally wear to briefings and take your coffee to go.

When you arrive, there’s no one in the room, no one besides Sam and Bucky. Was the meeting for nine and not eight? Are you freakishly early? Could you have actually stayed and eaten your eggs and toast?

“Do you know what this is about? Because he won’t tell me.” Bucky huffs at you playfully, not actually angry, but still annoyed at the fact that Sam refused to tell him anything that’s going on until you got here.

You shake your head to tell him you don’t and slowly make your way over to the seat next to Bucky as Sam’s voice booms in the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock the door.” A distant click is heard as your bottom meets the chair and Bucky’s face becomes more and more confused.

Sam is silent for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out what words to say and how to start.

“I found a video of you.” He says.

“... What?” You whisper in disbelief.

“I was looking into your background. Specifically your HYDRA background. And I found a video that needs explanation.” As if on cue, a video is displayed behind Sam.

You are seen sitting at a small table, a small blender to the right of you. You look dangerously thin, hair greasy and matted, dark circles under your eyes. You have a crazy look in them, a look Bucky hasn’t seen since the first time he saw you in prison. This isn’t prison though, he very quickly realizes. Besides your body growing rigid next to him, he just knows that this is a HYDRA facility.

You’re humming obnoxiously loud in the video as a large man - presumably a Hydra scientist -  steps into frame. He wears a light blue button down shirt tucked into slacks underneath a lab coat. The tune of Singin’ in the Rain is all that’s heard for the first few seconds of the video as you stare up at the man, watching him as he checks the blender.

“Shut up.” He finally snaps at you, growing annoyed with your loud humming.

“I’m singing in the rain! Just singing in the rain! What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again!” You yell out, screaming out the lyrics in tune before a loud crack sounds, as the man in the lab coat slaps you hard across the face.

Bucky flinches next to you and you barely remember what this video was. You’re more consumed by the fact that Sam was doing some kind of background check on you for some reason and the fact that there’s a video at all. I didn’t know they recorded me.

You seem to hold back a smile at the man, as though he told some amazing joke and you’re trying not to laugh, despite having been backhanded across the cheek.

“Turn on the blender.” The man commands.

“That’s a very nice shirt you’re wearing.” You compliment.

He ignores you as he waits for you to turn on the blender. Bucky looks closely at it, but the button is on the side closest to the handler. He takes a wild guess that they don’t expect you to just reach around and switch it on with your finger.

You suddenly remember what this video is. And you realize why Sam is so angry. This isn’t good at all.

“It’s a nice shade of blue. A calming shade of blue. Like a sky blue.”

“Shut up. Turn on the blender.”

“No, no, not a sky blue. More like a… cerulean.”

“So what, you like my shirt. Turn. The. Blender. On. Now!” He commands, voice raising as his patience wears thin.

“Cerulean… blue. A nice shade… of cerulean… blue…” You drift off.

That’s when Bucky sees it. A small label on the blender, Cerulean. Before his thoughts can spiral too deeply into the name of the blender, it's a loud whirring sound in the video, making him flinch once more.

Nobody touched the blender, it seemed to have powered on by itself and a wide smile grows on your face, the same one he saw in the other video he’s seen of you, when you escaped the Hydra facility. You giggle girlishly as the man leans forward and shoves his hand into the powered blender, blood splattering out of it immediately, spraying across your face and your smiling teeth and tainting the blue of his shirt and lab coat.

Four men crowd you, holding you by the head, by the neck, by the shoulders, gripping your chin even though you barely moved through the duration video and the shot switches to black before powering off completely.

Bucky finally peels his eyes away from where the video was playing to look at you, and you look terrified.

“Sam,” You try to start.

“Mind. Control.” He says.

“Sam -” You try again.

“You hid mind control from us!” He yells.

“I can explain! “You better, and I’m only giving you thirty seconds to do so.” He snaps.

“It - It was fight or flight! I don’t even know how I did that! I barely remember that video at all! I’ve only ever been able to do that one other time! Sam - Sam -” You stutter, “They injected me with all kinds of shit, kept me awake for days on end, fed me, starved me; they did anything to manipulate my body in order to manifest powers. You have to - to - to believe me, I don't know how I did that -”

You’re getting hysterical. You can not fuck this up. You can’t be on your own again. You can’t be living in fear all the time anymore, you can’t go back to that. You can’t be away from Bucky, you can’t lose Bucky, can’t lose Bucky.

“Sam, that’s enough.” Bucky finally speaks up.

“Buck, I know she’s your little girlfriend, but -”

“Sam, do you hear yourself right now?! Look at her!” You’re on the verge of hyperventilating and overall losing it.

Bucky doesn’t pay Sam attention long enough to hear anything he’s going to say before ducking down to where you hold your head in your hands.

“Can’t… can’t be alone again… no, no, no,… can’t” You mumble to yourself.

Sam takes a deep breath, calming himself in order to assess the situation before him, “Hey. Hey!” He snaps, catching your attention and making you look up, tears in your eyes.

“I may be angry at you for keeping this from me… but you’re not going anywhere. Do I wish you would’ve told me so I wouldn’t be surprised by some ominous video this morning? Yes. But we’ll figure it out. We’re a team and I’m not abandoning you. So stop the crying so we can deal with this. Because you need to tell me everything.” Sam tells you with seriousness in his voice, the Captain coming out.

You take a deep breath and wipe your tears, preparing to tell them everything you can remember.

…

You’re exhausted. You cried. A lot. Trying to sift through thousands of memories you spent so long trying to repress because you never wanted to remember them; you never thought you’d need to.

You tell Bucky that don’t feel like being around anyone the rest of the day, and you’re glad he accepts that, letting you have your alone time and leaving you with a promise for breakfast the following morning.

Meanwhile, Bucky calls up an old friend, someone he hasn’t talked to in years. But it’s the only person he can think of that might be able to help you get a hold of your powers.

He sits on his couch in his apartment, phone against his ear as the line rings, before an accented voice finally answers.

“Hello?”

“... Hey.”

“... Bucky? Is that you?”

“Yeah. It’s me. How soon can you be in New York? From wherever you are? I need some help.”

Morning comes too soon for you, though.

“Agent 51?”

“Oh… my god. What do you want?” You groan, loving F.R.I.D.A.Y., but hating her voice so early in the morning, with only seven minutes to spare before your alarm was supposed to go off anyway.

“Your training has been canceled this morning by Captain Wilson. Instead, he has requested that you meet him in Conference Room B.”

“Ugh, at what time?”

“As soon as possible, Agent.”

“Holy shit,” You sigh, accepting that you won’t be able to sleep anymore, “Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” You hope that Bucky somehow knows your training is canceled and brings you breakfast in the conference room anyway as promised yesterday.

Making your way to the conference room with your coffee in hand for the second time in the span of two days - which you hope doesn’t become a routine - you might add, you make sure to rub a hand across your head, smoothing down any hairs sticking straight up at weird angles now that the hair is growing back. It’s only maybe an inch or two long, but not long enough to do anything to it and not short enough to ignore.

Entering the conference room, you see Sam, Bucky and some… woman, her back turned towards you. You close the door timidly behind you and Bucky turns around to greet you, styrofoam box in hand and the smell of bacon and toast hits your nostrils. Knew it.

“Brought you breakfast, baby.” He tells you with a smile, walking up to you to plant a soft kiss on your lips in Good morning.

“Ugh, ew.” Sam spews. The woman giggles at his reaction and you’re brought back to the stranger in the room.

“Who are you?” You ask, not really wanting to beat around the bush considering that Bucky just kissed you in front of somebody you don’t know, something he’s never done before.

The woman turns around and you take in her features. High cheekbones and big green eyes, she’s very beautiful but very… young. Like, really young. Younger than you, for sure, but not a teenager either. She wears what seems to be casual clothes, her nails painted dark with rings crowding her fingers. Her most striking physical detail, though, are the long waves of bright orangey-red hair, flowing across her shoulders.

She smiles at you sweetly, and you feel calm as she introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Wanda.”

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Alright, now that I've been given a few hours to stew and think and cry and have several breakdowns over the cancellation,,, let's talk about how I found this show, my relationship to it, and why I love this show

Anyone who's interacted with me in this fandom, be it over tumblr or in the discord know I started watching because my dance teacher was an extra in the Help! scene (bc I never shut the fuck up about it). But it did start a little earlier.

I had seen a few ads, on NBC and on YouTube. I thought it looked interesting, but I was in sophomore year, having breakdowns just about every other day, the homework was hard, and there were also reports of the virus. At the time it seemed so far away, but I had a feeling it would arrive soon. So it didn't seem like something I could add to my plate. I thought it would simply become another Good Girls to me (aka a show I really wanted to watch, and still kinda do, but I never really got around to it.) So, watching it kind of fell to the back of my mind. And then... that fateful day.

It was a big deal when the teacher would put on the TV in the main studio. It didn't happen often, and when it did, it always had to do with dance in some way. But my teacher was on YouTube and googling Zoey's. We sat down, I even grabbed my glasses so I could see what we were watching. We picked up at the ladies singing "Whatta Man" which the owner of my studio was howling at. I'm lucky enough that two of my teachers have been involved in Smuin Ballet in San Francisco, one still currently in the company (although she just had a baby and... y'know professional dance is hard in the pandemic.) I'm also lucky enough to have met another former Smuin dancer who was also an extra in the Help! scene. So, my teacher pointed himself and the other former Smuin dancer out, funnily enough, they were similarly dressed. So, the scene ended and we went on with our class. I went home and put on the first episode.

And then... well we all know what happened next. The US went into lockdown, and there wasn't much to do.

And yeah, I had school. I went into the two five pm history classes I had, I still had homework,,, but other than those two history classes and the occasion english class there was nothing... dance had stopped, homework, class, and the workload changed. Suddenly, I was left with a lot of free time. So, continued to watch Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist. For a while, it was Killing Eve and Zoey's Playlist, but then that went away, and it was just Zoey.

(also, yes, I'm aware this isn't linear and in chronological order, but give me a break, my memory is already shit and this pandemic just made it worse.)

In April, I wrote my first fanfiction for the show. It was this small, little piece of fluff that showed a future Zimon and their four kids (four kids, Jesus Christ, what was I onnnnnn). It's already outdated bc of my use of Eddie and not Perry but I still hold it very dear to my heart. It was posted on ao3 on Jun 13, 2020, and was my first fanfic on the site. I've posted more since then, but it's still overwhelmingly zep there, and I currently have two ongoing fanfics. My goal is to become that person in the zep fandom who is known for her works where people perceive Zimon's relationship, in a funny but wrong way (and when I say people, I (mostly) mean Tobin.)

I love Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist. It's made me laugh, made me cry, made me sing along with it, and made me actually fully enter a fandom. I've considered myself in fandom long before Zoey's, but Zoey's actually had me interacting with others. It's technically not my first fandom. I'd say that was Mighty Med, all the way back in sixth grade. But it's the first where I've actively interacted with others and even made an acquaintance (Isabella ily 💗).

Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist had moments that made it hard for me to love it the way I do. There have been some bad writing decisions. I personally don't ship cl*arkeman, even though it's clear they are endgame.

But, I still love it. It was a coping mechanism in a hard time, and I love that it helped me. And I know it helped others as well.

I know not everyone is going to understand my comparison to Cloak and Dagger. They are vastly different shows. But the cancellation... that's what gets me the most about both. They were both canceled in a way where the fandom was going to feel like crap. Both were canceled after two seasons when they had more story to tell. It was done quietly, and there was backlash. Different programs eyed them. The difference is we don't know how this one will end yet. Cloak and Dagger was canceled, and I'll never be the same. I'll never truly be over it. And while I know I'm not in the right headspace to process this cancellation, I think I may be able to find a way. It'll be really, really fucking hard. But I'm slowly getting there with Anne with an E, and I think I could with Zoey's. It was an incredible show while it lasted, and if it's its time to go... I'm glad for the time I had with it and will help keep it going along with others in the fandom. All that being said...

Save Zoey's Playlist

Start petitions (ig, idrk how change.org works), keep it trending on Twitter, let NBC know it made a mistake, and let other streaming services know we're interested in seeing the show go on. It deserves a clean resolution that's not a cliffhanger. Just let these characters be happy in the end.

This doesn't have to be another Cloak and Dagger, or Timeless, or whatever show anyone has felt never got a proper chance to tell its story and end in a satisfying way. It can be another Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or Lucifer, or Friday Night Lights (me, side-eyeing NBC for that one). This doesn't have to be the end. And maybe I'm too late to writing this, maybe it's not trending anymore and it won't trend again, and it won't get picked up. But at least we can say we tried.

This was long as fuck to write, and I could've put that time towards... idk homework ig, or writing the fanfiction I just started, or any of my ongoing two. But it felt it necessary to write this. I don't know why, maybe I just needed to get this shit off my chest. If no one in the fandom reads this... eh, I really can't blame you, it's long as all fuck.

If you did, and you got this far, I love you, I love this fandom, I don't regret my time here, and I hope you don't either. It means the world to me that you read this.

I love you all, and I'll shut up now 💖💗💖💗

[ballerinaroy]

healer!hermione and auror!ron (pretty please)

Interesting. So, Hermione is the only one I’ve never headcannoned as a Healer so this was a whole new thought exercise.

Completely AU. Hermione went to school in France and is in England to learn about traumatic magical healing.

~~~

“Again?” Hermione asked as she walked into the room.

“One of these days you will be happy to see me,” Ron teased.

“Mmh, well, I might be happier to see you if one of your limbs wasn’t about to fall off.” She replied. “Who knows, maybe one of these days we’ll run into each other and you won’t be inches from death.”

“Are you asking me out Healer Granger?” he asked and she blushed. “I didn’t know you were so desperate to see me outside of the hospital.”

“That would be entirely inappropriate Auror Weasley.” She reminded him. “I am your Healer.”

“Call me Ron,” he said with a smile.

“Then it’s Hermione.”

They smiled at one another, the familiar dance they did whenever they met. The teasing, the flirting, the rejection, and the approval of using one another’s names. He’d been her most frequent flyer in the nine months she’d been doing the exchange at St. Mongos, and it was always the same. Well, ever since they’d gotten over their initial meeting with the cussing and her “Fucking god awful” bedside manner.

“Anything exciting this weekend?” Hermione asked as she set about clearing the wound on his left leg. 

“No, no, just recovering from this,” Ron replied, proving himself up on his elbows to look at her. “Dinner at the Burrow, maybe a match if Harry’s free.”

Her other frequent patient. And usually together. Though, Harry had always been much more quiet than Ron. Less of a shouter too.

“Well, this should be healed by tomorrow,” Hermione told him. “No reason to cancel plans.”

“And yourself?” Ron asked. “Got a hot date?”

She giggled, shaking her head. “No, no, nothing like that.” She paused, hesitating as she had been for a month now to say it. “Actually, I’m going to be spending most of my weekend packing.”

“What?” Ron asked, sitting up straighter.

“I’m-well, I’m moving back to France in a few weeks.”

She didn’t know why she’d been so hesitant to tell him. It wasn’t like she had to. None of her other patients had been notified. But it had felt wrong not telling him.

“Why?” he asked.

“My posting is over,” Hermione said, pausing her work and meeting his eye. “It’s been a really interesting experience, intense, but, it’s time to go home.”

She left out the part about her already extending her six-month stay by three months. And the fact that she’d asked about another extension only to find the flat she’d been renting was already promised to another tenant.

“I had no idea,” Ron said stupidly. He fell onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “When do you leave?”

“Three weeks, well, two from this Friday.”

“So soon.” He sounded disappointed and it made her surprisingly light inside.

Hermione resumed her work, watching his face out of the corner of her eye. For the first time in months their appointment was completely silent and though Hermione didn’t rush their conversation never picked up again. It made her lonely, more so knowing her times left seeing him were numbered.

“All done,” Hermione said, at last, hand wrapping a plaster around the wound. He looked startled to see her stand up and frowned down at the white bulge. “Keep your weight off it as much as you can, don’t get it wet until morning, twenty-four hours if you can manage it, and then you can take off the wrapping and apply the gel I’ll grab for you.”

He didn’t respond for a good minute after she finished talking. “Sorry, I just…I’d no idea you were leaving so soon. I feel like I should be throwing you a goodbye party or something.”

Hermione opened her mouth to accept but before even her brain could warn her off Ron let out a chuckle.

“Only you couldn’t attend, could you? Be some party without the guest of honor.”

“Right,” Hermione said, trying to keep her boundaries. “I’ll, uh, go get that gel.”

She rushed from the room, her eyes burning and face suddenly very hot. Hermione felt like crying and she wasn’t entirely sure why. He was just a patient. One that made her laugh, sure, but their interactions were so scripted. She had no business being so sad over saying goodbye to him.

“Here we are,” she said, coming back into the room to find him with his shoes back on.

When she handed him the gel their hands brushed together and braved she didn’t know she had ignited in her.

“I’m not going to be your Healer in a couple of weeks,” she blurted out.

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Next Friday, is my last day here and then I’ve got another week before I’m leaving so if you…if you’d like to get drinks then that would be perfectly acceptable.”

He was staring at her blank-faced and Hermione wondered suddenly if this wasn’t how he was with every woman. If those special things he’d made her feel he hadn’t made hundreds of women feel.

“You know,” she said, her face heating up as she tried to take it back. “As a way to say-“

“I’d love to,” he said earnestly and her worries fell away. “Dinner, even, you said next Friday? What time do you get off?”

“Seven,” she answered, those giddy feelings back. “I could meet you at seven.”

“Brilliant,” Ron said and he was grinning as stupidly as she.  “Um, I can’t think of the name of a single restaurant in this whole bloody city right now, but if you give me your address, I’ll owl you?”

“Alright,” she agreed, tearing a scrap of parchment from his chart and scribbling it down. He looked it over, and then up at her. “Next Friday then.”

“Unless I see you first,” he said, his usual teasing face back.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned him sternly.

“I’m only joking.” He told her, getting to his feet and testing his weight on the foot. He stepped closer to her and she found she didn’t mind being so close even though he towered over her. “I wouldn’t want to be injured for our date.”

My ask box is open!

[thatgirlwhowrites01]

hot head

part 11 | masterlist

social media au

zuko x reader

this is a very long and fluffy update and I hope it makes up for my lack of posting these past couple days 🥺🥺💕💕💕

Zuko POV

“What is your partner’s name again?”

“Uncle, they aren’t my partner,” carrying a tray of used tea cups towards the back of the shop, I cleared my throat as I set it down by the sink for washing later. “Their name is y/n.” I folded my arms across my chest and faced towards Iroh, a grin displayed clearly.

“You’re telling me that my nephew is doing all this work for a friend?” he laughed.

“I’m doing all this work because you’re letting us stay in the loft,” my hands pointed to the stairs, “Besides, I owe them a favor and they’ve never been to Ba Sing Se, it’s the least I could do.” Which wasn’t a complete lie. I did owe them a favor, after everything I did I’m surprised they even responded to my initial dm. The only problem was keeping uncle out of the loop. He always had a knack for knowing when I was being sneaky and although it was a sense that came in handy when I was a child, as a fully capable adult it has now become annoying.

“What do you plan on doing tonight?”

“Um, I’m not too sure, I’m just planning on showing them the main spots of the city and then maybe some dinner.” I tried to play it off cool, but inside my heart was pounding at a rate far from healthy.

“Just make sure when you guys get back to lock the doors and wash any dishes you use, I’ll be in around nine in the morning tomorrow.”

“I will, don’t worry.” I watched as uncle took the shop key off the hook on the back wall. He tossed it to me with a wink, “Have fun Zuko.”

The shop was now mine for the night and I still had a couple hours before I had to leave to pick y/n up. There wasn’t much left to do since I had been here all day to help with customers and cleaning. I finished setting up the loft early this morning, it wasn’t anything super fancy. A couch that could be folded into a bed was pressed to the side wall and a nice mattress layed towards the back. I set up some fairy lights and a couple lanterns placed on tables around the room to add a relaxed ambience when lit tonight.

I can’t explain the feelings I’m having, nervous? Excited? I’m not sure, it’s hard to say. When Azula first told me about y/n she described them as this ugly, manipulative, mean person. But they aren’t like that at all. I remember when I first watched their video, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of them. They were beautiful, and the way they laughed made me feel warm inside, something I haven't felt in a long time. Azula insisted they were bad, and unfortunately I believed her. When they retaliated against me I didn’t know how to act, it filled me with rage because no one ever retaliates against me. I genuinely did hate them for a while but when the private investigator told me about what happened with their mom I wanted to take everything back. They had already been through so much and I was taking away something that could potentially work out really well. Despite what happened in the past I want this night to be a sort of ‘peace treaty’ if possible.

Y/N POV

The circumstances weren’t exactly ideal.. Zuko, the one who bullied me relentlessly with his twitter fingers was going to be my tour guide of Ba Sing Se for the night. The warnings from Katara and all my other friends wouldn’t leave my head and I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that they were right. I did forgive too easily, but it was too late to cancel and plus I’ve never been to the city before.

I packed a small bag with a change of clothes and a couple miscellaneous items, being unsure of what the night would bring I made sure to pack some pepper spray too. I don’t think Zuko would try to hurt me, but being in a big city with one of the biggest jerks I know I had to come prepared.

It’s nearing five in the afternoon and my nerves are starting to get the better of me. Anytime now Zuko would be here and I’m starting to realize how awful this situation is. I could taste blood in my mouth from chewing on the inside of my cheek, “fuck,” I said while reaching for my phone. Almost on instinct my fingers swiped to Katara’s name in my contacts. The monotone ring droned on until I heard her pick up on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Katara, I’m freaking out, Zuko’s gonna be here at any moment and I don’t know what to do,”

“Hey it’s gonna be okay, are you sure you want to do this? I can always just make up an excuse for you so you don’t have to go?” I can tell she desperately wants me to say yes, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“No it’s okay, I just really need someone to talk to until he gets here,”

“Okay, I promise it’s gonna be alright. You’ve got a whole army waiting up tonight to make sure you’ll be okay. Sokka, Suki, and Toph are gonna come over to Aang’s house with me and we’re not going to sleep until you’re back at wherever you’re staying.”

“Okay,” I laughed “If I don’t send updates by 11 send someone”

“Will do, Toph said she’s been ready to practice some knew boxing moves”

“Can’t wait,”

Our conversation went on for several minutes until I heard a knock on my door. “Coming!” I yelled and quickly ended the call, rushing to grab my bag. My hand curled around the handle and realization hit when I opened the door to see Zuko holding a bouquet of sunflowers. I smiled “Are these for me?”

“Yeah, I figured it’s the least I could do to make up for stuff.”

“Thank you,”

He seemed different than in his videos. His face was softer and his voice less harsh. I followed him to his car which was, to put it lightly, much nicer than my mini-van. I’m not even a car person but it was polished black with dark tinted windows and red rims, definitely something I could see him driving. He opened my door,  allowing me to slide in and fully appreciate the car. Leather seats accompanied a ‘new car’ smell and the front displayed a touch screen for controls. Shitty person or not, he rides in style.

After pulling away from my apartment the car fills with a low volume of slow RnB, “I’m not too sure if you  have anything specific in mind that you want to do, so I figured I’d show you my favorite parts of the city and grab something to eat, maybe some drinks?”

“That sounds great to me,” I smiled.

The rest of the car ride was silent, but with the mix of the sun close to setting, RnB, and the scenery I didn’t feel the need to talk. For a Friday night the traffic wasn’t that bad, we worked our way through it easily and stopped outside of a tea shop.

“This is my Uncle’s shop, there’s a loft on the top he said we could use for the night.”

“That’s so nice of him,  I’ll have to come back sometime to say thank you.”

I waited behind Zuko as he fiddled with the door. Now that I am standing next to him it was clear how muscular he was. The tight green shirt fit snug around his shoulders and biceps, his back muscles flexed while giggling the door handle. Finally it popped open and my focus changed to the space we were entering. It was cute and tiny, tables lined the walls and the bar had several stools flipped on top. I followed Zuko as he climbed the stairs to the loft.

“I washed and made the bed for you so you don’t have to worry about bugs or  anything,” Zuko pointed to the bed. I walked over to throw my bag down on the mattress “This place is so adorable, I love it!”

“Tea is my uncle's passion, when I was younger and he first started this shop I worked for him. This place is practically my home away from home.” He sat down on the couch facing me.”

I nodded, taking the place in. Fairy lights danced around the ceiling twinkling in a way that was mesmerizing. “Are you hungry?” Zuko asked.

“Is that even a question?” we both shared a laugh, “Come one, I know the best place for some pho.”

***

“And then, I practically threw up all over the place!” I laughed uncontrollably through my mouth full of pho,  “I can’t believe that,  in the middle of church?!” Zuko’s comment made me laugh even harder. “I swear! My mom was so mad it took everything in her power to not to drag me out by my hair!”

The night was going incredibly well. After a couple awkward ice breakers we somehow got on the subject of disappointing our parents and now we were the loudest table in the restaurant. Zuko was so much easier to talk to than I expected, and we had a lot in common.

“Excuse me, but would you and your partner like any dessert?” I was too busy laughing, I didn't even see the waiter approaching.

“Oh, they aren’t my partner.” I couldn’t help but snort which in turn made Zuko start laughing again, “I think we’re ready for the check if that’s alright” he said with as much composure and he could muster. I waited until the waiter was out of sight, “Partner” I snorted again. “Hey, the guy was just trying to find out if you were single,” I rolled my  eyes at Zuko’s comment. “Whatever..”

“It’s the truth! I bet everytime you go out you’re bombarded with people trying to get  with you!”

“Mhmm for sure, but I only  grace them with attention if they can guess my favorite color.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Zuko stared at me, rolling his lips to hide his smile.

“Why would you want to know? Are you trying to gain my attention?”

“I just want to make sure I know who I’m dealing with, they say you can learn a lot from people’s favorite color you know..”

“And who exactly is ‘they’?” I asked while crossing my arms.

“I prefer to keep that a secret.” He said while mimicking my stance.

We laughed together again at the stupidity of our argument. The waiter came back with the check and I reached for the cash I brought but before I could even get it to the table Zuko handed him a few $20’s telling him to keep the change. Warmth rose to my face “Thank you, I could’ve at least split it with you,”

“No worries, this is your trip and I wanna make it special.” he smiled, “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

We began walking the silent streets of Ba Sing Se, I admired all the little shops along the way. There was so much to do here and so many different people to meet. I think I have fallen in love with the city. When we came upon a small turn Zuko asked me to close my eyes.

“Why?” I smiled, I didn’t really care for the reason but I enjoyed teasing him.

“Just do it,”

With my eyes closed he grabbed my hand. I felt a jolt of energy race through my body. His hands were warm and calloused and much bigger than mine. The same warmth I felt at dinner returned as I tried suppressing my smile to no avail.

“You’re gonna love this.” he said, I could almost see his grin in my imagination. As he guided me I could hear water splashing and turtle ducks quacking. I was so excited I almost opened my eyes. Eventually he stopped me, “Can I open my eyes now?” I asked, wanting to know what he had led me to. “One sec,”

He shifted behind me, I could tell he was standing close because the heat radiating off of his body touched the back of my neck. “Okay, open.”

I was greeted with the sight of a beautiful fountain lit from all around, I felt like I had entered another world. It was so beautiful, the lights reflecting off the water made it even brighter. “What do you think?”

“Zuko, this is so pretty. I love it”

“I’m glad, this is one of my favorite spots. Especially at night.”

“I can see why,”

He made his way right next to me. We were standing so close our fingers grazed each other. I smiled at him nervously, unsure of what to do. “Do you want to feed the turtle ducks? I’ve got some bread”

“Yes!!” I said while practically running towards the animals in the fountain. I sat on the ledge which was a bit wet but not uncomfortable and Zuko took a seat next to me pulling a bag out of his pocket. He handed me a couple pieces to throw into the fountain and I wasted no time throwing it in.

They swarmed the area close to us splashing water as they ate. Zuko and I krept closer and closer together, if I moved my head it would bump into his shoulder.

I felt his hand fall on top of mine and I looked up. His eyes looked into mine and fell to my lips, the tension building had me leaning closer. His hand came up to gently cup my cheek while my eyes fluttered closed. Our lips met  with a heat, my breath caught in my chest due to the sudden sensation.

The kiss was slow, but short. This was better than the kiss Haru and I shared back at Aang’s grandparent’s house. This was electric and made me feel something.  We pulled away, my forehead falling on his. I could feel my heart beating through my chest.

This felt right.

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[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2673

bro i almost went to bed without posting??? like i set my alarms and tossed my phone away and took off my glasses and then i realized?? i hadn't written??? fucking nuts, bro.

anyway, today was fine. student cancelled today, so i didn't need to work. stayed in bed forever, so i got up and threw on what i wore yesterday to go play d&d at joel's, stopped at starbucks on the way and got as much chocolate as i could, went to d&d, had an absolute blast, hung around a bit, came home, watched tv, came up to bed, and then i've been reading fanfics that have been sitting in my email inbox for a while.

today's session was so good, oh my god. amber and sebastian told each other they loved each other for the first time. we were in skullport and invading an island of slavers to take it down and shit and we succeeded on all parts but the last bit was going into this tower called the tower of seven woes, and i couldn't go in because my god and the god of this other religion are mortal enemies so if i went in i'd have like, triple disadvantage or some shit because that god would know.

so they all suffered through the seven woes, which included sadness, grief, guilt, and heartbreak, among other things, and amber, knowing this, knows that sebastian is gonna have to go through this shit, and she knows he watched her die in his arms, and you can't get much more heartbreaking than watching the person you love die in your arms.

so, after a nerve-wracking experience with the leader of this group and the owner of the fucking tower itself, and after realizing that the acoustics for this stupid tower are good enough for the people inside to hear her, amber called up to see what floor they were on, and they were on the one just before heartbreak, so she called up to see how he was doing and he came to the window eventually and like, she told him she knew what the next level was gonna be, and she wanted to tell him she was right here, that she'd be waiting for him to come back down, and he basically screams out the window, "I LOVE YOU" for everyone to hear. so of course, ever the romantic, she screams "I LOVE YOU" back up to him, and then when he went to the next level our DM let casey have advantage on her saving throw because love saved the day or some shit lmao, it was fucking incredible.

they finally came back down from suffering on every one of the seven levels of this godforsaken tower, and rescuing the people at the top, and then burning the tower to the ground. amber rushed over to sebastian, and just kind of held onto him for dear life, because she could hear his cries and his screams all the way at the bottom and she couldn't do anything about it, and he had to relive watching her die over and over and over again, so they just clung to each other for a hot minute while emotions calmed down a little bit. but amber was definitely crying. she doesn't get shaken easily. she fuckin sassed the nine arch mates of skullport and got hit by a lightning bolt because of it, and didn't even blink. but that whole ordeal, like, pushed her to the limits she had and broke them almost entirely.

on the way back to waterdeep, hand in hand, sebastian told her that it was probably a good idea she didn't go in, because her whole life was filled with so much pain that it would've been incredibly hard for her to make it through, never mind make it out.

and as i was on my way home, i realized that despite all of the years of loss and death and destruction that have followed her, and the shit she's run headlong into because she needs to protect the people she loves, and how she's eventually lost all of them, it's taken her another forty years, but she's found the courage to love again. she figures her first husband, the one who died protecting their children, would be proud of her for being able to move on, despite the pain. that despite the lack of closure, she's found love in the most unlikely of places. that she's willing to love despite the risks and despite all of it, she's stronger than the pain.

and i realized i need to write out amber's wholeass life because i wanna read about it.

okay now i'm crying again. i just love amber so much. her and sebastian are just wonderful and i adore them so much.

it also gives me an opportunity to flirt during the game, so it gives me a fun outlet for exasperation and affection while i'm playing.

yeah.

i'm very attached to her. i feel like amber is my ideal self. she is sassy and hilarious and has a scottish accent when i can remember to do it, but she loves with her whole heart and is generally happy, but is also a badass with a wide streak of bloodlust. i fucking love her.

also the height difference between her and sebastian is hilarious. sebastian is a half-elf, standing six feet tall.

amber is a dwarf.

she is four feet tall.

sebastian literally has to bend over to talk to her, or has to pick her up or kneel on the ground to be at her height. so if he eventually proposes to her, if he kneels to do so he'll be looking straight at her.

that'll be funny.

and speaking of me being in love with people, i'm going shopping with joel tomorrow so he has stuff to wear to work. i'm hoping sales are still happening so he can get some good stuff at a good price, because we both BROKE. love that. i'm so happy he has a job now.

that's all, i think. i'll have to start writing about amber after the semester is over.

[marvelsswansong]

Welcome back!!! I agree with that anon, the bodyguard au with Bucky was amazing. Um would it be okay if I requested Steve Rogers with 43 and the childhood games aesthetic?

43: “Marry me. I know we never talked about it before, but marry me.”

tags: quarantine situation, steve being a sly cutie, marriage proposal, fluffy asf

word count: 1.1K

a/n: this takes place in quarantine and is fluffy fluffy fluffy so it’s ultra-realistic for your reading pleasure. (also this is a repost, previous post’s tags were not working xx)

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“Doll?”

Steve called out for you, craning his neck over the staircase. Upon hearing no response, he frowned, and slowly made his descent down the stairs. You weren’t in the shared master bedroom, or in the indoor gym, or in the kitchen. He was pretty sure you hadn’t gone out grocery shopping or swimming by the lake, at least not without a note or a text. He stopped when he saw a figure laying on the living room floor, your hair messily spread over the carpet as you stared at the ceiling.

You’d slowly grown to hate the mint green paint on the ceiling from seeing it every single day for the past five weeks. The quarantine had been brutal, to say the least, coupled with the anxiety of being stuck inside most of the time and the fact that you and Steve had intended to stay in this remote cabin for a sweet two week getaway before returning to New York. A flight, which had now been cancelled, due to the virus.

You’d scrubbed the floors at least a hundred times, sorted out all the trash, did the laundry, organized all the dishes, binged every series on Netflix you could think of. The same monotonous but needed chores, multiple times a day, with the occasional break to finish up mission reports you’d put off or an outside jog or a swim. You supposed that was the nice part about being in this cabin miles away from New York- it was in the middle of the forrest, twenty minutes to the nearest grocery store. So you rarely had to worry about running into someone were you to go outside for some sun.

But the weather wasn’t so amicable today, the sky a dreary grey pouring down rain that pelted against your windows. The constant rhythmic tapping of the water against the glass was good white noise, you supposed, perfect for laying down on the carpeted floor of the living room and staring at the ceiling out of pure boredom. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear Steve come into the room, pulling you up by your arms and sitting you down on his lap.

“Laying down like that is bad for your back, you know.” he whispered, brushing a stray hair aside. You lazily smiled, looking up at him in surprise.

“I thought you were going to finish up some mission reports.”

“I was… but then the weather turned sour and I assumed you wouldn’t be going out for your daily swim in the lake.” Thunder echoed outside as if to punctuate Steve’s point and you sighed, burying your head into his shoulder.

“I’m so fucking bored, Steve. What are we gonna do for the next month or two of quarantine?”

His eyes lit up and he carefully put you down on the sofa. You pouted at the loss of warmth but stared, intrigued, as he retrieved something from the table in front. Blowing off the dust that covered the surface of the game, he smiled, pushing forward the box onto your hands.

“Scrabble?”

You traced the font engraved into the box and looked at your boyfriend, a curious twinkle in your eye as you removed the top. He took the bottom from you and laid out the board, retrieving the pouch with letters and placing the box to the side. He sat cross legged on the floor across from you, his muscles flexing underneath the sweatpants.

“I used to play scrabble as a kid. Me, Buck, some of the neighbourhood kids.”

“I didn’t know scrabble already existed back in the 1800’s.” you teased, earning an exasperated look from Steve.

“I’m not that old, doll.”

“Oh yeah? Beat me first and then we can talk.”

Steve starts first, spelling out the word “red” vertically down three tiles. You furrow your eyebrows, contemplating on your next movie, before placing down a “s” and an “a”, spelling out the word “sea” in the middle. It went on like this, spelling out easy simple words for the next few turns, before space on the board started to run out.

“Your turn.” he said quietly, his blue eyes more focused on you than the game. But you were so focused on winning, your steely eyes burning holes into the board, that you didn’t notice that Steve’s mind was somewhere else. You weren’t wearing anything fancy- if anything, you were just lying on the floor, the long t-shirt that originally belonged to Steve covering you to right above your knees and fuzzy socks covering your feet.

Your gaze never left the board, allowing Steve to retrieve the pouch with the letters and slip the ring in. He quickly retracted his hand, waiting patiently for you to finish your turn.

“Done!”

Steve just smiled and handed you the pouch, swallowing nervously as you excitedly stuck your hand in and started to pull out some of the letters. Your face scrunched up when you felt something cold and hard amongst the pieces, prompting you to pull it out.

A ring.

He was on one knee before you could say anything, his hand shakily taking the ring from you and holding it up to your eye level.

“Marry me.”

You stared at him, bewildered at the sudden engagement.

“I know we never talked about it before, but marry me. I’ve had the ring with me for a few months but it never felt like the right time, a-and every time I see you around this house, I can’t help but imagine you doing that as a wife. Baking cookies for our kids. Passing out on the sofa in my t-shirt and with this ring on your finger. I want the whole nine yards with you, and I want our own house and maybe a few kids and a real nice dog-”

You were still speechless, tears gathering in your eyes, as Steve nervously chuckled and swore.

“God, sorry, I forgot the most of the speech and I just sprung it onto you in the middle of a fucking scrabble game, I’m sorry, uh-” he started putting the ring away in his pocket when you crashed into him, grabbing his face with your hands and kissing him repeatedly.

“Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

Steve gave you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, pure joy radiating from his face as he slid the cool metal onto your finger.

“Does this mean I win the scrabble game?” you joked, gesturing to the mess of letters now sprawled all over the carpet. Steve chuckled, stealing a kiss from your lips before rubbing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

“Sure. But I win you, and I think that’s more important.”