#normally I just buy her a present and avoid the whole card thing but this year she specifically requested money

[joyridingmp3]

yeaaaahh

[talenlee]

20 Years Married

This is a messed up number. 20 years is a person. 20 years is a whole ass person. 20 years is a person who has opinions and gets into fights on the internet about how to properly format a ship name. 20 years is the longest project I’ve ever done and all I had to do for the majority of it was show up. 20 years is just a big slush of now all in my memory, obviously not right now but close enough to now that it’s not a lifetime ago.

It’s just… sure. Now I’m 41. I’ve been married to Fox for 20 years.

I am 21. I have just become married. The wedding ceremony was strange, because I’m sure I was involved in making choices but I couldn’t tell you what they were. We had a profiterole cake. Fox cut it with an axe. The day after this event we go to the prerelease for the Magic The Gathering set 5th Dawn. Fox plays in it too, despite not liking it. In the prerelease pool, she opens a foil Platinum Angel. I wind up getting that pool. When I place fourth in the tournament or something like that, I give her the card. I am vaguely haunted to this day of potential poor sportsmanship play with an opponent who by no doubts was a child.

I am 23. A friend, inspired by the Valentines day free trial events invites us to play City of Heroes with them. Fox plays around in the character maker, and spends hours making characters that wind up becoming mainstays of just our everyday conversation. We don’t know how years later, we wind up standing in the game as the servers shut down. Backbeat stands atop a Kings Row skyscraper as the server shuts down, and bellows with tears in her eyes This is my city. It goes dark.

I am 25. D&D 4th edition has been released to much fanfare. Fox and I have moved to a new house, in a place that used to be called Steeltown, with our pet ferrets. I am reluctant to enjoy this new system, disliking the skill system simplification and the way that the multiclassing and prestige class system has been stripped out in favour of a more ‘approachable’ system. A friend points out to me that the system makes her more likely to play, and isn’t that the thing I actually care about? Fox expresses how the rules for 4th edition make her more likely to want to run a game rather than just play in them. I don’t know when I came to like the system more, but these two moments are part of it.

I am 29. Fox is struggling with University. I spend my days repairing computers for a charity store. We save money as best we can between conventions to make enough money to sell art and prints and commissions of her work, as I crew the table. A friend has started up making miniatures and run an indiegogo campaign because kickstarter didn’t exist in Australia yet. Fox is struggling with University. Our pets aren’t doing great, because they’re delicate little creatures. Fox is struggling. I don’t know what I can do and how I can help. I don’t know if I do.

I am 30. Fox hears my anxiety about having never successfully made anything, about my starting university, and presents me with a blog. It is named after an AI that lived in the head of one of my City of Heroes characters, and is itself a reference to the way DOS videogame files would start. She tells me she knows I need something, some place to write, something to just have in case I want it. It’s a WordPress blog, something she’s very proud of getting to work so well so easily. She gets better and better at Cascading Style Sheets.

I am 31. I have started University. The last of the ferrets die. In the process of medicating the last of them, I had to administer honey to him. We don’t keep honey in the house any more because the smell upsets Fox. I didn’t realise that she avoided the honey I kept in the house until I am 39, and stopped buying it when I became the primary shopper. This feels like it’s part of ‘now,’ something documentable on the blog, something normal and everyday. It is ten years ago. Sometime between here and next year, we get Elli and Fox gets a job. Elli does something for Fox I can’t do, and the struggle becomes less like a wall and more like steps.

I am 32. Fox guides me through the process of turning my game design Middleware into a professionally presented and formatted game. It is very hard to do. I do not like feeling like I am being corrected on things that seem to me like they don’t matter. I go along with it because I trust her but I do not like doing so and I can tell that I am being frustrated at every step. I know I’m bad at this, I know I’m so awful at being a coworker. I feel so bad about what I’m doing and then being told I’m not doing it good enough just makes me want to give up. I don’t. We make things. We go to conventions and we sell things.

I am 35. Fox comes out to me as asexual (autochorissexual to be specific).

I am 37. The Pandemic becomes the most important thing in the world. Every protocol in my life has to adapt because Fox is in an at-risk group for COVID. I start wearing a mask and doing the shopping to minimise her exposure to risk factors. I become concerned that I’m doing something that deprives her of agency because she can’t do things with me in public the same way. I still wear a mask every time I leave the house. I still worry about that.

I am 40.

I am 15. I am at anime club and there is this lady there, who looks older than me, more thoughtful, and she’s laughing and joking and enjoying anime and talking about around me. I’m too shy to talk. I don’t know how to start a conversation. I run my mouth to someone else and get in trouble for spoilers. I wind up offering her some chocolate and run in fear.

I am 41.

Every night, for the past twenty years, I have said the same thing, every day, as the last thing I say. I tell Fox I love her.

I have a rule that I don’t go to bed until I think I can do that. It keeps me from going to bed and sulking. It keeps me from being bitter and cruel. It keeps me from thinking of my angers and unhappiness as that important, because if they were, it wouldn’t be something I can put aside in the name of going to sleep.

It’s hard to signify twenty years. It’s not some grand or significant project. It’s just now. It’s normal. It’s a decision I made when I was seventeen and committed to when I was twenty one. And I’m glad I get to keep doing it, and keep saying the same thing, every night, and hopefully get better at all the things I’m bad at in this big project.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[here4theheartbreak]

Look at all those pretty photocards!! Amazing~~! The bread ones are sooo cute! 🍞 I HOPE YOU CAN GET/TRADE FOR ALL THE ONES YOU WANT ✨💛 I don't collect photocards because I think it would drive me insane and it might become the start of my villain origin story. Although, I am contemplating buying the fan kit this year because of the tarot-type cards. It's crazy how the kit is £12 but the shipping is £30. Still, I might get it, we'll see.😩🤣

It's so tragic but so true! Someone being... or appearing to be... a decent celebrity is SO rare that it's both thrilling and baffling when you find someone that seems genuinely good. The bar is THAT low. It's lower than low. It's like we're measuring it from the other side of the planet. You've gotta go through the core of the earth and back out again to discover how low the bar actually is.

It honestly seems pretty easy not to use gendered language in songs? Especially in Korean songs? Because it doesn't seem that necessary linguistically? I mean, you don't even use she/he/they to describe your pets, it's always just 'the dog', or 'our cat', or their actual name. 🤷‍♀️

I also agree that using 'girl' in fan songs feels especially alienating. I was actually thinking about this at the Yongguk concert last week. My man was singing 'all my girls be smiling, all my girls be wilding' with his whole chest at the fans and I'm like 'but bro I can see at least three guys from here'. It felt like such a shame in a way? I know it wasn't his intention, but it feels exclusionary to me (and I'm saying that as a part of the 'target' audience). In the future, I hope more artists make their music gender neutral. 🧡✨

Plus, in love songs, let's be real, you can just use 'you' or avoid using pronouns altogether. It's not that hard? And it instantly makes your song a song for everyone?? And it makes it a song that your fans can sing thinking about anyone?? It makes so much sense. In fact, it actually makes MORE sense to do that.

That's the dream! That's the K-pop utopia. Honestly, I wish every fan, of every group, would be seen (and treated) as a fan first and foremost — regardless of their gender identity and/or their presentation. (And the same goes for things like age, race, appearance etc.) A fan is a fan. It SHOULD be that simple. Everyone who's buying albums, going to fansigns, waiting in line, showing up at shows, they're all there for the same reason, with the same heart, and the same passion. It seems so simple and so obvious to me that it's always jarring to realise, over and over again, that that's just NOT how it happens a lot (most?) of the time.

We've learnt the hard way! 😂 Vetting and investigating a group is basically ingrained in me at this point. It's future damage control. It's at-the-door vibe checking. I just don't want to actively support/invest in someone I wouldn't support in my actual life, I don't want to support someone who wouldn't support me, I don't want to support someone who I believe wouldn't stand up for a marginalised person, I don't want to support someone whose persona/personality I have to keep making excuses for. I'm not an idiot. I know they're all normal people. I know even the 'good' ones are almost certainly gonna make a few 'mistakes'. BUT some of these people... jfc.👀 And I don't mind listening to artists casually, and not caring about their 'brand', as it were, but if I'm investing in someone I want to feel confident(?) comfortable(?) at ease(?) in doing so.

THIS! Seeing someone for yourself tells you/shows you such a lot. Going off secondhand accounts is never ideal for building up an image of someone and/or their behaviour. Videos reveal a lot, especially when that person doesn't know the recording is going anywhere. Personally (secondhand account incoming), I knew Ateez were good since their hi touch back in the day because my mom loves ateez, and she went before me in the line, and I got to see exactly how they treated her, and how they spoke to her, and how they looked at her as she moved on to the next member. And they were not only super excited to see her but they were also VERY polite and took a little extra time to say hello. So, from then on, I was like, if nothing else, they have impeccable manners. So, let that be confirmed once and for all... 😂🌸

That's actually SO true. They could easily be more neutral in their support. They never had to do any of those things to that degree. They could definitely do less and still be seen as decent people. Very decent people, even. Honestly, you only engage in that way, that consistently, if you genuinely want to. (And I hope they do lose a few anti-lgbt fans every time they engage with the community. Byeeeee~!)

I forgot about the whole 'the group colour should be a rainbow' thing! 🌈🥺 I loved the thanxx styling so much! I would get a little rainbow coloured 'thanxx' tattoo in a heartbeat. What a great thing that was. All those tiny rainbows everywhere. We were so blessed!!

Ateez are not afraid to play boy/boy when they do those kinds of things. You never really know what you're gonna get! I love that they'll just do it. And that it's never the basis of a bad joke. They just enjoy it and have fun, and no one is thinking too hard about it. It just is.

Yeosang, our strong but tiny man. The members. The company staff. Most of the fans. We're all just out here waiting to do whatever Kang Yeosang wants us to do. Everyone's desperate to be of service. He tells us to jump... and we're all clamouring to find out how high.

THE NEW HAIR COLOURS!!! The return of blonde Yunho? Red-brown Jongho?? Red San??? Neon green Yeosang???? AMAZING. A M A Z I N G 💚

Also, I saw that clip of San complaining about how Atiny draw him again this morning and it really makes me laugh every time! The man is so serious and so offended... but it looks exactly like him when he smiles?? Good job Atiny. You're absolutely right. ✨🎨

Someday I will be able to answer an ask in a reasonable amount of time I stg.

Anyways. Oh I was very weak. And ended up with a whole new stack of Outlaws 🙈 - in my defense! I was ordering sth from a KR shop that I like for a couple of my friends and the albums are so much cheaper over there (like 14 usd for a regular version and like 10 usd for a platform) - it’s just the shipping that is high, and since I was already placing an order for folks, it didn’t actually raise the shipping all that much to add in a few >.> more albums… And I may or may not have broken down and gotten a lightstick. (Again - so much cheaper from KR, esp if you’re already placing a big order, it only bumps the shipping up a few dollars.) I also ended up getting a couple platforms; a few of the pcs in them (the album ones in particular) are so cute and I figured I’d grab a couple random ones and see what I got.

So here’s my new set of pulls >.> I’m delighted with the SanSang unit pcs - I was already eyeing buying them bc they’re so cute, the scream I let out when I pulled them.

And bc my friends all collect these other members I’ve been able to trade for a few more that I want >.> Including peeking Wooyoung 😭.

The platforms tho - cracked me up - random, ofc - but I got San for one pack, and was so delighted - I also pulled Wooyoung’s sticker in that pack lol. The second pack I pulled was Wooyoung and believe it or not… I pulled San’s sticker in his! 🤣Apparently can’t keep them apart even in random album inclusions lmao - Here’s those sets.

Honestly - I was looking at PC templates last night to see who/what all I wanted and I realized that if I was to collect all of these pcs I would 100% lose my mind, there’s like 60 per member per comeback what the fuck. So Instead I’ve made a list of the few that I find really really cute and want and will slowly gather them over the months.

I ended up lucking out in a major way last week and found someone selling a lot of about 25 albums, with all inclusions except pcs, for what amounted to under 6usd per album. They span from debut to Fever pt 3; there’s a number of duplicates but I don’t mind that so much, since it lets me pick and choose which version I want, and then I can easily resell the ones I don’t need, or gift them to my friends. It’s the entire Treasure series tho, which I have been trying to find for a decent price for weeks V_V

Even a couple of duplicates of some of them, I was so excited bc I know a couple folks in my friend group here that are looking for some of the ones that are duplicated so I can offload them pretty quick. So once that comes in, I think i’ll have all their KR releases (and I don’t collect JPN albums for any group but SHINee bc they simply don’t display as well in jewel cases 🤷🏻‍♂️ - and I collect for display and also bc I do genuinely like looking through the phonebooks more than once, so JPN releases usually are lacking that anyways unless you get the limited ones.

Anyways - I saw the fan kit! I love the tarot type set up, it’s so cute. I absolutely adore tarot cards and prophecy type cards and collect fun decks, so I knew I needed to have it, I ordered it last week - I’d been intending on getting the membership anyways. I’m so used to excessively high shipping bc I tend to order my stuff from KR when I can (it usually arrives way faster and the price over there plus shipping is about equal to the price from US based shops bc they raise the price of the item to cover their import fees anyways, so it makes sense to pay a couple bucks more and have the album a few days after release instead of saving money but waiting months for the US shop to get it in and ship it.

It is so so easy not to gender KR songs from what I’ve seen; and very obvious since most of the time when they gender it, they add in the english word instead like… Please don’t?

Honestly I would have gotten so uncomfortable hearing that tbh (Yongguk). My instant thought would’ve been like oh, he doesn’t want me here, I wonder if he sees me if he’ll be uncomfortable :/ I hope he doesn’t notice me standing here — which is literally the opposite reaction you want at a concert - afaik you want your idols to see you! (Except Rie at the OOO concert - could have done without him seeing me and my friend absolutely ugly crying over him but life goes on lol). But yeah no, especially since idols are aiming more for international appeal these days, they really should start considering that there are a lot of fans that don’t match the stereotypical KR fan, and they’re gonna fall flat in a lot of areas if they don’t broaden their appeal to a variety of people - ages, genders, etc.

Also yes - I don’t expect idols to be perfect. Tbh if a celeb has never had a misstep I might side eye them as hard as if they were horrible - bc nobody is perfect and if they’re that good at hiding everything, what are they hiding, you know? Like I want someone who’s a good person but a real person - not someone who’s a master manipulator either.

Awww - it’s so sweet that they were nice to your mom! Sometimes older fans get overlooked (or hated on in fandom itself) so it’s always super nice to see when they’re treated well. I mean, lbvs - who do the idols think are actually paying their bills? It’s not the 12-15 year old fans, for the most part - it’s those fans’ parents and the adult fans who set aside their own income for this 🤣

And yeah no - their support is very obvious and I think very genuine. Their willingness to work with queer folk too - that trans comedian the members do a show with sometimes (I can’t recall her name, but she’s hilarious and so brash. The way my heart soared when Wooyoung called her noona with zero hesitation). And then the few doing the collar with Pentatonix, who don’t hide their queer identity, etc. - I think those sorts of behaviors show a far more honest comfort and ease with people of different walks of life and communities and it’s just so nice to see. 😭

I think the thanxx rainbows are so adorable; I have one photo that I adore with San with the rainbow on his ear - it’s so cute V_V - I like that song a lot too, I think the meaning vibes well with queer folks too in a way. It’s unfortunate that the song has been soured with the CA issue, bc I feel like it get overlooked for that and the meaning is actually really good and the song is really well put together.

I desperately want an ateez tattoo; I have a perfect spot on my arm for it to link together my sleeve but I need to decide which design I want and which song bc there’s a good number I’ve got ideas for and only so much skin left lol. (Normally I get a tattoo for each concert I attend but I might get this one a bit early lol.)

Ah - I am of the minority here but I cannot take Yeo seriously with that hair 😂 the black stripes stripes made it so much worse - this kid walked straight out of an early 2000’s hot topic and definitely writes his aol messages with ‘rawr’ and has far too many x’s in his profile name. 14-16 year old me would have been absolutely enamored with him and think he’s the coolest guy ever. But I do absolutely love San’s hair. That shade of red is either a perfect match or a horrible nightmare on idols - and most of them fall to the nightmare side of things - he manages to pull it off so delightfully imo and I love it. I’m so late on this ask that Yunho has already changed his hair 😂 - I do really like the dark kinda grey-blue he’s got now too. Also Mingi! I love what he’s done with his hair! The cut really suits his face and I actually really dig the blonde and black look he’s got going on.

And omg that video - I found that super early on when I was getting into them and it made me love him so much. He takes zero shit from fans and has no problem calling them out on things - I love it so much and it made me so endeared to him… But now that I’ve watched more of their stuff… Sorry man, atiny is right, you do smile like that - it’s absolutely precious - but it’s also accurate. 🤣

[wososage]

It’s too much: USWNT x baby!Reader

Request: hope ur ok! if ur taking requests maybe baby r is from a rough city and grew up dirt poor and when the team finds out they shower her with gifts and r tries to not accept them but the girls won't let her

Word count: 1119

Warnings: maybe cussing

A/N: so i wrote a thing. i felt inspired this morning and then was actually able to make my brain think words. anyways i am alive and well. i know its probably been like a year since i have posted an imagine but i am finally in somewhat of a good place with life. hope you like it. send me messages i would love to talk to you guys. you can send requests but i make no promises about when i will write again.

A/N part 2: apparently i posted something in august but i do not remember that all

Y/N POV

“What’s the best present you have ever gotten for your birthday?” Sam asks.

“I dunno,” I respond just above a whisper, hoping she won’t hear me and will let it go.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam asks flabbergasted. “There has to be something that sticks out in your mind.”

“I’ve never celebrated my birthday,” I mumble while taking an interest in the carpet. “We just don’t have the money for it.”

Thankfully Sam realizes how uncomfortable I am and changes the subject.

“Wanna see pictures of Finn?” she asks excitedly. I look up and smile at her, giving her all of the response she needs.

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

“Why are you being so weird right now?” I ask Sonnett. “You like on a whole new level of weird right now and it is kinda freaking me out.”

“I’m not being weird you are being weird,” Sonnett says to me.

“What are you and the squirrel planning right now?” I ask with a lot of seriousness in my voice. “Both of you have been acting weird all afternoon. Now that I think about it the whole team has been acting weird. Even Alyssa looked like she was hiding something when I met her for crosswords today.”

Sonnett just shrugs.

“I think that the chances of the whole team acting weird are really low which means that it is you that is acting weird Y/N,” Sonnett says. “Did you sleep well last night? Maybe you should go take a nap, you will feel better when you wake up.”

“I slept fine last night,” I counter. “I’m gonna go homework and zoom my teachers who aren’t acting weird like the rest of you. Maybe I will even go talk to Vlatko, he seems to be the only normal person around here today.”

I end up in my room doing homework for a few hours before there is a knock on my door interrupting my focus.

“Sup,” I say to Becky who is standing in the doorway with a suspicious look on her face. “Not you too! Why is everyone being so fucking weird today?”

“Watch your language,” Becky says with a pointed look.

“Sorry,” I mumble sheepishly while looking at the ground in an attempt to avoid her eyes.

“Come with me,” She says giving no further explanation.

“Why dinner isn’t for another hour,” I explain. “I want to finish some more homework so I can hang out with people tomorrow since it is our free day.”

“You can do your homework later,” she says. “Right now you are gonna take a break and come with me.”

“Fine,” I say grabbing my key before following her. “Do I finally get to find out why everyone has been acting so weird today?”

“Everyone seems to be acting normally to me,” Becky says.

I groan and start to drag my feet.

“That’s because you are also acting weird. All of you ate something or drank something and now I am the only normal human being on this team. If you all turn into zombies I’m going to kill you.”

“Wow Y/N, that’s just rude. How could you just kill us like that? We are the most important people in your life.”

“If the zombie apocalypse happens. I am playing to survive not to be nice to my friends who were stupid enough to get themselves turned into zombies.”

“Alright Y/N, do you want to know why we have all been acting weird?”

“YES! I have been wanting to know all day.”

“Come on then,” she says while opening the door to the meeting room.

When I walk in everyone is in there and the room is decorated for a birthday party.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Becky says while hugging me.

“How long have you guys been planning this?” I ask. “This is incredible.”

“Since before Christmas when you told me you have never celebrated your birthday,” Sam explains. “We want you to be able to experience the joy of birthdays!”

“Thank you, Sammy,” I say while giving her a big hug.

“Present time!” Sonny yells while jumping up and down.

Everyone sits down in a circle and I realize that there is a large pile of presents waiting for me to open. Way too many presents for me to be able to accept.

“I can’t accept this,” I say. “This is too much.”

“Kid, please accept these gifts,” Ash says. “We are your family and we want to do this for you. We know your home life isn’t that great so we wanna help out how we can.”

“Are you guys sure?” I ask. “That’s a lot of gifts.”

“We decided that each person is only allowed to get you two gifts,” Becky explains. “One of them is something that will make your life easier such as clothes or gift cards to get food when you are home and the other one is something we want you to have because it will make you happy.”

“We also decided to have some fun with this,” Sonnett says while bouncing around like a hyperactive toddler. “You have to guess who the gift came from after you open it.”

“What do I get if I guess them all right?” I ask as my competitive nature starts to come out.

“Bragging rights,” Becky says.

“Good enough for me. Time to prove that I know you all very well.”

Grab the first present and as soon as I unwrap it, I know who gave it to me. 

“Thanks for the pride flag Pinoe,” I say. “Also, I already registered to vote this morning but thanks for giving me instructions on how to do it.”

I go through all the presents and then I get to the final one but before I can unwrap it, Becky stops me.

“Almost all of us chipped in for this present,” Becky explains. “I know you are going to say it’s too much but we want you to have this and if it helps you can think of this as something that benefits us as well as you.”

I unwrap the gift and realize it is a switch with a bunch of games. As soon as I see it I tear up.

“This costs so much money. I’ve been saving up to buy one but there is never a good time to be able to drop so much money on something. Are you guys sure about this?”

“Y/N, we want you to have this. We know how much you have wanted one. Besides now we can force you to play video games with us all the time.”

“I love you guys. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

[fallen-in-dreams]

Rumours

Also on AO3. Pairing: Gaara/Sakura. Summary: Sakura overhears a spicy rumour about her relationship with Gaara and their friendship will never be the same again. GaaSaku. Canonish. Prompt: Week 1: Dating. Rated: T. Words: 4,433. Status: Complete.

Author note: My first of the weekly prompts for the tumblr GaaSaku Events. *Cross your fingers that I can do all of the ones I'm trying to finish.* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just some mild angst and mentions of ShikaTema.

This is for the 2021 GaaSaku Event @gaasaku-fanfests​. I seem to be posting for events late or barely on time this year. Sorry. :)

.

  .:.

“Sometimes your heart sees what your eyes can’t.”

.

  It was supposed to be just another harmless outing. Sakura often took Gaara with her when she went shopping for presents. He was so hopeless at remembering birthdays and holidays like Christmas that she was doing him a favour by dragging him around with her.

And picking out gifts from both of them.

She hadn’t really thought there was anything wrong with that. Or that anyone would read more into it than it really was. Of course, the Kazekage spending time with a foreign kunoichi would get everyone’s attention, but like all exciting new things it would get old, and they’d soon move onto other things.

This was why, all these months on from their first public shopping outing, Sakura was still brushing off the curious glances as she pulled Gaara along, by the sleeve of his work robes. Twelve months she’d been in Suna. Six were spent aiding in a joint training of medical personnel as a part of a healing exchange program to further relations, and then eight weeks as the head of the hospital because Gaara was adamant nobody was doing it better. The last four months had been her lazy months, which consisted of her usual physical training regimen but also acting like a tourist and dragging Gaara along for the ride. So just what she’d been doing before, minus the teaching and hospital visits. Sakura had already achieved what she’d set out to do in this mission, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind to cut her time here short.

And she was finally used to being a constant source of scrutiny for the people of Wind. So here she was, for the second time this week, dragging Gaara out of his office on the rare occasion that he didn’t have either a shit load of paperwork or overdue training of his own to do.

The retailer looked up at them as they stepped into her shop, then smiled and bowed lightly.

“Welcome, Lord Kazekage. Haruno-san.”

“Kitana-san,” Sakura addressed her quickly before tugging on Gaara. He obediently followed and as usual, she did not notice the knowing smile of the elderly woman as she led the redhead around. Her eyes perused the rows of trinkets instead. They were supposed to be getting an engagement present for Temari and Shikamaru. It had been three weeks since the date for their party had been announced and nothing seemed to be good enough.

“Maybe we should get them each a present,” she thought out loud. “What do you think, Gaara?”

His eyes widened slightly. “One from each of us?”

“No, I mean one each from both of us.” He still looked confused. “A total of two presents,” she added, and he nodded. She didn’t remark on how he had stiffened and then relaxed at her words. Gaara was just weird like that.

“Ino got them a weird sex toy,” she said, rubbing her cheek with her finger as Gaara’s face turned pink. “Uh, and I think Hinata said she wanted to get her some wind scrolls.” Her friends’ letters had been all over the place. Everyone was excited that Temari and Shikamaru had finally gotten official and were moving their relationship forward.

“I…uh.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which was actually more of a nervous habit for him these days. “Well… we can do better.”

She giggled and locked arms with him. “Of course. I was thinking,” she said as they moved through the shop slowly. “Temari’s always gotta pretend to be this tough, warrior woman. But I’ve smelled the candles coming from her room. I was thinking of bath salts, but it isn’t a good gift for Shikamaru. But that was before this whole individual gift idea.”

Gaara thought that Shikamaru could use a decent salt bath. They could use it together. The idea of it made him blush and he pointedly avoided eye contact with Sakura as she babbled on about clothes accessories. Apparently, Shikamaru had once confessed to her that he thought belts were interesting.

“Maybe bath salts and candles.” Gaara said, interrupted her gushing about the embroidery on a handmade belt. “His & Hers style.”

Sakura squeezed his arm affectionately. “Brilliant idea.”

She pulled him along gently, not needing to tug too hard because he was fine with following her lead. This shop was mostly popular among young women and older couples. Their wares ranged from scented candles to antique dolls and handmade clothes.

“What do you think about this one?” Sakura asked, taking a strange bust off a shelf. Maybe his mind just went to stationery too quickly, but it just looked like an oversized paper weight to him.

“No good?” She asked when Gaara didn’t respond. He sighed and she tossed it aside. “Okay, next odd little smelly thing.”

He let out a light chuckle at that. Gaara pointed out a few more ideas and they half-heartedly argued over them. They picked up a few bath salts anyway, since Sakura was interested in some for herself, before leaving the story without a present for his sister and future brother-in-law.

“We’ll just have to keep looking,” Sakura said, nodding to herself as they made their way through the crowds of the downtown market. She was oblivious to the interested stares and giggling children.

Truth be told, Gaara was fine with letting Sakura make the decision for him. He hadn’t had to worry about choosing gifts for almost a year and he was happy with that. Growing up with no childhood had ensured he had little experience in the matter, but she was a good teacher when it came to social situations.

They agreed their last chance for a good gift would be the ninja resource store on the edge of the market. Such a place would normally not be in the civilian district, but the proprietors were very good at preventing civilians from buying shinobi utensils. Gaara bought an ornate spear from them two years ago that had been imported from the Land of Iron. He’d started collecting special weapons and suggested to Sakura that they have something ordered in.

It would solve the problem and save time. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Gaara looked forward to these outings more than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Geez.” She hip-butted him. “You’re full of great suggestions today.”

Sakura watched as he blushed and mumbled about looking for something for himself in the shop and as he wandered away, this gave her the perfect time to sneak away. She knew full well he was collecting unique weapons and had one in mind for him. It wasn’t a gift for any special occasion, and she didn’t bother guying things for his siblings unless it was for something in particular, but Sakura couldn’t help herself with Gaara. Her friendship with him was on another level compared with Kankuro and Temari.

When it came to birthdays, Christmas, or just her wanting him to have something special, she’d long ago stopped agonising over the “what does one even buy a kage who doesn’t seem to want anything?” question. Personal gifts that showed she knew him were always well-received. He still had the katana shaped candlestick ornament that she’d bought him for his birthday, sitting in his study. Temari said he never lit it up, which to anyone who knew him, meant he loved it. It would never get used and therefore last.

Sakura kept one eye on where Gaara was in the shop at all times, and the other on the aisle of antique weapons as she perused. That was how she ended up standing in an aisle listening to two gossiping kunoichi. She’d just been minding her own business, looking over a row of ornamental kunai, when the voices carried over to her from the other side of the shelf she was leaning toward.

When she heard her own name being uttered, Sakura peered through the gaps in the shelf. They were a couple of chunin and either had below average sensory skills and didn’t notice her or didn’t care that she was eavesdropping. Sakura didn’t recognise them, so they definitely weren’t a part of the medical units she’d trained, nor did they frequent the hospital. They were also both staring off in the direction that Sakura knew Gaara to be.

The blonde giggled. "Lord Kazekage dotes on Sakura-san, it’s so cute! They just have to be dating!"

The brunette nodded. “Of course. But why haven’t they announced it?”

“Because they’re shy, silly.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. Minamo said everyone’s talking about it.”

“He’s probably still innocent I bet.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. It was so weird to hear people claiming she had a romantic relationship with Gaara while discussing whether or not he had sexual experience. But it was just a couple of awe struck chunin (and the claim of some random friend of theirs). She decided to turn away but stilled at the next line out of the blonde’s mouth.

“Maybe Sakura-san took his v-card,” the girl snickered, much to the appreciation of the other chunin. “Can you just imagine?”

Sakura flushed from head to toe, struggling to hold her composure. She didn’t want to imagine that. Her heart might just explode. Sure, Gaara was… attractive. But would she have sex with him? He was her friend. They’d never been anything other than friends.

Not that I would want more, she told herself, holding a hand to her chest.

“I bet he’d be a tender lover,” the other girl said, sighing deeply. “Haruno-san is so lucky.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the blonde said, a devious look on her face. “I think Lord Gaara’s hit the jackpot too. Sakura-san has all that medical knowledge about the body. Imagine what she could do with it.”

“Like what?”

“Get his blood pumping. Warm him up. You know,” the blonde waggled her eyebrows and they both giggled. “She’d have him hard in no time!”

They giggled again and the brunette snorted before covering her mouth, mortified at herself.

Sakura stood there like a stunned mullet as they turned away from watching Gaara and started giggling and whispering among themselves. What the hell had she just heard?

“Sakura.”

She spun on the spot, startled. She hadn’t noticed his approaching chakra, engrossed in the conversation she was overhearing. Sakura turned beet red. He looked concerned when she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. When he made to move toward her, Sakura went into panic mode, charging at him and grabbing his arm. She ushered Gaara away, hoping he hadn’t heard any of that conversation. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even realise what they were talking about.

Gaara leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I found something special for you” and Sakura let out an involuntary sound she’d never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

Two random chunin had just inserted mental images of her having sex with Gaara into her head. She was not okay. But she nodded anyway, not wanting to explain why her heart was now thumping. Blood rushing to her head. His hand fell to the small of her back. The warmth of his touch had never been more prominent than it was right now as he added a slight pressure to steer her toward the front counter. He wasn’t pushing her. Gaara never pushed her. He was always kind to her. It was so stimulating when he did that.

Feelings she’d kept buried for almost twelve months started bubbling to the surface and Sakura wasn’t prepared for the onslaught. How could she have forgotten this? Suddenly, she remembered the first time his touch had affected her. They’d known each other for years and two weeks into her long-term mission to Suna, she’d been lonely and exhausted when quite suddenly, Sakura realised those warm and fuzzies she’d been feeling were directed at a certain Kazekage. Her twenty-first birthday had come and gone, and she didn’t have any life goals other than revolutionising the medical world. It was a great goal. Professionally.

But after an innocent comment from Hinata about her love life, her birthday had gone from celebrations of “I have my whole life ahead of me” to morose “I’m going to die alone” thoughts, which were reflected in her spending the rest of the night drunk and being shadowed by Ino who was worried she might bring down a building or two, in her destructive angst.

Gaara continued to watch her as she worked through her mental problems but said nothing. He didn’t need to tell her he was concerned. It was written all over his face. It was just another thing she loved about him.

“Let me take you home,” he said. That deep voice of his made her shiver. Sakura felt her body flush again when she heard giggling behind her. (Were those girls following them now?) There was no way they hadn’t heard that.

After a few moments, he started rubbing her back in what he obviously thought was a soothing manner and she blinked heavily at him. Right. She needed to get out of here.

She cleared her throat. “Sure,” she said, her voice a little strained. Out of habit, she wrapped her arm around his. He was a lifeline as she tried to sort out her dysfunctional thoughts. The chunin girls’ conversation had opened a can of worms and she didn’t know how to put them back in.

Sakura glanced backwards in time to catch the women whispering behind their hands and staring at her and Gaara unabashedly. When had her outings with Gaara started such salacious rumours?

And more importantly: why did these people think they were dating?

  .:.

  “Gimme a screaming orgasm!”

Kankuro took the seat next to Sakura as she made her order to the bartender and chuckled.

“You might want to tone that drink down a little,” Kankuro said with a wink. “Gaara might get jealous.”

“Ugh!” Sakura groaned. “Not you too!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

She pointed a finger at him. “You all are talking about me behind my back. Starting rumours and talking about my sex.”

Kankuro snorted. “Your what?”

“I’m a joke, Kankuro-chan.”

“Please don’t call me that.” He grimaced.

She sighed. “What are you doing here?”

Kankuro waved a hand at the bartender. “Another screaming orgasm, please.”

Sakura snorted. “You’re getting more than I am, then.”

He chuckled. “Never delved into the local cuisine since you got here?”

Well, there was this one guy she danced and flirted with the first weekend after she started this mission, but her burgeoning feelings for the Kazekage wouldn’t let her do anything more. She wasn’t a slut and she appreciated that Gaara wasn’t one of those guys that slept around and used their testosterone to excuse it, either. So, she’d been able to settle into routine with him. Friends who gravitated toward each other. Friends who had dinner with each other (alone) quite often. Friends who decided important decisions together instead of alone. Friends who rarely had eyes for anyone else. Friends who didn’t have lives outside of each other...

She groaned and dropped her head on the bar. The awareness of her situation was painful. She wished she could go back to being oblivious. Because it was clear now that Sakura had been accidentally dating Gaara for almost twelve months. Did he know? Or was he as oblivious as her? Everyone had noticed apparently, according to two chunin and their friend. Did Kankuro and Temari know.

“I’m secretly but not secretly dating Gaara,” she mumbled. “And I didn’t know.”

Apparently, even though her face was pressed into the bar, Kankuro had heard her.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”

Sakura groaned again. “We’re not dating!”

“Uh-huh.” He clearly didn’t believe her. “Going back and forth then. You’re in denial.”

“Why are you here?” He didn’t respond and Sakura lifted her head up slowly. “Kankuro?”

“He’s lonely,” he said, staring into his drink thoughtfully. “I know everyone thinks Gaara’s put together and doesn’t need anything more in life than family and friends. But I know that under that oblivious and calm exterior that he’s a romantic at heart. He wants what you two have. But he just doesn’t know how to go about getting it.”

She frowned at him. His seriousness was giving her a bad feeling. Everything had come together so quickly, and she wasn’t even sure what to do with her feelings yet, let alone whatever Gaara might be feeling.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

That was an understatement. Sakura used to think he wasn’t clueless, since he often said things with such confidence that she believed he was more aware than he let on. But then moments like that day in the shop with the chunin girls and Gaara seemed completely oblivious to what was going on. She had no idea what to think of him anymore.

It was why she’d been ignoring him. She couldn’t handle the idea that he might actually return her feelings. She was a coward.

Kankuro put his drink down and patted her on the back. “Just… don’t hurt him, okay?”

Right. Easier said than done.

  .:.

  There were many things Gaara was good at. And so many things he sucked at.

He was proficient with multiple types of weapons and political nuances. But in matters of the heart, he found that he still hadn’t learned anything. He had no idea why Sakura was avoiding him and why his siblings were being more careful about how they talk to him. It felt like it had been back when he housed Shukaku and went on rampages.

The knock on his door startled him and Gaara debated ignoring that chakra signature out of spite but gave in and called her in.

“Gaara?”

He looked up and the slight drop in her smile told him that she’d seen the hurt in his eyes. She’d been avoiding him, and they both knew it.

“I need to tell you something.”

Gaara swallowed heavily and braced himself. Her contract in Suna had only a few weeks left but since the particulars of the mission had already been fulfilled, she was free to leave at any time, if she wanted to. This made his hear race. More than anything he didn’t want her to go. He enjoyed her company and valued her friendship. What he truly wanted from her was more than that and it had taken him months of going along with her intrusion into his life for him to realise what that “more than that” meant for him.

Gaara wanted to date her. He wanted to be doing all the things with her that Temari did with Shikamaru and that Kankuro was currently trying to do with Matsuri. And for that to happen, she had to stay in Suna.

Temari and Shikamaru are dating and he’s still living in Konoha, he begrudgingly reminded himself.

But he didn’t care.

Gaara sat back in his office chair as Sakura closed the door behind herself and shuffled her feet, twiddling her thumbs. She was nervous. And worried about his reaction. He attempted to smile and shift his body language to put her at ease. It seemed to work and before he knew it, she was approaching him with a sad smile and sitting down across the table from him.

“Gaara…”

“Does this have something to do with why you’ve been avoiding me?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I, uh… found out something. And kind of overreacted to it, got drunk, and took it out on Kankuro.”

Gaara couldn’t help the snort that accompanied a chuckle. “Story of my life.”

She smiled a little wider now. “It does seem easy to do that.”

“Did you hit him?”

“A little. In the training grounds,” she added quickly. “He’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

She went back to twiddling her thumbs.

“You wanted to tell me something.”

Sakura nodded. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come right out and say it. The whole village thinks we’re dating.” She paused to see his reaction, but he just stared, stone faced at her. “And uh… we kind of have been.”

“All the outings and joint gift giving.” Not to mention how he treated her so preciously in public.

Sakura frowned. There was no question in his voice, just his usual factual tone. He wasn’t surprised. “You knew?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Why… why didn’t you say anything?”

He blinked heavily and lowered his gaze to the table. Parchments were lined neatly across it as he rarely let them fall out of place. The only matter in his life that Gaara let get messy were his relationships. They were inherently messy, so he had no problem dealing with them as such. Which was why he was so anal about everything else.

“Gaara?”

Gaara didn't seem to want to explain himself.

He didn’t want to deny or confirm that he may or may not be dating the Fifth Hokage's protégé, to the public. He let the rumours spread and did nothing to quell them. Gaara had even played up to them which he’d known was wrong but couldn’t help himself. There was no way that admitting this to Sakura would go well for him. Perhaps he could inform her over time, but right now the realisation of what had been going on was too raw for her.

And she could see his hesitation for what it was. Avoidance of setting the record straight. Sakura frowned. Was it because of appearances? Or something more personal? It could be embarrassment. She knew he’d grown up with little human contact, none of which would’ve prepared him for adult relationships. It left him in the lurch for so many important social interactions.

But why wouldn’t he want to fix this? It would look bad for the village if the Kazekage was pretending to date someone. Especially since she was going home in a few weeks. Her heart clenched at that, and she had to close her eyes to stop herself from losing control. Sakura had only just allowed herself to remember and acknowledge that she’d developed feelings for Gaara months ago, she didn’t want to break down in front of him now.

Why didn’t he tell me?

What was he playing at?

Maybe it was because he liked her? Sakura felt her skin flush at that. No. It was probably pride or indolence. Likely, he didn’t fully understand the ramifications.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

Had Kankuro meant that romantically? Or sexually? Or perhaps socially? She bit her bottom lip as Gaara turned his head away. The skin along his neck was tinged pink and his face looked slightly flushed.

All of the above, then.

Maybe he really was too embarrassed to push back at the rumours. Gossip was a poison though. In order to successfully rebuke it, you had to do so fast. And with the truth, not silence or denial on their own. Sakura knew this from experience back when she was still listening to Ino’s ramblings about Sasuke. This rumour had run its full course and nothing short of a very public breakup would get them out of it.

“Is it…” he started slowly, breaking her out of her thoughts. Gaara looked up to catch her gaze. “Is it really so bad?”

Is the idea of us really so horrible?

She heard that unsaid question loud and clear.

Sakura stood up and circled the table to stand in front of him as he swivelled on his chair to face her. “No.”

Gaara smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You want this?” She asked.

This was the moment of truth. He could lie and revert their relationship to the way it was before, except with them being more conscious about not appearing to be a couple. Or he could take a hold of her and ask for the one thing that had been plaguing him for months. He swallowed heavily and she watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Was it weird to be turned on by that?

“Yes,” he said huskily.

Desperately, yes.

She didn’t react for a moment, just scanning his face. He held his breath, waiting. Then Sakura leant forward, closing her eyes as his widened. But he didn’t pull away as she pressed her lips to his gently. His hands went to her hips as she rested hers on the arms of his chair, caging him in.

Gaara deepened the kiss, making her gasp and then plundered her mouth. He’d never done this before, that much was obvious to her. So, she took control, slowing their pace and sucking on his lips gently when he tried to hasten her. Sakura fell into his lap, her hands tugging at his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. As she straddled him, she lost herself to the feel of his body beneath hers and Sakura moaned.

The sound broke their reverie and the Kazekage bit her lip. Without pulling out of their kiss, he sent his sand out to lock the door and knocked everything from his desk with no concern for their wellbeing. Fuck caring about that right now.

Sakura grinned into their kiss as he pushed her back onto the table. This had been the right choice after all.

  .:.

  Sometime later, Sakura emerged from the Kazekage's office to find his siblings nearby, like they’d been waiting to find out the result of her talk with Gaara. She knew she needed to reprimand them, but she was too happy right now to care.

Kankuro raised an eyebrow at her. She looked dishevelled. Like someone had snogged the crap out of her. He fought to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.

“Sakura?”

She cleared her throat and stared down at him. “You’ll be interested to know that Gaara is no longer clueless.”

Temari groaned as the Leaf kunoichi sauntered out of hallway. Kankuro waited until Sakura was out of earshot and gave his sister a shit eating grin then stuck his hand out expectantly.

“I won,” he said.

She scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

“Hey! I said they’d end up dating!”

Temari shook her head and took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk, then said, “you said they’d sleep together within an hour of resolving this. They clearly just made out.”

“Temari!” Kankuro pouted.

“Not paying up,” she sung, before following Sakura’s lead and sauntering off.

He huffed. Siblings were evil.

  .:.

[tv-fanfic-archive]

Meet Cute

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | Masterlist | Ao3

Reader meets a man in a bar, takes him back to her hotel room, sex ensures, and then love?? Maybe. Fem Reader, no y/n, no body descriptions

Word Count: 3105

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: ABO, omegaverse, smut, feral Bucky (for a bit), creampie, aftercare, alpha bucky, omega reader, scent blockers, soulmates, AFAB reader

The smokey interior of the bar was cloying your mind with the mulled scent of old wood and booze. It was dark, the only light in the room came from dim yellow light bulbs in dingy fixtures along the paneled walls. You sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey and eyeing the options of the bar. At 11 PM everyone who was gonna be here was here already. You resigned yourself to the greasy guy shooting looks over to you every couple minutes when a cold draft blew in from the door. A newcomer was tromping over to the bar. His shoulders were hunched and he had the hood of a grey denim jacket pulled up to hide his face. Your well-trained eye saw right through that jacket; he was jacked, you knew it from the way he walked. Your attention instantly dropped away from the greasy guy and laser-focused on this newcomer (his scent was all straight alcohol anyways, disgusting). As he sidled up to the bar you turned your seat away to show off the side of your legs, crossing one leg over the other, letting your dress slip up a bit to expose the top of your stockings. He glazed over at your movement but turned back to the bartender. He pulled off his hood and ordered.

“Johnny Walker Black, neat.” His voice was reedy, low, and utterly perfect. He took a seat two stools over from you and rested his elbows on the bartop. Before he had a chance to get his drink and leave, you hopped over the two stools separating you and set your own glass down with a clink on the bar next to him.

“Hey there, handsome.” the drinks you’d been nursing since 9 were flowing steadily through you, instilling you with false confidence. His eyes slid up your body until they reached your eyes, a bored look firmly in place there. He looked away. Hard to get? You could almost purr at the challenge he presented.

Now that you were closer to him you could see his face better. Good lord, he was beautiful, but in a tired sort of way where you knew he’d fought with life and barely came through kicking. His eyes were the blue of an ocean after a storm and just as deep. Short brown hair in messy tufts from the hood. He brushed a hand over it to smooth it down and you noticed that his left hand was made of shiny metal. Your eyes followed it back down, then dragged your eyes up his body. He had to be strong under all those layers. Dark jeans and his thick denim jacket were attempting to hide his muscles but the way the fabric of his jeans stretched against his thighs let you know all you needed to. With the proximity, you also caught a whiff of his scent, leather, coffee, and something unfamiliar, gunpowder maybe, but you couldn’t quite tell, but his scent was entirely too muted. It was hard to get a good read on him through smell; you couldn't even tell his designation. Maybe he was playing the same game as you, you thought. A new product marketed to hide designations just hit the stores recently and you’d be practically bathing in the stuff every night you went out to avoid overzealous alphas trying to get you home without a fight just cause you were an omega.

“Let me buy your drink.” Putting your arms up to rest on the bartop, leaning over a bit, giving the bartender, and hopefully your prey, a better look at your breasts. The bartender set his glass next to yours. You looked up to him through your eyelashes and told him to put it on your tab then return your full attention to your prey. He picked up the glass and slid his gaze to you once more. 

“Thank you,” he grunted

“So what brings you here?” You slipped your finger around the lip of your glass, keeping eye contact.

“Drinks.” One word kinda guy you guessed

“Nothing else?” Your pointed look was met with a quirked eyebrow and a chuckle

“Not originally, but things can change.” He sipped his whiskey, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“Why don't we up the chances, huh?” With that, you knocked back the dregs of your own whiskey and motioned to the barman.

“Two zombies, please.” Then you said to the man “So what’s your name?”

“Call me Bucky.” He knocked back his own drink. You told him your name. The bartender sets two novelty skull-shaped cups in front of you. The tangy smell of pineapple and rum hits your nose as you bury your face in the cup. You were gunning for a fast buzz and you got it with this drink. 

Soon Bucky was leaning closer to you as you chatted to him. Another round and his hand was on your thigh, squeezing on and off as you continued talking. Your two swivel stools had you facing each other now. Your legs were tucked between his, his hand moved to your knee and your faces were close as if he couldn't hear you. You made a motion for another round but the bartender cut you off and asked for payment for your tab.

“I guess that's the sign to get out of here, huh?” You slid your card over the bar and leaned heavily into Bucky. He got off the stool and you followed with only a small stumble. He caught your waist and kept his arm around you as you pocketed your card. The two of you left the bar only to be confronted by an icy wind. You shivered in your thinner dress. When you’d left the hotel room today it was warm; you hadn't expected this. It seems Bucky had, however, as he shed his denim jacket and draped it over your shoulders. His muted scent hit you at almost the normal strength. Your cloudy mind wondered at that for a moment before moving on. 

“Such a gentleman,” You laughed 

“Guilty as charged.” he smiled and put out his arm for you to take “Where we going, sweetheart?”

“My hotel room.” Leaning heavily into his arm, you led him down the street to your hotel. 

----

At the door to your room, you fumbled with the keys in your cold hands. Bucky was pressed up against your back, mouthing over your neck, not helping your fight with the keys in the slightest. His lips dragged across the side of your neck, just barely grazing your gland, making you whine and close your eyes.

“I can't get the door open if you keep doing that, Bucky.” But there was no fight in your voice, with lips like those you’d let him do anything he wanted right now. But he left your neck and you were able to slide the key into the lock and open the door. Soon as the door shut behind you, Bucky pressed you up against it. Your mouths locked together in a down and dirty open mouth kiss. His metal hand was splayed out on your stomach while his other forearm pressed against the wood next to your head. You leaned back opening your mouth more to let his tongue stroke along your own. Separating for a moment, you panted, chest heaving. You dropped the jacket off your shoulders and pushed Bucky back. The room was so small that he stumbled back a few paced and hit the back of his knees on the bed, falling to sit on it. You walked up to him and turned around with your back facing him.

“Unzip me?” You felt his hands, one cold, one warm, on the skin of your back as he eased the zipper down to the small of your back. You shrugged off the dress and kicked it away, leaving you in your stockings and bra-panty set. Turning back around you straddled his thighs and ran your hands up into his hair, mussing it and pressing your mouth back to his. Your hands traveled down to his shoulders then scratched down his chest. He hissed at the tickle of your nails through his shirt. You grasped the bottom of his shirt and undershirt together and dragged them up, tossing both behind you. Oh yeah, your guess was dead on, he was jacked. Again you raked your nails over his chest, leaving red lines from his pecs to his defined v-line. You smashed your mouth back on his and pushed him down flat on your bed. He let out a huff as he bounced a bit before your arms caged his head in and he was locked back on your mouth. He brought his hands to your ass and pressed you down onto him. You moaned into his mouth and ground down to meet him, leaving a wet patch on the bulge of his black jeans. Slick was coating your thighs in response to all the action. In a moment of separation, Bucky scented the air and growled deep in his chest. You could feel it rumble against your chest, pressed so close against him as you were. Suddenly he rolled the two of you over so he was on top. He pushed you up the bed to hit your back against the pillows. His face met your stomach and he nuzzled up into your breasts. Quickly you fumbled at your bra strap, trying to get it off as quickly as possible. You shucked the bra and grabbed Bucky’s hair. He moved a hand up to cup one of your tits., rolling the flesh around in his hand and squeezing.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He groaned, his Brooklyn twang strong in those few words before his mouth was busied nipping at the flesh of your breasts, leaving little dark marks littered across your skin. Your head fell back and you whined. Your hands scratched at Bucky’s scalp, giving you his own hum of enjoyment at the feeling. Soon his mouth trailed down the valley of your breasts to the top of your panties. His metal hand picked at the elastic band and let it snap against your skin causing you to jolt at the sting.

“Can I get these off you, doll?

“Yes, please, just do it.” You breathed, your voice quiet and rough. He slid your panties down and off and buried his nose between your lips. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of his tongue slipping down to tease your hole. After circling for a moment, he zeroed in on your clit and sucked, leaving a little nip on it. Your hands shot down to grip white-knuckled at the roots of his hair. Bucky lifted his head from your center enough to speak, “You smell so good,” then dived back down, doubling his efforts and making your insides twist into knots. You could hardly feel your stomach at this point, it was a mess of taught, burning muscles that only one thing could defuse. Bucky’s metal arm came up around your thigh to part your lips, opening them up to an unfiltered onslaught by Bucky’s tongue. The metal was cold on your leg and you shivered. You brought a hand up to bite, desperately trying to ground yourself to something tangible while Bucky was blowing you out of this world. A few more seconds and the white-hot feeling in your stomach burst and your entire body went limp, a long whine escaped your throat and you shuddered uncontrollably. Your other hand pressed Bucky’s face to your pussy and you felt him run his tongue around your hole. Your grip released his head and he pushed himself up over your exhausted body. He caught your lips in his again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. When he pulled back you found yourself leaning forward, almost trying to follow his lips as he sat back on on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Of course I am.” you panted, still not having caught your breath from the back-to-back orgasm and heart-stopping kiss. “Are you okay?” your eyes wandered down to where he strained his jeans. 

“Course I am” He lied down next to you. When you caught your breath and you moved to get on top of him again. The skin of your thighs was sensitive against denim. You reached up and raked a hand through his hair, connecting your lips together once again, reaching down with the other hand, you popped the button on his jeans. He sighed against your lips. #Working his jeans down off his thick thighs, he lifted his hips to help. Now just in his boxer briefs, you could clearly see the main prize of the night. Making quick work of his underwear, you freed his member. He kicked off both garments and raised his hands to grip your hips, canting them towards the head of his dick. You dropped your hips in turn and rolled them, slipping the shaft between your lips. He groaned, falling back out of your reach. His abs clenched. Finally, torturously slowly you dropped down, impaling yourself on Bucky’s thick dick. At the same time both, you hissed at the stretch and another low growl resonated from Bucky’s chest. He shot up from his back as he bottomed out, cradling your back and holding you down. He snarled, nosing at your neck and thrusting sharply up at a nearly frantic pace. With the breath knocked out of you, your hands scrambled for purchase on his back. Nails dug in in long lines leaving welts up the length of his toned back. 

“Buckyyy” You whined “I can’t-” Before you could finish he pushed you down onto your back and hoisted a leg high over his hip, 

“You can.” He growled, steadying himself on his knees before driving into you with short, quick thrusts designed to reach the finish line as fast as possible. With every thrust, you felt the spark being reignited, but from Bucky’s every movement you could tell he’d reach it before you did until he reached his metal arm down to the wet mess of your front, rubbing decisively up and down. You threw your arms up around his neck, yanking him down to your face and smothering him in a furious kiss. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting all the rum you’d shared before. 

Bucky’s thrusts got slower, but deeper, harder, shaking your body in his arms and striking up against your deepest parts. A dull ache rose to mingle with the tightness of your pelvis. He released your mouth and buried his face in your neck, licking and nipping at your skin. His hand on your clit quickened, the tightness reaching breaking point as he took one last deep thrust into you before stilling, releasing his cum as deep as he could within you. A sharp bite on your shoulder sent you spiraling into your own release. Soft kisses over the bite mark brought you down slowly from your high. The feeling of him pulling out brought you sharply back to reality. It felt like what you imagined a bottle of honey felt like when drizzled over a nice stack of pancakes. Bucky sat back on his heels to watch his cum ooze out of you. You just lied back, catching your breath and watching him watch you. 

After a bit, the afterglow was fading and leaving you feeling sticky and decidedly ready for at least a washcloth if not a full bath. You rose from the bed and, with Bucky trailing behind you, started up the hot water in the shower. 

From either the drinks or the sex, the two of you were too tired to do anything more than rinse off the sweat and any other fluids accumulated before collapsing into bed and falling asleep. 

#break

Sometime before the sun rose, you woke up. As you came to, you tried to extract yourself from Bucky’s arms that had wrapped you up in their tight embrace sometime while you slept. Still, in a haze of exhaustion, you decided waking him up wouldn't be worth the trouble; he’d roll over eventually and you get up and leave to catch your flight. But just as you’d vowed to stay awake, Bucky’s warm chest pressed up against your back rising and falling with his slow breaths lulled you back to sleep. 

When you awoke again it was with your face pressed against Bucky’s chest. His arms were around your back now and his hands were rubbing smoothly against your skin. He was awake. Fuck. You’d meant to sneak out before he woke up so you wouldn't have to deal with the morning after talk. But as soon as you really shook the fog of sleep from your mind and took a good breath you realized, his scent blockers had faded to nothing. A flood of his scent washed over you. Still strongly coffee and leather based, but without the blockers you could pick out the more subtle notes of it, vanilla and a splash of some flower you couldn't place, but the most damming and important facet of it all was the unmistakable scent of Alpha, but not just any alpha, no there was something different there you’d never smelled before, something you’d heard of. It was intoxicating and indescribable. You took a deep breath, pressing your nose hard against his neck on instinct. Mate. That had to be it, nothing else could be as captivating, as perfect. You withdrew from his neck and cast your eyes up to his, a shaft of light from the window falling perfectly over his face, lighting up his eyes from within. 

“D’you smell it?” he all but whispered, pushing you up his body to bring you to eye level. 

“We’re…” You trailed off

“Yeah.”

“I was supposed to go to Japan this morning.” His face fell, eyebrows furrowing. His arms lifted off your back and he moved away from you until you pressed your lips hard against the spot right at the junction of his neck and shoulder, where a mating mark would go. A groan ripped from his throat and his hands returned to clutch at your hips. 

“I’m gonna have to cancel it. D’you have a place in the city we can go?” You nipped at the spot

“Course. Got a place downtown. You can stay as long as you want, princess…”

“Mmm that sounds perfect” One last kiss to his gland and you pulled off. “We better get going then.” 

[juseki-taisen]

How about how the 12 warriors celebrate V-Day? (Bonus challenge being Doudecuple and Navi)

Thank you for the request @gale-dragon-writer

This was a long one! I hope you guys like!

Inounoshishi

Without S/O

This wouldn’t happen, let’s be real. If it did she planned this by choice, so she’s probably busy kicking ass and taking names...and numbers

Probably prowls bars for lonely men/women/they’s ect to buy her drinks.

Never pays for any food or drink of Valentines. She’s hot af and knows it

It’s 50/50 if she’s going to go home with someone

With S/O

Expects to be spoiled. Please spoil her

Despite her immense wealth, she doesn’t expect you to buy her expensive things. She can do that herself. What she’d really like is for a gift that’s full of thought.

If you make her a gift, she’ll play it off but she secretly loves it. It doesn’t matter how shitty it is. If you make her a cute boar figure out of clay and it’s lopsided, but you tried hard and painted it her favorite color, it’s going on her mantel in the living room.

Spoils you too. You will drown in gifts and kisses. Don’t worry, she uses amazing lipstick and it doesn’t stick to your face.

Dotsuku

Without S/O

Spends the day giving candy to the children.

Secretly gives his daughter a secret admirer letter, her confidence SKY ROCKETS

Decorates his classroom

This man is great at help kids learn about consent. No pulling pigtails, and if a boy likes a girl and she tells him no, he makes sure he knows not to keep bugging her. Same thing with the girls. If a boy doesn’t like them they’re not allowed to keep bugging them either.

Watches cute love movies with his daughter. He’s her prince charming.

With S/O

You better believe he has you help decorate his classroom

You make cute paper hearts and pick out candy

The kids leave you valentines

He takes you to dinner. His daughter comes too. You guys have a lot of fun. He buys you and his daughter a dessert. Somehow she eats here and half of yours

Snuggles on the couch and a cute movie.

Niwatori

Without an S/O

Doesn’t celebrate

She doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal

Indulges the day after on discount candy

With an S/O

Help her

She wants to celebrate but she’s in Ushii level awkward when it comes to doing anything

Picks the most popular movie out, watches it, and THAT is the basis for her whole idea

Gets you candy. Wears a cute dress. Picks a place to eat. Buys you roses, or do you get her roses? She’ll get them for you...just in case

Candy? Candy. Lots of candy.

Any small thing you get her she’s going to love. She never has really gotten gifts, and one out of love is a gift she’ll treasure forever

If you do get her flowers, she’s going to press them or dry them and keep them forever

Sharyu

Without an S/O

She had a fiancé for what seemed like forever, so a day without one is kind of difficult for her

She’s happy she’s alone, because she’s happy with who she is and now doesn’t have anyone to try and fit her into a mold that she didn’t belong

Kind of mopes though. She wants romance and someone who loves her for who she is and everything she does

Drinks hot coco and eats an ungodly amount of chocolate

With an S/O

So. Excited.

She cooks all day and makes cake, dinner, and everything else from scratch

You get her gifts and feel like it’s still not enough

Honestly? It doesn’t matter what you get her. She just love shaving you around and knowing how much you care for her for who she is

PLEASE slow dance with her in the kitchen while you’re doing the dishes. She’ll remember it forever

Hitsujii

Without an S/O

Hangs out at home

Waiting for the candy to go on sale

Babysits for his child so they can have a romantic evening

Watches random shows on TV, but avoids romance stuff

With an S/O

Still wants to hang out at home, but will go out if you want

Uses this as an excuse to DESTROY the candy aisle

Gets you flowers, they’re not red roses because that’s pretty expensive, but he gets cute ones...and a bear

Snuggles and falling asleep to bad rom coms on TV

Uuma

Without an S/O

Spends it alone

He wishes he had someone, but he’s alright for the most part

Okay he’s not

He’s a big softie inside and somewhat romanticizes the holiday more than he should

Eats cake...and chocolate 

With an S/O

The man goes WILD

Roses everywhere

Candlelight 

A romantic dinner he made meticulously after practicing for weeks

Remakes the titanic ship in a bottle, with you two as the figures on the front of the ship

He loves any gift you get him. He cries. He tries not to, but he does. 

He writes you a poem he gets to embarrassed to read. You get it in a card. 

Takeyasu

Without an S/O

Steals everything with his brother

Necklaces, candy, and even flowers just so he can light them on fire

Doesn’t think much of the holiday, never has. It’s stupid. 

With an S/O

He’s awkward. He doesn’t know how to celebrate the holiday

He gets you the basics, candy, a bear, and flowers. That’s it right? 

Oh wait, you wanna do something? Uh, can a theme park be romantic?

You have a lot of fun actually, and when inevitably he lights part of it on fire, he has stuff for smores. 

You save the picture from the tunnel of love. You managed to snap it before he lit it on fire. The tunnel was the point of origin. 

Later on down the road he plans more stuff. He may also use fireworks to do your name in the air or something

Steals you a car. 

Nagayuki

Without an S/O

Steals stuff with his brother

Gets entirely to many snacks

Does anything but Holiday stuff

With an S/O

Doesn’t want to do anything, but will because you ask him

Takes you for dinner, and he enjoys spending time with you, but because social convention is making him he’s grumpy about it 

If you’re the kind of person who is easily embarrassed, he may send you cheesy emails with stupid valentines cards

Chocolate and all KINDS of snacks

Later on down the line he’ll plan more romantic stuff, and buy you nice things with real money so you know he cares

Usagi

Without an S/O

He likes the Holiday and wants someone to do it with SOOOO BAD

Watches all those cute movies and cheesy rom coms

Has a “Friend” he takes out on a date

It doesn’t go well

With an S/O

Oh boy. He’s SO HAPPY

He gets you everything. Flower, roses (ignore the blood it’s fine), and he lets you know he’s arrived to pick you up by having his friends hold him high while he has a boom box playing your favorite song. Even if it’s metal. Even if he thinks the holiday begins at midnight. Your neighbors wont care, right?

You will go to ALL the cheesy stuff. Cute rides at a theme park, which somehow gets burned down later on thanks to someone (Takeyasu)

 A dinner and flowers, chocolate. SO MUCH CANDY. He even likes the terrible heart ones. He made you a box filled with ones that have saying that remind him of you

Cuddles, kisses, and smooches that just...don’t stop. Even in public. You gotta tell him to tone it down. 

Tora

Without an S/O

Drinks, and mopes

She doesn’t really want to date, but seeing other people happy kinda rubs it in when you’re single

Partakes in day after candy sales

She actually avoids the bars, to many couples being happy and cute

Angrily eats snacks

With an S/O

She doesn’t expect much, other than maybe being one of those annoying couples who steals Every. Booth. In. The. Restaurant. 

Please get her presents. Please. She’ll get really happy and flustered

This girl will actually try and make you chocolate from scratch. Sharyu helps. She even wraps them in a cute wrapping paper she draws herself

It’s pretty casual and after bar hopping you spend it at home. You’re with her so she cuts back so she’s not sloshed. She wants to remember being with you. 

So many cute kisses. 

Hand holding. It still gets her flustered. 

Please get your picture taken at some point. She’ll put it by her bed and fall asleep smiling

Ushii

Without an S/O

There’s a Holiday? 

He guess he noticed it was harder than normal to get a table for his favorite restaurant

Doesn’t really like sweets so the holiday just annoys him

So many people confess to him and he’s just like “Okay. Cool. Thanks” 

With an S/O

He’s not great with the holiday. He’s smart though, so he tries  to research what to do

Googles top ten most romantic gesture, luckily has the sense not to propose

Gets you candy, roses, and all the stereotypical stuff

You have to tell him to relax, because all the stuff he’s saying is regurgitated rom com lines

When he does relax, he’s actually really sweet. Stupidly sweet actually. 

“I don’t need a holiday to tell me you’re important, you’re already always on my mind, but the candy is nice I guess”

Will watch whatever you want. Is always confused by romance movies, but oh BOY does he love going out to eat with you. Hell. Yes. The desserts are amazing and now he gets to share them with you

Care you a card. It’s ugly, but he tries

Gets you a really cute necklace. It has a small ox on it, so he can always be with you. 

Nezumi

Without an S/O

Eats candy and sleeps. It’s no different than any other day, other than people piss him off more.

He doesn’t like how weird people get 

They also made out on his locker...and he needed his textbook. Please....Let him get his books

With an S/O

Uses his paths so much that he passes out and HARD CORE NAPS before you go out

Has the perfect gift.

Plays co op video games with you

He doesn’t like people, so you get take out and stay home

You watch movies, but they’re movies like Princess Bride, Warm Bodies, and love stories that aren’t so normal and are more fun

If you’re LGBT he goes out of his way to find a good movie ahead of time, because he loves and supports you and this day is about you two damn it! (The other’s would try to do this for their S/O, but would have a harder time. since most of them are not great with technology like Nezumi is)

So much candy and snacks

Selfies and filters

You fall asleep together and nap

get him a gift. He’ll know it’s coming but it still makes him happy

BONUS CHALLENGE 

Doudecuple

Without an S/O

Doesn’t do a whole lot. Has wine and watches the mortals below

Maybe messes with people just a bit to amuse himself

Does his own thing. He really doesn’t care for the holiday

With an S/O

Wine and a dessert charcuterie board

Gets you an expensive gift, but practical. A coat, a scarf. Something to keep you warm and cozy you can use everyday and think of him.

Makes the impossible possible. A romantic setting with only a few people

Getting the tickets for some play or show the last minute

Please do something cheesy, it’ll amuse him, and he’ll secretly keep it

ON THE FLIP SIDE

He may get a gift from you, then anyone who goes in his office will see it. 

“Look what my Love got me. Have you beheld it?”

It doesn’t matter if it’s stupid. He’s keeping it forever 

Navi

Without and S/O

Stays home and has snacks and chocolates

Maybe organizes his hat collection

Watches fun game shows or anything without romance

With S/O

Has a special hat he wears for the occasion

Gets you one too

Gets you candy and a single rose, as well as a teddy bear

Uses his tablet to find the best places to go with the best rating. Uses his ability to multiply to hold your place in line so you can actually do other stuff

Ferris wheel. He has to hold his hat on but you guys get an AMAZING picture together. It’s his screensaver. He texts it to Nezumi. Nezumi and him start having a couple picture off. Next year, double date. 

[thegoodomensdumpster]

You might be tempted to think that Newt and his family would have to be the boring ones, while with the Devices being witches and professionnal descendants of Agnes Nutter life would be constantly thrilling. Nope. It’s the exact opposite.  The Devices have been following Agnes’ predictions for centuries. There is no place for anything random in their lives, they have only two sets of minds: absolute blind certainty and “no”.

Look, Anathema panicks completely when she loses Agnes’ book, a book her and her family have been studying so thoroughly that they have an exhaustive set of recapitulative cards. She has known she was to be involved in preventing the end of the world since she was a kid. She has probably studied and memorized all the predictions she thought to be linked to Armageddon. She has her cards. She knows her stuff. She is competent. And yet, when Anathema loses her book - and if we disregard the emotionnal attachement that, imo, shouldn’t be kicking in this much when you have a fucking end of the world hours away -, when she loses her book, her emotions get the best of her. Because it was not part of the course she was supposed to take, and that had never happened to her before.  Now, let’s take a look at Newt. That guy has been blowing up computers unwillingly since forever, even though he has a passion for all things electronic. He didn’t stop living because he had obstacles to overcome. Heck, he probably learned coding and manually wrote scripts that would work if entered in a computer by anyone other than him. He gets job after job, and doesn’t stop searching for something to do even when he feels discouraged. He signs for the fucking Witchfinder Army when he doesn’t think witches are a thing and when Shadwell, of all people, is the one doing the recruiting. Why not ? One more weird thing in his life, at least he might make some money out of it. And there, in the chaos of Shadwell’s appartement, he manages to understand all on his own that something is up in Tadfield. He also, when presented with enough proof, wholeheartidly admits that witches are real, and so are demons and angels and other things, and he doesn’t panic nearly as much as one should when confronted with a real UFO -ok, he might have been a bit stunned, but still.  “Yep, my girlfriend is a witch. Yep, the antichrist is our neighbour. Yep, I helped prevent Armageddon last week. Oh by the way, should I go buy more toilet paper?”

Newt has been so used to adapting to chaos, he can actually make sense of it. And my personal take on this is that it’s also the case for his family. They’re all chaotic. They all have incredibly bad luck ( as a possible result of a curse, courtesy of Agnes Nutter ). 

So here are Newt and Anathema, at a Pulsifer family meeting. Anathema thinking “oh its gonna be lovely meeting Newt’s family, something quiet and normal after all this Armageddon thing”.  Anathema. Oh. Anathema. Sweet summer child. She doesn’t know that all Pulsifer family meetings end up either in the emergency, or locked out of the house, or running after some kind of wild animal that managed to steal Uncle Patrick’s casefiles that he absolutely needs because he’s been at war with his neighbour for basically thirty years because he could never gather all the files when he needed them and he finally had them all and that fucking boar barged into the garden as he was walking by and somehow got all tangled with the casefiles and now all the Pulsifer have to stop aunt Meredith from showing off her wrestling techniques because dammit woman, you’re nearly 80 years old, stop strying to wrestle a boar, and then when they’re all back home covered in mud and, of course, without the files, they have to try out cousin Dean’s horrible new culinary experiment and someone always ends up having diarrhea after trying out Dean’s cooking so everyone starts betting who it might be this time, and now they’re talking about how every Pulsifer around the age of twelve has avoided an anvil falling out of the sky because yes, that is a thing that happens to every member of this family and every kid knows that they’ll have to avoid an anvil some day, but wait didn’t a Pulsifer die because of that whole anvil thingie back in 1923, and now some people are arguing because it might have been 1935, and oh, that reminds Newt’s mom of that time her great-uncle Patrick (there are several Patrick Pulsifer of course, the last one is 2 years old, it can get very confusing) woke up and had a toad in his slipper, so of course when he tried to put them on he couldn’t and he fell over, and she doesn’t remember exactly how that whole thing happened but one thing led to another and at the end of the day great-uncle Patrick was in a hang-glider he couldn’t control and had somehow lost his trousers while the town’s priest was running after him, and there was a plate of lasagna that were too hot involved somewhere and oh, she can’t remember but it was hilarious.  “And” Anathema asks, “why did that argument remind you of this story?” “Oh” says Mrs Pulsifer. “I don’t know. It just did.” There is ZERO logic to that whole conversation.  Anathema, who has never had any surprise in her life before losing Agnes’ book, looks desperately at Newt. “I thought your family was normal.” “But... We are normal????” Anathema thinks about arguing something back, but she is interrupted by aunt Hortense who decides that now is the perfect time to explain how she nearly died yesterday after going into a scientology building without realizing where she was stepping into. Anathema doesn’t say anything in the end. She’s already too exhausted for that. 

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 4/7ish

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind

Pairing(s): BruAbba, Platonic Bucci Gang

Summary: Leone stays with him almost twenty-four-seven, and he seems to absorb the information better than Bucciarati. Probably because he isn’t trying to find escape routes or attempting to dig his way out of flashbacks while some new medication zaps him of his energy. Still, Bucciarati is grateful. He can’t do this alone, loathe as he is to admit it.

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). This was supposed to be Nara's chapter, but that will be the next one. Instead, have some Bruno-centric chapter in this Bruno-centric fic.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

-

The next three days are something of a blur for Bucciarati. He refuses to be admitted, which complicates matters a bit. The neurologist starts him on a new medication and tells him that it can take days or weeks before they can be sure whether it works or not. There’s something called a ‘steady state’ that can take up to three weeks, though the doctor claims that Bucciarati will know sooner than that whether the medication-- it has a name that’s long and unpronounceable in Bucciarati’s opinion-- works for him.

And that’s the other thing. There’s a learning curve here that Bucciarati can barely keep up with. He hadn’t finished secondary, for fuck’s sake, and they talk at him like he has a clue about anything they’re saying. He hasn’t felt self-conscious about his lack of education in years, but he wants to pull his hair out and snap at them, ‘I joined the mafia at twelve, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

If he’s being honest, part of it is the fog that doesn’t lift from his brain until the third day. Simple tasks seem so much more complicated than they ever have before, and he doesn’t know how to cope with that. He’s been independent for as long as he can remember, making decisions beyond his years even before his father had been shot. He’s quick to adapt and intelligent regardless of his education, but he feels like a child now.

The other part, he knows, is his anxiety and past experiences. The memories all of this dredge up every time he steps foot in the hospital. It’s the reason he can’t handle staying overnight, and he knows that’s dragging the whole process out longer, but what else can he do?

Leone stays with him almost twenty-four-seven, and he seems to absorb the information better than Bucciarati. Probably because he isn’t trying to find escape routes or attempting to dig his way out of flashbacks while some new medication zaps him of his energy. Still, Bucciarati is grateful. He can’t do this alone, loathe as he is to admit it. He needs the help.

And then there’s Panna, who approaches the problem the way he always has: by throwing himself into research. He pulls every medical book they possess in the library and buys several more when he thinks Bucciarati isn’t paying attention. His brain might be moving slower than he’d like, but he does notice the stack of Fugo’s getting taller.

It’s helpful. To have Pannacotta. Bucciarati knows where he can go when he doesn’t understand something. He hasn’t, yet, but he might eventually. For the most part, Pannacotta offers him information in a way that presents as the younger simply sharing his research, and not as Pannacotta reading Bucciarati the way he does his medical texts.

He tries not to get irritated with either of them. To find only the endearing parts of what they’re doing. They only want to take care of him, in their ways, and it isn’t just those two. They tend to be more hands on, but it’s the whole group that shifts their behavior around him.

Giorno’s eyes always linger, in his off time, and he hasn’t called on Bucciarati for consulting, which means he’s working Polnareff more. Bucciarati wants to point out that Polnareff’s own health isn’t anything spectacular, but that isn’t his place.

Mista might be the closest to normal, though the Pistols betray his inner worries. He can barely have them out with Bucciarati without them attaching themselves to him. He doesn’t mind it as much at face value. They’re being affectionate, but the root of why is what agitates him a bit.

Narancia is anxious around him. He does his best to hide it, but he’s clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Bucciarati hopes that it doesn’t. Hopes that Narancia doesn’t have to deal with the fallout of another seizure, but he can’t guarantee that.

Trish… Trish is avoiding him entirely. Bucciarati suspects that he knows why, but he tries to give her space for now.

Fugo is the most reasonable, despite his research. Or possibly because of it. Bucciarati is so used to that being Fugo's coping mechanism that it doesn’t actually bother him. Fugo collects information the way some people collect trading cards. His intelligence is the one thing he’s always been consistently praised for, and he has a habit of leaning into it even now. Besides that, it keeps his mind occupied, and gives him something to infodump about later. When he feels comfortable with the person he’s with.

And then there’s Leone. While his presence is appreciated, it’s a constant reminder that there’s something wrong. The love between them is indisputable, but Bucciarati is nothing if not independent. He’s feeling far from that now, though he understands. He isn’t an unreasonable man. He would do the same if Abbacchio were in the same position as himself. He does, in fact, when Leone’s lung is inflamed or his chest wall is spasming ceaselessly. But, right now, it’s serving as a reminder of everything that is wrong. Everything that has changed, right underneath his feet.

There’s some frustration in the fact that he hasn’t had a seizure since they induced the three in the hospital. It makes all of this seem blown completely out of proportion, and he wants to forget that it’s a problem, but the neurologist had been sure to let him know that the lack of seizures doesn’t mean a lack of epilepsy-- and it is epilepsy; the tests say as much. What it actually means is that his baseline seizure activity may be sporadic, or it could mean that the medication is doing its job. Either way, it’s impossible to tell without more time and possibly more tests; the latter of which Bucciarati refuses for the time being.

It’s on the fourth day that he finally convinces Leone to go back to work. The investigations division needs him, even if he only goes into his physical office for a couple of hours a day. The rest can be done from his laptop, but there are meetings to be had and reports to be taken. He can’t completely neglect his work, and Bucciarati refuses to be the reason for any additional stress on his partner.

Which is how he finds himself alone, in the library at the group’s shared home, when he smells popcorn burning.

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

So this was sitting in my WIP folder forever and I was bouncing between self-insert and OC but I figured it was just too specific for self-insert... ✌︎('ω')✌︎

Part 1 of (?) and tagging some moots- @risottoneroo (I know you’ve been going through it recently, I hope this upcoming series can help distract you just a little bit- I know your writing always helps pick me up) @giogio-gucci-gangstar @rat-makes-stuff and @uttertrash (sorry =w= I get nervous tagging any moots)

Setting for this one is pre-Stardust Crusaders and the best dscription for this timeline is MY CANON NOW. This is a very short entry piece of how Vera (my OC) first met Muhammed Abdul. As the story progresses I’ll give more explanation and context to my OC but for now, all ya gots ta know is that it starts off in Egypt.

Content warning is pretty mild- maybe some mysticism if you’re not comfortable with that but nothing beyond that. (Ya’ll know you just gotta et me know if I miss something)

Also- my interpretation of the tarot crads is about like 20% more accurate than Araki’s- meaning its probably not completly right but it makes a bit more sense than canon.

1.4 K words

Life as an expat in a foreign country wasn’t easy to begin with. Vera grew up a bit isolated from the real world, safely hidden behind the tall walls that held her with the other expat children from expat homes. That was, until she decided to go to a neaarby local market- in search of some cooler casual fabrics, an alternative to the continuously wrong winter fabrics the expat camp gave them for ventures outside of the walls of the camp- even though it was much too luxurious to be called a camp.

The decision to desert the safety o fthe camp had been made on a whim, without much warning to her parents, as casual as if she were heading toward the expat gym.

In hindsight, so much could have gone wrong for a 16-year old foreign girl but the threat of danger was never something she had felt too greatly. She had always felt safe- in a way. It had felt like there was always this...presence around her when she felt any unease. Dangerous or nerve racking situations unfolded themselves as life usually does, but things had a tendency to go her way, danger seeming to veer out of her path. She chcuckled at the thought- how cocky she used to be. Her first few trips unaccompanied had only cemented her idea that she was untouchable.

One faithful day- a few months after continous visits to the market- among the many stalls, stood a tall dark skinned Egyptian man- looming over the wares of a vendor whom Vera had made good acquaintances with. “Ah Muhammed. This is that teenager I was telling you about, the foreigner.”

“Hello Hassan.” She smiled- trying to hint at greeting her first.

She turned to the man beside her, almost two heads taller than herself. Two markings moved down his handsome face, a playful smile on his face- slightly marred by his eyes that seemed to hide an impossible sadness behind the warm brown. “You must be Vera. Pleasant to make your acquaintance. I’m Muhammed Abdul.” He gave a courteous nod, hands folding into his somewhat overlflowing robe sleeves.

Hassan leaned in to chip into the conversation before you could answer. “Vera is a foreigner, doesn’t divulge what her parents do but they’re the first in a long time to walk out the camp unaccompanied.”

“Now Hassan, I’m not one of your wares, no need to advertise me like that.” She smiled at the wares dealer with just a glimmer of warning in her eyes.

Muhammed chuckled. “More importantly why would you want to?” He asked with feign suspision.

Hassan looked shocked, dramatically holding his hand over his chest. “Muhammed, was it not you telling me just a few moments ago that you needed a new assistant for your shop.”

Hassan then rounded on Vera. “And didn’t you say you’d like a part-time job for some extra coin.”

Muhammed threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh straight out of his chest. “Hassan, if I didn’t know any better I’d swear this was an elaborate scheme to get Vera to buy more of your wares.”

Hassan showed his open palms up beside his head in a sign of surrender. “Caught red-handed. Easier to persuade her to buy something when her wallet is full. But why don’t you just believe that it’s a kind gesture?”

Muhammed turned towards you, that same warm smile on his face. “If you’re willing, Vera, we can discuss these things in my shop if you like.”

In the back of her mind she was a bit apprehensive, she’d been taught to keep her guard up when out alone. But then again, she had some mace on her persons, just in case of an emergency. And that presence looming over her shoulder seemed to make itself a bit more known, bringing a comforting warmth to her shoulders. So ,impulsively, she had agreed. “I’d love to see what you have to offer.”

Vera and Muhammed bid Hassan a temporary goodbye, Hassan assuring her that he’d skin Muhammed alive if he laid a finger her. Somehow the image of Hassan attempting to skin this monstrosity of a man walking ahead of her -almost gliding through the streets to his shop- a bit comical but at least she could appreciated the gesture. Ducking under a stone arch and then curling up some stone steps the two of them stopped in front of an old wooden door- looking as if it came straight from the 14th century.

Muhammed unlocked the heavy black iron lock and pushed the door open to reveal a ceiling of stars, dangling charms and sigils. “Would I be stereotyping you if I assumed you were a mystic of some sort?”

Muhammed gave a warm chuckle.“Indeed I am. I am what you’d consider a fortune teller, and Hassan heard assistant, when in actuality I was looking for an apprentice.”

“Would you say there’s a difference?” She had chcukled as she entered deeper into the shop.

Muhammed kept the door open, stepping through behind her as her eyes travelled through all the trinkets, stones, and more.

“Unfortunately there is. If I overstep a boundary, you are more than welcome to leave but...may I ask. Have you ever felt...guarded? Or watched? As if nothing could go wrong and if it did, it would turn out your favor.”

For a moment she couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Sounds like some crazy luck.”

Muhammed laughed again. She spun around on her heel and saw a deck of cards in his hands, tapping the edges on the red clothed table. “It’s actually a phenomenon I study. It’s considered mysticism but...if you really want this job, I’d suggest you at least have some inkling of what that feeling is.”

Abdul’s eyes flashed dark as his gaze moved from Vera to just beside her head. She frowned in confusion, looking over her shoulder to see nothing but before she could ask, Muhammed immediately looked her head-on with a calm yet stern expression. The focus in his eyes back.

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr Abdul. I do possess that feeling. Although it wavers from time to time- probably makes me a little cocky but I’ve never faced a problem that didn’t solve itself.”

Muhammed smiled, straightened a bit and then seamlessly slid into the chair at the table.

“A tarot reading? Before we discuss money then?”

She had laughed but slid into the chair in front of him and watched Abdul’s skilled fingers shuffle the deck and spread it out before her. “Pick three.”

One. Two. Three.

He slid them back together and arranged the three chosen cards a specific way.

“The past. Judgement, reversed.”

“Care to explain?” Her gaze locked with his for a moment.

“Your past is a source of turmoil to you- a never ending fountain of self-doubt and self-flagellation.”

Vera shrugged, not reacting much to this. She wasn’t about to explain her whole life to him any time soon.

“The present. Death, upright. Big change is coming very soon. Be weary of the storm that lies before you.”

You nodded, a slow fear creeping up your spine. Even Abdul seemed to swallow a bit harder at the prospect, as if avoiding her gaze.

“And future. Wheel of fortune, upright. You are the guardian of your own fate- even through the ever-changing storm of fates.”

She nodded, feeling more at ease with the last prediction. “Is it normal to feel such a variety of emotions after a read?”

Muhammed only smiled as he folded his arms before him. “It is. However no one likes pulling the death card. But that beside the point. How does 300 a week sound to you?”

“Generous.”

“Oh it‘ll only seem that way at the start. Later you’ll cuss me out for paying you so little. For now, I think it best I show you the ropes first.”

There a was a beat of silence, before Muhammed gracefully brought his hand out to shake. “Do we have a deal?”

Vera hesitated a moment before trusting in her own character judgement and shaking his hand to seal the deal. Abdul’s warmth as well as what she had seen from his character thusfar had her feeling as though she could trust him. But she’d be lying if that was the only reason- that unshakable good luck she’d been carrying on her shoulders her whole life seemed to assure her that if a problem ever did arise- she’d still be in control of her own fate.

It was, however, not Abdul whomst she had to worry about...

For not a month into her apprenticeship- Death has already sunken its claws into her life, and a violent change would alter the course of her life forever.

[1kook]

baecation

Jeon Jeongguk x (F) Reader

summary⥗“Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart. tags⥗richboy!jk, -3 knowledge of how vacations work, domestic love!!!, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, fingering, jk’s white ass cheeks mention wc⥗5.9k u ever randomly get inspired for the first time in 2 months and write a whole fic in one night anyway enjoy

There were many perks to dating the heir of your city’s top conglomerate, the endless showering of gifts being one of them, but your favorite thing about your boyfriend wasn’t his overflowing pockets or his secure future, but the lovesick look in his eyes when you told him how much you loved him.

Jeongguk was an enigma.

He was born to be the stereotypical rich boy that authors of teen fiction could only dream of, his looks suitable for magazine covers and his brains destined for top-notch universities. His bloodline was carefully crafted by generations before him, every marriage carefully planned and executed with the ultimate goal to preserve their place in society as apex predators. In fact, Jeongguk’s entire life had been one big script his family had carefully pushed him along, from the fencing classes he took to the hiring of the nation’s best nannies to care for him, all subtle enough for him to not complain but demanding enough that he knew what was going on.

The only thing they hadn’t planned in Jeongguk’s life was him meeting you.

They had never planned for him to meet some middle-class girl, who was definitely not an heiress to any particular company or celebrity of any level, just some random girl he had accidentally bumped into leaving a charity event at the local community park. They hadn’t planned for his long, gangly arms to knock your phone out of your hand, or send it tumbling into the lake as you both watched on in horror. It was only after the quiet plop of water registered in both your ears that you had whirled on him, half of you in shock and the other in fury.

Jeongguk was, as previously stated, handed everything on a silver platter. His parents hardly bothered with teaching him how to do things. He barely understood how to work a washing machine, because all of that was done for him by other people. At the moment, he didn’t have to bother with taking an entrance exam to the best university this side of the country because he knew his parents would pay for the entire thing out of pocket. He especially didn’t ever have to worry about what to do when random girls scolded him in public sight, because frankly, it would never happen.

Yet here he was, completely startled as you told him to watch where he was going, and to learn how to apologize to people when you’ve done something wrong. He’d never had someone of a lower status than him treat him so aggressively before, and when you pause to catch your breath all he can stumble out is that he’ll replace your phone, he’ll even buy you the best model, what was your number so his people could reach out to you again?

The last sentence has you groaning in frustration, as you pointed furiously towards the lake, because how on earth was he supposed to contact you when your phone was 20 feet below surface level?!

After another fifteen minutes of you continuing your verbal rampage against him, the entirety of it which he’d spent fending off his security guard and his assistant (both who’d been appalled that he’d willingly let this peasant swear and curse at him) as he stared at you in awe.

When you finally calmed down and he’d offered to take you to the Starbucks across the street to figure out the details of your phone replacement, he’s surprised to find out your normal disposition is nothing like the one you’d first shown him. In fact, you’re rather sheepish and embarrassed at the coffee shop, albeit still a little upset with him for trashing your phone.

After you’ve finished nailing out the little details of your phone replacement, which included you hesitantly giving him your address, he leaves right away. He’s sad to leave so soon, having become completely enthralled with your entire being in the thirty minutes he’s come to know you, that he finds himself hopelessly staring out of the backseat of the Benz as he travels back to his upscale apartment in the heart of the city. He hopes you don’t forget him so soon.

To say you’re surprised to see a package on your doorstep the next morning is an understatement. You remember every online purchase you make, and if memory serves you right, you hadn’t made one in the past month to warrant its arrival today. After glancing down both ends of your hall, you tug the mystery package inside.

In hindsight you probably should have been more cautious of the entire situation, but part of you was extremely curious to see what brought this surprise on. After tugging the tape off and shuffling through the packing peanuts you’re met with a sleek box for the hottest and most expensive phone right now, a pink bow carefully tied around to secure a note.

One of our guard’s fished around the lake for the phone I misplaced and managed to retrieve the memory card. I hope you won’t mind the new contact I added.

Best,

Jeon Jeongguk

And thus was the start of your love story.

-

You’re wondering if Jeongguk’s sudden idea was truly a spur of the moment epiphany or another ploy for him to get out of going to the ball his father had planned at the end of this month. You’ve come to learn in the last two years that despite his perfect boy aura, he was quite the impulsive shithead. Eitherway, you know he would have invited you to wherever he was going, and if he hadn’t, his mother would have shipped you a gown from her favorite designer and asked you to drag him there.

As it stands, it’s not a fancy ball you’re preparing for this time around, but a luxurious spring break in the Bahamas, away from school and family and anything to ruin your mood for the next week. You’d just finished your midterms when he bursts into your dorm room, demanding you pack your bags, baby, we’re going to the beach! Evidently, it was not the local beach you were going to. No, the ‘beach’ Jeongguk had referred to was one he conveniently forgot to mention was an entire plane ride away. It wasn’t until he returned later that same day to usher you off to the airport that he realizes how sorely under packed you are.

So now here you were, frantically cramming a week’s worth of cute, summer-y clothes into the only suitcase you own, running back and forth from your closet to the suitcase to the desk where you kept all your beauty products and shower essentials, while your boyfriend ate one of your granola bars on your bed.

“You better not get any crumbs on the bed, you know I hate finding them later,” you scold, not even bothering to look at him as you stuff all your makeup into a small bag.

Jeongguk snorts. “You won’t even be sleeping here for a week, babe,” he says, voice calm and relaxed in the way only someone who’s already done packing can be. The only consolation to your current state was that Jeongguk had booked his family’s private jet, so you really couldn’t be late to a flight only the two of you would be on.

You turn around with a hand on your hip, giving him the same unimpressed look you always do when he’s being unreasonable. “I’m sure the mice you’re attracting will keep it warm for me.” He rolls his eyes, finishing off his snack and then making a big show of patting down your creaky mattress to rid it of any granola crumbs.

He’s settled back into the bed when he speaks again. “Take the orange crop top you bought from Forever 21 last month, it makes your boobs looks amazing.”

You tuck your socks and undergarments against the suitcase’s inner pocket. “Oh right, ‘cause that’s a priority right now.” You don’t wanna tell him it’s already folded against your other clothes because you, too, think it makes your boobs look amazing.

You hear the rustling of the bed sheets once more, before you see his long legs come to a rest around you, arms wrapping around your waist to watch you ruffle through the clothing you already have. “Not my fault my girl’s got a nice set on her.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you beg, reaching over to your pile of haphazardly thrown shorts and skirts to fold some more into your luggage. You’re careful of not moving far enough away that his arms would dislodge from their embrace. “We could have been halfway to the Bahamas right now if someone bothered to plan things ahead of time and not last minute as a means to get out of a charity ball.”

Jeongguk groans, letting his head fall forward to rest against your back, his soft breath leaving your back warm through your t-shirt. “Can’t a guy just steal his girlfriend away to the Bahamas for a week to avoid the overwhelming stress of life, and maybe choke on some exotic shrimp while she chokes on his di—”

“Get off of me, you pervert!”

The second you step foot on the archipelago that is the gem of the resort world, it’s about seven thousand degrees hotter than it was back home, and the sweat on the back of your neck can attest to that. The jet ride here had been pretty fun, it being your first experience flying private, but also flying in general. Jeongguk had kept you entertained both on the take off and landing, lips kissing down every inch of your neck with a promise for more later.

Well, it was later now, and the need to be sated was still present, something you’re not quite sure your boyfriend was aware of. Jeongguk was like that. Forgetful as fuck. The only reason he ever got anything done was because he had that assistant of his practically glued to his hip at every moment of the day, breathing down his neck every task he needed to complete. If it was up to Jeongguk, and Jeongguk alone, things would get done at a very slow pace.

But you were nothing like your boyfriend, and you suppose it’s why you two go together so well. While he put things to the side, you needed everything to be done right away and fast. Which is why you find yourself pulling him away from the scuba diving kiosk in an effort to check into your high-end cottage away from all the tourist hub.

“Babeee,” he whines, almost forgetting his luggage for the nth time, not used to actually having to haul his things by himself. “We could have seen the reef! You know, where all the fish are at? Where Nemo lives.”

“Uh huh, that’s nice,” you say, finding the driver Jeongguk’s assistant (bless his uptight, perfectionist ass) had booked for your arrival. “But we need to check in first and make sure our rental is all good.”

He seems miffed about the fact people actually have to do that, and had it not been his status as a trust-fund baby funding this entire trip, you would have liked to sock him right in the nose. But he’s your boyfriend and you’re used to his somewhat clueless ways by now, so you let it go.

You don’t know what you expected his assistant to rent out for you guys, but it certainly wasn’t the swanky beach house your driver pulls up to. It’s carefully secluded from the other houses around it, a high hedge-turned-fence surrounding the private yard. It hides a decent sized pool, a few lawn-chairs, and a hot tub from the public beach down below. The house itself is marvelous, complete with multiple bedrooms, two baths, and the most luxurious kitchen you’ve ever seen in a beach house.

“Oh,” you say upon stepping out of the car, mouth agape as you take in the sight of your accommodation for the next few days.

A pair of hands snake around your waist before carefully coming to rest above your navel. Jeongguk presses a gentle kiss to your temple, murmuring, “all for you, princess.” The waves crashing against the beach below are miniscule compared to the sudden blossoming of warmth in your chest.

“Shut up,” you shyly whine, turning around to envelope him in your arms. Your need for him and his body fades at the breathtaking sight behind you, and you find yourself forgetting about it completely as you venture around the house.

It’s the same day when you decide to go out into the yard and tan for a bit. Jeongguk had went in for a nap, a little tired from keeping you entertained on the long flight, because he’d stayed awake even when you fell asleep just in case you woke up scared. You don’t try to discourage him, watching him snuggle into the king mattress as you shuffle around for your bikini.

You’re absentmindedly applying another layer of sunscreen to your face, sunglasses pushed onto the top of your head. You’re completely enveloped by thoughts of your boyfriend, of how he could have easily ran off to the Bahamas alone (he went to Moscow last November on a trip to ‘find himself’), but he’d elected to whisk you off with him.

You tuck your AirPods—another gift from him—into your ears before finally settling into the comfort of a lounge chair, the sun’s rays beating down on you full force. It feels wonderful being away from everything you know with the comfort of returning. You’d always dreamt of visiting such places as a teenager, the presence of a lover or not, but now you truly got to live out those fantasies with Jeongguk.

He was a dream.

It’s about thirty minutes into your session when you register the sound of the sliding door, and you crack one eye open to see your refreshed boyfriend wandering into the backyard in a pair of swimming trunks and a goofy look on his face. “Oh, pardon me, I didn’t know such women came to the public pool,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, not that he sees through the shades protecting you. “Don’t you dare try to roleplay with me, weirdo.”

He cackles, before somersaulting into the pool, and you find yourself squealing at the splash he makes. He disappears for a second under the water, but then pops back up at the ledge closest to you. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Play along and maybe we’ll go to the spa tomorrow morning,” he offers.

“Fine.” You decide to join him, but not because the spa.

Jeongguk laughs at your petulant tone of voice, before sprawling out to float across the surface of the pool. “Great, so here’s what I was thinking. Me, the rich middle-aged husband coming here strictly for business. And you, the shy darling relaxing by the pool with her girlfriends who are all pushing her to go talk to me.”

“Sounds perfect, except for the part where I’m actually the sly minx coming here to scam a rich college boy out of his money, luring him into the most pleasurable sex he’s ever had, before ghosting him for all eternity and leaving him forever waiting for someone like me to come into his life again,” you propose.

Jeongguk blinks. “Wow, that sounded so realistic. You’re either really good at this, or… I should be worried,” he playfully accuses, before throwing over a gesture that says im watching you. You laugh.

“Just keep swimming, rich boy.”

He does as you tell him, playing in the water as you tune back into the music drifting into your ears. You’re about done tanning the front side of your body, and flip over to make sure your backside catches the rays as well. You set your sunglasses off to the side, and when you look back for them they’re adorning Jeongguk’s silly face as he doggy paddles around the donut floaty he found.

“Untie your top, dumby. Unless you want those ugly tan lines,” Jeongguk calls out in that brash tone of his. You flip him the bird, before sitting up in a very Ariel-esque pose to glance around your private yard.

As if sensing your hesitation, Jeongguk paddles over to your side, leveling you with an unimpressed look. “These bushes are as tall as a door, and there’s no one around for the next half mile, babe. Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.”

He truly knew the way to your heart.

You untie the knots at your back and your neck, carefully laying back down to get that perfect tan Jeongguk was talking about. Admittedly, you do feel a bit better knowing you won’t return home with noticeable tan lines, and that much is enough to have your topless self blissfully relaxing.

Your soundtrack is the playlist you had collected on the plane ride, occasionally joined by the splashing Jeongguk makes as he moves around the pool, and before you know it, your timer is ringing to let you know it’s time to flip over again. This time, you’re less hesitant about shedding your top, breasts bare to the sky as you throw the top over your eyes (guess where your sunglasses still where).

You hear a wolf whistle from the other side of the yard, and catch sight of Jeongguk sitting at the edge of the pool. His skin is glistening from the water, the sun enveloping him in its warmth. He’d been outside for a shorter time than you but somehow he’d accumulated a darker color faster. The sun loved him like no other. He’s pushing himself to his feet when he catches your gaze, mischievous smirk twisting his features as he rounds the pool.

“Didn’t know this was a nude beach,” he says, and you curse your body for the way it reacts to the sight of his messy hair and tone abdomen. Your nipples harden embarrassingly and you can’t even hide them.

“Tired already?” You muse instead, hoping he doesn’t comment on the state of your breasts. “Tired after a plane ride, tired after swimming. Didn’t know I was dating an old man.”

“Har har,” he says in a monotone voice, and you can’t help the curl of a smile at beating him at his own playful ways. He stops in front of you, and your expression is knocked clean off when the water droplets clinging to his body fall onto your warm skin.

“Jeongguk!” You whine, pushing him away with your foot in a valiant effort to save yourself from the cold water. If anything, your actions end up bringing your demise as he catches your ankle in his hand.

“Ah ah, princess,” he tuts, bending your leg upward only to place his knee where it once was. He ducks down to tower over you, your continuous squealing only bringing an evil smile to his face. “What did we say about tan lines?”

You push him away, groaning in defeat as his hair drips even more water onto your skin. “I took the top off, what now?”

He glances down, and for a moment, you’re confused as to what he sees that you don’t. You're only met with the sight of your yellow bikini bottom preserving the last of your dignity.

You scoff. “You’re kidding.”

Much to your chagrin, he’s not.

“You’re on one of the nicest islands in the world, staying in a private home with fences tall enough to stop Bigfoot from looking in, and you’re gonna tan with your bikini bottoms on? You’re ridiculous.”

You shove his shoulder, before resigning yourself to getting soaked by him as he shuffles around to squish you under his weight. “You’re ridiculous for thinking I’d be outside without any clothes on!”

He snorts against your shoulder, long arms moving around until he has one somewhat curled beneath you. “Nah. You are.”

“Don’t start with me, Jeon.”

He shifts again to look you in the eye. “Come on, ___. You’re really gonna get tan lines when you could avoid them?”

You roll yours eyes. “You couldn’t get me to go outside completely naked for a million bucks, baby.” The beginning of a grin curls around his lips. “Don’t even think about it.”

This brings a laugh out of him, before he’s laying back down to kiss your neck. “You’re silly.” All you can really hope for now is that him laying on top of you won’t give you an even worse tan line.

Just when you think he’s given up on his quest to have you completely naked outside, you feel the slightest tug on the tie holding your bikini in place, slapping your hand down on his as if he were a pesky fly. “Fine!” He huffs, rolling off you to jump back into the water. “I hope everyone sees your uneven tan.”

“No one would see a tan line on my coochie, Jeon,” you remind him, flinching when he decides to cannonball into the water right beside you, sprinkling you in another round of water pellets.

He emerges from the clear water a moment later, paddling to the ledge beside you to flick more water your way. “I will,” he retorts. “When I got you bent over tomorrow morning.”

You don’t hesitate to fling your bikini top his way, the yellow fabric smacking him across the face. “In that case, you should take those shorts off, because I certainly don’t wanna have to look at your pasty thighs.”

“You love my milky thighs,” he hums, traversing the length of the pool for his donut floaty again.

“Milky?”

Your tiny quarrel ends there, Jeongguk soon becoming too immersed in competing against himself in a breath-holding contest to bother you any longer. He’s adorable like this, cheeks puffed out like Mrs. Puff every time his head pops out of the water, that you almost forget to flip over when your timer rings again.

It’s in the midst of your repositioning that you dare take a peak beneath your bottoms. Much to your disdain, there is a growing disparity between the skin beneath your swimsuit and the skin around it. Nothing too bad, but if you were to lay out as long as you planned, it’d become embarrassingly noticeable. Your breasts had been saved from any differences thanks to Jeongguk’s early warning, and you begin wondering if shedding your bottoms would inflate his already huge ego.

No matter, you discreetly unknot the ties securing your bottoms, hoping he won’t notice from across the yard as you carefully slip them off.

You make quick work of laying on your stomach again, your ass finally catching some rays after being covered for so long. You won’t lie, there’s an unexpected wave of comfort that comes with being bare outside, your entire body wonderfully enveloped by the sun’s beaming rays. You snuggle into the lounge chair’s cushions as you nearly reach nirvana.

Your blissful state is ruined not even ten minutes later when the sound of Jeongguk’s heavy splashing comes closer and closer. It’s not until you hear the splat of his wet feet against the pavement that you realize you’re in trouble.

There’s a playful smack against your ass, and you yelp in surprise. “Jeon!” You whine, instantly sitting up on your forearms to narrow your eyes at him. He’s flashing you that playful grin of his as he plops down beside you, not even having to ask you to move over because you do so subconsciously

“Knew you’d give in eventually,” he sighs, leaning back on his palms as he tries to catch his breath. You decide to give up on your dreams of having a peaceful tanning session, turning around to face your glistening boyfriend.

“What do you want for lunch?” You ask instead, running a hand through the hair at the nape of your neck, rolling your shoulders around to get some movement back into them. He shrugs, slithering his way up the cushions to squish himself beside you. It’s a tight fit, but he makes it easier by throwing your leg over his middle.

“Probably some good food in the little village a mile from here. Could probably walk there too.” You hum in agreement, snuggling into his side. You’ve long since gotten over the coldness of his skin, cheek pressed against his chest. He’s got a hand on your lower back, partially to hold you close but also to stop you from rolling off the chair.

Right as your snoozing off, so wonderfully warm beneath the sun and comfortable in your birthday suit, you feel a pair of fingers brush against the backside of your thigh, and then ghost over your exposed pussy.

“You’re despicable,” you murmur, tweaking his nipple between your fingers. Jeongguk snickers, shifting you around so you’re mostly on top of him now, your awakened core pressed against his thigh.

“C’mon, princess,” he goads, running a pair of moist fingers along your thigh again, trying to carefully coax you into doing what he wants. Most things, you now realize, tend to go Jeongguk’s way regardless of other factors. “No one’ll hear us out here.”

“But what if someone does,” you point out, always the voice of reason when it comes to Jeongguk’s ideas. “We could get in trouble, Guk. I don’t know…”

“In trouble for what?” Is his smart rebuttal, shuffling beneath you so you can finally feel the swollen cock hiding beneath his swimming trunks. “Enjoying ourselves in our own home? Oh, the terror.” Upon seeing the uncertainty that still clings to your features, he drops the somewhat cocky attitude to press a kiss to your nose. “It’s all good, princess,” he soothes, ducking down to caress the side of your face with his cherried lips. “If anything, I’ll just bribe our way out of any trouble.”

“Ugh,” you groan, melting into him as you finally give in. “I hate when you say that.”

Jeongguk snuffles a laugh against your jaw, maneuvering the two of you around until you’re laid flat against the cushion with him hovering over you. “When I say what?” He teases. “That my wallet is as fat as my cock?”

You roll your eyes, untying the knot he’d done at the front of his shorts. “Get that fat cock of yours out before I change my mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he complies, setting one foot on the floor to push his shorts down, until you’re met with the sight of his stark thighs. You cackle, and his arrogant smirk is wiped off as he glances down at his two-toned legs.

“What happened to getting the perfect tan?” You sneer, tapping a finger against his muscled thighs. “Don’t tell me your ass is this white, too.”

He huffs in annoyance, before reclaiming his spot between your legs again, tugging you down until your cores are pressed together. “Shut up.” You do as he says, words catching in your throat at the feeling of his engorged cock brushing against your wet folds.

His slips a hand down to languidly toy with your folds, his fingers slightly pruny from all the time he spent in the water. It feels a little weird, but any complaints you may have had are wiped away when he nudges your bud with the tip of his pointer finger. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders at the sudden stimulation against your core. “Ohh,” you sigh, eyes rolling backwards.

“Feel good?” He checks, eyes trained on your expressions, lips unconsciously puckering to kiss you, even with your writhing beneath him. You let out a high-pitched mewl, much to your embarrassment, cheeks flushed warm from the sun and his ministrations. You nod belatedly.

He lets his wandering hands carry on, carefully travelling across the entirety of your folds. He knows your body like no other, so familiar with the dips and curves, that it’s impossible for him to not immediately locate your g-spot upon plunging his fingers inside you. “G-Guk!” you cry out, hands falling to grip at his biceps.

He presses a kiss to your throat. “That’s it, baby, lemme hear you,” he murmurs, and subtly presses his cock to the inside of your thigh. “Looked so delicious out here,” he sighs, and it’s as if he’s talking to himself. “Wanted to fuck your pretty little pussy from the second I stepped outside.”

Your back arches beneath him at a particular scissor of his fingers, another whine caught in your throat. “Want you so bad,” you whimper, reaching a hand up to tangle in his dark locks. You use the leverage to pull his lips towards yours, meeting in a frantic crash that has you whining against him even more.

His tongue slips past your lips, subduing yours when you try the same on him, and you almost choke on the excess saliva pooling in your mouth. Right before you can, he pulls back in favor of trapping your lower lip between his teeth. Your eyes flutter open, and you meet his own dark gaze.

“Ready?” He huffs, pulling his fingers out from within you. They’re shiny with your slick, almost as wet as they’d been when he was swimming earlier. You nod, dazed from all the pleasure he was giving you, that you can’t do more but spread your legs for him. He leans back on his knees, lining himself up with your hole.

You’d long since eliminated condoms from your relationship with Jeongguk, your trust in each other overwhelmingly so. Besides, you were still on the pill, and Plan B existed, so you never really worried about slipping up and accidentally getting yourself pregnant. Although there were times when he’d go overboard, stuffing you with his cum until you feel bloated, you’d never gotten pregnant before, so you wouldn’t begin to worry now.

Just the idea of feeling him in his entirety has you salivating, needy hands reaching out to grasp any part of him you can reach. Jeongguk snickers at your desperate ways, knotting his fingers with yours before pressing them to the cushion beneath you, the other gripping onto your thigh to keep your legs spread.

The second his tip pushes through the initial tightness, your mouth drops open, indecipherable noises escaping you. “J-Jeon,” you cry, chest heaving at the sudden intrusion.

“Relax for me, princess,” he huffs, just as out of it as you. Your body feels like it’s ascended, Jeongguk’s cock slowly pushing in further with each breath you take. It doesn’t take much longer for him to completely bottom out, the warm skin of his thighs pressing against you.

You’re like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as your body slowly assimilates to the feeling of being so absolutely full. It’s not until Jeongguk subtly shifts his weight onto his other leg that you give him the green light to start fucking you.

You moan, the first few thrusts hitting against every sweet spot inside you. “God, you’re so fucking big,” you heave, clenching around him just to feel the drag of his cock against your walls.

Jeongguk chuckles through his own pants, the fingers entwined with yours becoming impossibly tighter. “You’re too good for me,” he sighs, hauling your thigh further up his forearm until its resting in the crease of his elbow. The positioning allows his strokes to go deeper. You cry out, squirming beneath him with each thrust he gives.

“Oh fuck,” you cry wantonly when he plunges deeper into you, the water that decorated his skin long having been replaced by the sweat clinging to him. Your eyes flutter shut and you’re left only listening to the sounds of you, Jeongguk, and the ocean waves beneath you. “I love you,” you whimper.

Jeongguk grunts, ducking down to kiss you again, his hips not once slowing down. “Love you too, princess,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you,” he groans, puncuating his statement with a brutal thrust of his cock into you. “Gonna buy you that pretty Valentino bag when we get back, I promise,” he adds, picking up his pace.

You whine, “You don’t have to, Jeon, I—”

He cuts you off, “and that silver Audi you liked at the car show last winter,” he rambles on, seemingly clueless to your protest. “A-And maybe that Louis Vuttion coat that brings out the color in your eyes—”

“I saw the same one at H&M,” you interrupt, swiveling your hips upwards to meet his thrusts. He chokes out a laugh.

“Shut up and just let me spoil you,” he groans, and then seemingly forgets what else he was planning on buying you as he focuses his complete attention on helping you reach your orgasm.

With his focus solely on that, you find the burning feeling in your lower abdomen grow tenfold, voice becoming more annoying with each moan and whine you give. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his thrusts sending tingles up and down your spine. He peppers kisses down your chest, each touch leaving your skin scorching.

Time seems to slow when the coil in your stomach finally snaps, an embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips as your body spasms beneath him. “Oh, Jeongguk,” you sigh, falling limp on the lounge chair as he continues chasing his high.

He pulls out soon enough, giving his cock a few tugs before he’s spurting his come across your lower abdomen, leaning back to admire his masterpiece. He’s panting afterwards, and the backyard feels eerily quiet as you both just gaze at each other with goofy smiles on your faces.

The romantic aura is ruined when he feels the need to say, “hey, maybe now my ass won’t be so white.”

“Fuck, you look sexy,” he murmurs when the instructor finally turns around, leaving Jeongguk to gawk at your body in the tight wetsuit provided. “Gonna fuck you so good tonight.”

“Shut up,” you blush, trying to stop your eyes from violating your boyfriend’s disgustingly gorgeous body in the matching wetsuit he wears. “We’ll get kicked out of the group, Guk.”

He rolls his eyes. “I could have rented the whole place out for us, but someone thought scuba diving with the other corny tourists would be fun.”

You flick his forehead. “You don’t have to buy out every building we go to,” you remind him, memories of this morning’s completely empty breakfast bar flickering to attention. “Besides, I wouldn’t have let you fuck me tonight anyway.”

He scoffs at your claim. “Please, you would have begged me, ___.”

You hit him with the wide end of your swimming fin, then have to apologize to the instructor for your horseplay, much to Jeongguk’s amusement. You narrow your eyes at him, following the rest of the group out onto the boardwalk leading to the boat. “Find me a Nemo, and we’ll do it in the beach cabana.”

Jeongguk’s lips twists into the most devious smirk you’ve ever seen, and he smacks your ass as he runs ahead of you. You yelp, just as he turns to face you just as he nears the group. “Has anyone seen my son?”

[chronictonsillitis]

once bitten (1/?) - Bellarke (explicit, mafia, a/b/o, arranged marriage)

Clarke is 17 when she meets the man she’s going to marry.

It’s nothing romantic at all. There’s no lightning, no fireworks, no fabled mate bond snapping into place. The alpha just looks her up and down, turns back to her new stepfather, and says: “She’ll do.”

She barely has a chance to get a look at him before she’s hustled off: Bellamy Blake, capo of New York Outfit. He looks— young. Much too young for the sort of reputation he’s already amassed.

The Rebel King, they call him. And now, her fiancé.

***

written for @t100fic-for-blm for ao3 user Who_needs_reality

ao3 or 

Clarke is 17 when she meets the man she’s going to marry.

It’s nothing romantic at all. There’s no lightning, no fireworks, no fabled mate bond snapping into place. The alpha just looks her up and down, turns back to her new stepfather, and says: “She’ll do.”

And that’s it.

She barely has a chance to get a look at him before she’s hustled off: Bellamy Blake, capo of New York Outfit. He looks— young. Much too young for the sort of reputation he’s already amassed.

The Rebel King, they call him. And now, her fiancé.

It’s not until later that Clarke is told of the arrangement.

It’s normal, in her world. Clarke never expected to be allowed to marry for love, but she never really considered the alternative either. Perhaps if her father hadn’t died, if her mother hadn’t immediately married Kane, if Marcus’s claim to leadership had been a bit less shaky, if he’d had any children of his own; maybe Clarke would’ve had more choice, and more time. But she doesn’t. Being engaged to a man she’s seen once before she’s even graduated high school isn’t exactly what she envisioned as a little girl. And to someone like Bellamy—

Clarke isn’t afraid of many things, and she’s not afraid of him, but if she were to be afraid of anyone— Bellamy has earned fear. His name is whispered in dark rooms and spit as a threat across battlefields. He’s a beast, a boogeyman: a monster amongst monsters.

He’s handsome, she thinks, when she allows herself to think about it. At least he’s handsome.

She’s put on suppressants immediately after the bargain with Bellamy has been struck, even though she hasn’t presented yet. They all know she’ll be an omega, have known since she was born. It’s rare to test for designation, the procedure exclusive and expensive, but the Griffins have never been known to shy away from something so little as a price-tag.

Sometimes she wishes the test had been wrong. That she’d been born a beta, or an alpha even, and then she wouldn’t have to go through with the idiotic farce of a marriage. But then she thinks harder and realizes there’d be no escaping. Her mother’s beta status hadn’t saved her from not one but two arranged marriages, not that Clarke has ever heard her complaining. If she’d been born a different designation, she’d simply be engaged to someone else. Still, she’d be spared the humiliation of the biology.

With Bellamy an alpha, and her an omega, marriage and mating are synonymous. She’ll have her heats suppressed until the time comes for them to marry, at which point she’ll be married, knotted, and mated; all before she has a chance to get to known her husband-to-be. And everyone will know.

She knows in normal society that people have partners before they marry. That her friends at school aren’t virgins, and that alphas see omegas through their heats without mating all the time. But that’s not an option for her.

Clarke would like to rebel, would like to have someone of her own, on her own terms. Let biology take its course and screw the plans. But it would be a death sentence for that person, if not for Clarke as well. Bellamy won’t take her if she’s soiled. No one will.

For some reason the idea doesn’t scare her as much as it should.

Anyways, it’s a moot point. She’s as safe as it can get barring her own mistakes. It’s traditional in circles like hers to have the wedding right before an omega’s first heat, but these days that can mean anything if you’re lucky enough, and with the help of the right suppressants. Clarke’s got the best money can buy. Bellamy is being relatively generous, even, for letting her go to college first. Maybe she’ll push him again as it closer to the end, aim for grad school, med school maybe. She could buy herself another five years.

College is the closest to freedom that she’s ever had, even with the bodyguard who follows her everywhere. She doesn’t have friends, not really, but she’s off-campus, and she loves her work. She loves going to class, she loves learning. It’s depressing to know it means nothing— she be a trophy wife to Bellamy no matter how many degrees she gets; women in her world don’t work. But still, she’s good at it and that’s—  it feels good.

It goes well for three years, no bumps, no mishaps, no failed classes or assassination attempts. No missed suppressants, no unladylike behavior, no loss of innocence. But then— her mother visits.

“Come,” Abby tells her. “We’re going shopping.”

It becomes clear immediately that they’re shopping for something, not just doing something fun. Her mother’s eye is too calculating as she looks Clarke over, too critical as she tugs the fabric tighter around Clarke’s waist, watching the way her breasts spill out of the tops in the size she used to wear.

“You’ve gained weight,” she tells Clarke gravely, like it’s a terminal diagnosis. Clarke rolls her eyes and pulls back, snatching herself away with a frown.

“Who cares?”

Abby raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s tall, willowy. Not like Clarke in the slightest, but why should she be? She’s not an omega, after all. “Your fiancé might.”

Clarke glares at her own reflection. She likes her body just fine as it is. “And I repeat, who cares? I have a year and a half, he can sneer at me disdainfully himself if he’d like.”

“You will see him tonight.”

Clarke whirls at the words, her mouth dropping open. “What— no! He agreed, til the end of college! I haven’t graduated.”

If Abby was the type to roll her eyes, she’d do it now, but she isn’t. Instead she just looks down her nose at her daughter, taking in her wild eyes and flushed face with cool indifference. “He would like to meet you. Speak to you. This has no bearing on the wedding.” She looks Clarke up and down, lip twisting. “God willing, that is.”

Clarke isn’t sure how best to play along. She’s numb through the rest of the day, letting Abby take her into the salon, wash and buff and trim her to a shine, and shove her into a dress that if Clarke was in a better mood she’d describe as lawyer-whore chic and heels that make her look slightly taller than she actually is, although it’s still not a lot.

She looks like a little doll.

If this had been a courtship, if the wedding was not already set, there’d be a chaperone, but it’s too late for that. Her mother drops her off with a sniff and an oblique threat to not fuck this whole thing up. Clarke feels nothing.

He’s waiting when she walks in. She’d like to say she’d almost forgotten his face, but it’s not true. She recognizes him instantly, and the scent that overwhelms her. She steels herself, rolling her shoulders back and shaking her hair. Typical fucking alpha.

Bellamy watches her approach with a small smirk, sipping on a glass of something amber. Whiskey, most likely. He stands as she gets closer, pulling out the chair across from where he was sitting. Clarke resists the urge to take the seat he’s just vacated, just to see what he’d do. It’s too early to show her cards.

She takes the hand he offers and allows him to help her into her chair. He pulls her hair back over her shoulders as she sits. It’s a move Clarke would normally never allow, but as he does it his fingers graze her neck, barely brushing over her scent glands. Her mind goes completely blank, a shudder running through her body.

He’s smiling as he takes his seat across from her, eyes gleaming black with satisfaction.

“You look very beautiful tonight, princess.”

Clarke blinks at him. The haze begins to clear from her head, the butterflies in her stomach going sour. “My name is Clarke.”

Bellamy raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware of that, yes.”

Clarke opens her mouth to say something biting like ‘you could’ve fooled me’ or ‘then save the pet names for your dogs’ or ‘please, alpha, don’t make me marry you’, but she thinks better of it and closes it again. She takes a sip of water, examining the edge of her napkin.

“Would you like a drink? Wine, maybe?”

She shrugs in response.

He seems content to just watch her, not that she’s checking. His scent is heavy with pleasure though, warm and bright and chokingly good. It makes her almost dizzy, and she tries to subtly breathe through her mouth to avoid it. She’s quiet for a long time, wrapped up in her thoughts. He must have missed a blocker, or maybe he takes low doses to maintain his alpha schtick for the Outfit, Clarke’s not sure. Either way, it’s inconvenient for her, and likely any other omega he comes across.

How many others is he around?, her omega wonders nervously. Does he want them? Do they make him smell like this too?

Clarke takes another sip of water. She doesn’t look at him.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?”

She startles at the sound of his voice, pulling her out of her reverie. He’s still looking at her, but his expression is resigned, shoulders tense. His grip around his glass is tight enough his knuckles have gone white. His scent, though still regrettably delicious, is less overwhelmingly intense.

“How what’s going to be, sir?”

Bellamy frowns. “Our marriage,” he says, sounding tired. “And you don’t have to call me sir.”

Clarke bristles, lips tightening. Her voice is hard, and Abby would kill her if she heard the next words out of her mouth. “I will not call you alpha.”

Bellamy actually cracks a smile at that. “You will eventually, omega,” he purrs. Clarke shivers involuntarily, heat shooting between her legs at the crude use of her designation. She rubs her thighs together and his grin widens. “But Bellamy will do fine for now.”

He’s so— irritating, for someone who could have Clarke and her entire family killed at any minute. Who could kill her right now, if he wanted. She’s heard stories of his brutality, and yet, here he is, grinning at her. Boyishly charming, and handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and it should make him look official, but it’s artfully disheveled. His long dark curls graze the collar in a way her stepfather would never allow.

“How’s school?” Bellamy asks, and her eyes snap back to his.

“Fine.”

“What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“What an excellent conversationalist my fiancée is.” He gives her a wry smile over his whiskey, raising his glass. “You can’t bore me into finding another wife, you know that as well as I do. We may as well make some attempt to get to know each other at least little bit before—” Bellamy trails off, his eyes falling to her neck. Clarke resists the urge to pull her hair over her scent glands. They prickle, itchy with just the idea of being touched.

Of being bitten.

“How’s work, then?” Clarke shoots back, sitting back in her seat. “I’d love to hear about your life too. About the— family.”

It’s a trick, and he sees it, but his smile doesn’t fall. If anything, he looks even more satisfied at her challenge. “Oh, how easy it would be spill my secrets to a Griffin,” he says, shaking his head. “But I know better than that. Once we’re married, princess, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Will he? It would be unusual, to let a woman in on business secrets, even if she is his wife. Even Abby isn’t privy to the inner machinations of Kane’s Outfit, nor was she privy to Jake’s before his untimely death. Clarke looks Bellamy over thoughtfully, holding her water to her mouth. “I’ll still be a Griffin.”

His lip curls. “Not by name. And not where it counts.”

She considers him, searching his face for— something. Some sign that he’s joking, or being cruel, but there’s nothing. He’s an open book, or at least he seems like it. “I’m an art minor,” Clarke offers eventually, setting her glass down on the table. It’s a concession. “Painting. And my biology thesis is on differential metabolomics between designations. Or it will be once it’s finished.”

“What does that mean?”

Clarke hesitates. Abby would hate if she answered, hate it if she bored him with the details of her research. That in itself is enough to make her continue.

Bellamy nods as she speaks, asking questions in the right places. He seems more interested than she would’ve expected, given how obvious it is that the subject is well outside his scope of knowledge. She tries not to allow it to endear him to her.

They order, and chat, and eat. He tells her about his sister, Octavia, and abashedly admits he wanted to be a historian when he was growing up. She laughs at that, and he doesn’t get angry. It’s shocking, given his reputation, his alpha-ness, but she’s really not afraid of him. No, Clarke feels regrettably at ease.

Of course, not enough that she wants to marry him. There are times, odd lulls in the conversation, where she can tell he’s holding something back. He’s a crime boss, a lord of the underworld she was born into, and there’s no escaping that. There’s no escaping that she wouldn’t have chosen him, if she’d been allowed a choice.

Clarke sees an opening. She wasn’t planning on asking so early in the year, and hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking him directly, but— he’s here, and he’s listening, and he seems interested.

“I was thinking,” Clarke broaches carefully, giving him a shy smile. Her hand inches across the table, coming to rest lightly beside her water glass. Every move is calculated, every glance and flutter of her eyelashes a glue trap waiting for him to get stuck. “Maybe I could continue my research. I know there’s no need for me to work, but I like it. And I really do think this could be useful to other people.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, and Clarke tries not to shiver as he slides his fingers across her palm. She’s got him, she thinks.

“Yeah. And grad school isn’t that long really, only a few years. Four, maybe five—”

His fingers wrap around her hand, squeezing slightly. “I’m sure something could be arranged.” Clarke’s heart leaps, success roaring through her chest. She beams at him. “I’m sure there are plenty of programs in New York.”

She freezes. “New York?”

“Of course,” Bellamy says, nodding. “I don’t expect my wife to just stay home all day, but we’ll have to make sure it’s a manageable commute.”

My wife.

He’s misunderstood her, possibly on purpose. “I—” she stutters, her throat thick as the wheels spin in her head. “I really like my advisor, actually. I was hoping to apply to the graduate program here.”

Bellamy frowns. “That won’t be possible, Clarke, you know that. Once we’re married, and mated—”

“We don’t have to be.” The words leave her in a rush, spilling out on top of his. Clarke gives him a weak smile. “Or— not yet, I mean.”

Bellamy’s expression is hard, his eyes burning. His hand clamps down around hers. “This advisor of yours, is he an alpha?”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Yes, but—”

“You expect me—” he continues darkly, “—to just leave my fiancée, my omega, unmated so she can spend more fucking years working with another alpha, smelling like that?”

She stiffens, insulted. She takes her suppressants everyday, and she still hasn’t even presented, technically. She doesn’t smell like anything. And she is not his omega. “It’s not like that. He’s not interested in me, nor I in him. And besides that, I’m on suppressants—”

“Not enough, clearly,” Bellamy sneers. Clarke glowers, attempting to wrench her hand back, but he holds fast. “I could smell you the second you walked in. Suppressants can’t keep your heat in check forever, princess. You were close, when I first met you, and it’s been five years. You really think they’ll last another six?”

He leans in closer. His fingers extend down her wrist, clasping around the scent glands there. Twisting, he turns her hand over, frowning at the bare spot on her fourth finger where a ring would sit. “I’m not a patient man, Clarke. I gave you your college years; don’t ask me for more.”

Bellamy drops her hand, and the conversation is over.

****

The rest of the dinner is awkward. They’re both enraged, but both too stubborn to admit it. She can smell it on him though, a sharp tang that makes her feel like she needs to hide, or show him her belly. She does neither, and her cutlery scraping over her plate is deafening in the silence that follows.

He drops her off at her apartment with nary a word. She’s not sure how he knows where to go.

The next day she goes to class as usual, and to the lab. She works with a sort of self-righteous fury that leaves her uncomfortably warm. Her advisor sends her uneasy looks but says nothing, keeping his distance after she snaps him when he points out she’s accidentally borrowed his lab coat. Her bodyguard is equally silent, his menacing presence in the corner of the lab a given at this point. Clarke doesn’t understand why her advisor keeps looking at him, too.

Bellamy is waiting at her apartment when she gets home. She stalks past him without a glance. “What do you want?”

“I have something for you,” he says, his voice husky. “Invite me in, and leave your dog at the door.”

Clarke glances at her bodyguard, who looks unmoved at the rude nickname. He nods slightly. Clarke huffs, and finishes unlocking the door. She doesn’t hold the door for Bellamy, but he follows her anyways.

“This is…charming.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, setting her bag on the breakfast bar. Her apartment is smaller than it needs to be, but still more luxurious than any normal college student would be able to afford. She wanted to blend in at least a little, but the security was non-negotiable.

She turns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well?”

“I wanted to—” he pauses, searching for a word, “—clear the air, before I go back to New York. The next time we see each other won’t be until the engagement party in December.”

Good, Clarke thinks, her nose in the air. Even that is too soon.

“The way I acted at dinner was… regrettable. I know this is an adjustment for both of us, and I shouldn’t have been so— forceful.”

She wishes he wouldn’t look at her like that. His eyes are so dark, pupils huge, and it makes funny things happen in her belly. She hates him, and his stupid alpha scent that she won’t be able to get out of her apartment for days.

“Have you changed your mind?” Clarke asks, expression carefully blank.

“No.”

Her heart sinks, but she does not allow herself to show it. “Fine.”

Bellamy steps closer, taking something from his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Clarke glances at the dark velvet box and flinches internally. She should’ve guessed.

She stands still as he invades her space, taking her hand. She can feel the satisfaction rolling off him as he slides the ring into place. Marking her as his. “There.”

Clarke pulls away, turning from him, and Bellamy goes still. His muscles tense, chest puffing, and his nostrils flare. She frowns. “What—?”

He tugs her towards him, sealing his body against hers. She can feel the growl that vibrates through his chest, the bump of his nose against her neck as he shoves his face into her hair. “I can smell him on you, omega.”

Clarke feels a hot rush of fear and— something else. Something that makes her panties damp, makes her ache for something inside her. For him.

“B-bellamy, wait, it’s just—” Her words cut off into a moan as his tongue slides down her neck, running over her scent glands. He marks her again, with his own scent this time, so there’s no mistaking who she belongs to.

Her omega purrs at the thought, but her conscious mind jerks back.

“Mine.”

No. She’s not his, not anyone’s. Not yet. For now, Clarke belongs to herself. She only has a year left of freedom. She will not submit to him before she must.

His smell though, is overwhelming. So strong, so good; it makes her reactions slow. Makes her head foggy. Makes her want— him. She arches her back, feeling the hard press of his cock against her ass. He grinds forward, fingers sliding over her stomach, over her thighs—

“Alpha, please—”

Bellamy freezes. Clarke whimpers as he peels himself off her, pushing her away, and feels bereft until she gets a whiff of clean air. Her eyes widen, and she backs away.

“Clarke—” He looks apologetic, but she doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust him.

She shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling slightly. “Go away.”

Bellamy holds up his hands, taking a big step back. “It’s fine, I won’t—” his teeth girt together, like he has to force the words out. “I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes are still black though, and she hears the word he doesn’t say. Yet.

“Just go.”

“I will, but Clarke— you have to call your mom. You can’t— your scent.”

“There is nothing wrong with my scent,” Clarke spits. Her whole body is hot, stomach cramping. She feels shaky, dizzy like she has a fever. Her panties are soaked, like she’s gotten her period. “It’s you. I don’t smell like anything, so it must be you.”

“It’s not,” Bellamy swears. He takes a half step forward. “Clarke—”

She can’t listen anymore. She turns tail and runs, locking herself in the bathroom. She sets the shower on cold and pops a couple of fever reducers for good measure, stripping off her clothes. There’s no blood on her underwear, of course. Just slick. More than she’s ever seen. Clarke’s throat closes.

She’s— she’s fine. She’s just sick. Bellamy will leave, and she’ll go to sleep, and when she wakes up everything will be back to normal. He’s just— imagining things. Being an alpha.

Alpha.

Clarke shivers, struck by the unrelenting need to open the door, to check if he’s still there. She gets all the way across the room, fully naked with one hand on the doorknob, before she catches herself. She throws herself into the cold shower.

It’s going to be fine, she thinks, shivering under the icy water. She feels just fine.

****

It’s not fine.

She feels so horny she can’t breathe, even after the shower. She stays under the water so long her lips turn blue, and even that isn’t enough to stop it.

By the time she gets out, Bellamy's gone. Clarke doesn't have a chance to be grateful. In his place, standing impatiently in her hallway is Abby, car keys in hand.

“Get dressed,” she orders her daughter, voice rife with irritation. “Let’s go.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat,” the doctor tells her mother once they arrive at the clinic. Nobody looks at Clarke where she sits flushed and sweaty on the exam table. She clenches her thighs together, wincing as the paper crinkles underneath her ass. It’s humiliating, sitting there in the hospital gown, her thighs dripping with slick. She’s not even fully in heat yet, not even close, but the fire in her belly is almost overwhelming. She can’t even imagine what a true heat will be like.

The room is cold, AC blasting in an attempt to keep her heat at bay, and it makes Clarke’s nipples prickle uncomfortably beneath the gown. The fabric feels rough on her skin. She wants to tear it off, needs to tear it off, but—

She crosses her ankles, squeezing her fists tight.

“Can you stop it?” Abby asks.

A doctor shrugs. She’s an alpha, Clarke can smell it despite the woman’s blockers, but just barely. Not like it was with Bellamy. Her hair is long and dark and shiny, hanging down in sheets over her white coat. “We can postpone it. For a time.”

Abby waves a hand. “Do it.”

Still, no one acknowledges Clarke. Not when they grab her arm, not when they inject her with the emergency suppressants.

“How long will they last?” Abby asks brusquely. Her eyes follow the needle, not bothering to check her daughter’s face.

“Three months, give or take. If you bring her back in next week, we can do some bloodwork to pin it down more precisely.”

“Yes, we’ll do that. We have an entire wedding to plan so it needs to be exact.” Abby sniffs at the inconvenience, like it’s Clarke’s fault she has to move up the wedding, and it’s not fair. Clarke didn’t ask to see Bellamy, and she sure as hell didn’t ask for him to skip his blockers and throw her into heat. Hell, she didn’t ask to be engaged to him in the first place.

“Of course.” The doctor nods like this is all fine, all normal. Like her patient’s life isn’t about to be uprooted, like she’s not going to be pulled out of college and married off like chattel. Like Clarke wants this. Or like it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t. “She’ll have to keep her distance from the groom until then. If his scent was enough to set her off now, then a second exposure before the marriage could result in—”

Clarke glares at the ring sparkling happily on her finger. She wonders if he did it on purpose, because she asked about grad school. If this is her punishment.

“I won’t do it,” Clarke says quietly. Two sets of eyes turn towards her, two sets of neatly plucked eyebrows arched questioningly. Her fists clench. “I won’t marry him.”

Her mother’s eyes flash, expression darkening. Clarke resists the urge to shrink back, to hide behind the exam table.

Abby’s annoyed gaze flicks to the doctor, who shrugs apologetically. “A side effect of the suppressants, most likely. They have a tendency to make omega patients a bit less”— she searches for a word here, hands waving dismissively—“pliant.”

Clarke flinches.

“The effects are temporary, of course, nothing to worry about,” the doctor continues. “But perhaps we should move this conversation to my office.”

The two older women exchange a meaningful look, moving towards the door without another word towards Clarke. She’s left alone, three months ticking down over her head like a pipe-bomb ready to blow. She could give in now, let it happen. Let it tear her life apart in one ugly explosion.

Instead, she starts to plan.

[halequeenjas]

Hell in a Gift Basket || Jasmine & Michael

TIMING: Yesterday afternoon PARTIES: @coldbloodedkaehler & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine goes by to see Michael with a bit of a welcome to town gift. She finds out a little more than she bargained for from the ghosts in the house.  CONTENT: Food poisoning mention

Despite the absolute insanity that was the town of White Crest, Jasmine was able to make a respectable living in the field of real estate. Even with the sky high levels of property damage in the town, she found she could still find clients willing to buy and sell in the area. A large part of her success was due to her own work ethic and determination. She’d always had good connections in town and she worked hard to nurture them and build new ones. Part of that entailed checking in on her customers. She had a whole system with birthday cards set up, but she was always sure to check in on a client soon after they moved into their new home, typically with a nice, branded house warming gift. After all, today’s condo sale or rental could be tomorrow’s house sale. It was why today she found herself checking in with one of her rental customers. Michael had recently moved to town with his family and she had the perfect little gift basket set up for them. There were some wine glasses with her logo on them, a bottle of red and a bottle of white, a nice wooden cutting board with her logo, and a lego set for the little one. She’d let him know she was stopping by so she was sure her knock on the door didn’t come as a surprise. When he opened, she smiled widely and greeted, “Hello, Mr. Kaehler!” She was a bright and cheery as ever as she entered the apartment. She took a glance around and commented, “I love what you’ve done with the place. How’s it been treating you so far?”

A semi-impromptu visit from his realtor had found its way to the bottom of Michael’s list of things to look forward to for the day, and he’d pressed the top of his mobile to his forehead when he’d read Jasmine Hale’s message and sighed deeply into it. A gaggle of forever bitching ghosts hanging around near 24/7 was enough intolerable company, but when up against the vultures in human skin who proudly called themselves members of the National Association of Realtors? He was sorely inclined to pick the dead any day of the week.

Heading down the hall to the front door as he heard the door rap, he ignored Ellie and Chase perched in his living room armchairs and watching him keenly, drowned rat and slit throat respectively arousing not an ounce of alarm. Pulling open the front door, he smiled as he stepped aside to let the woman in, letting it widen as he took in her compliment. “A damn sight better than our old place back in Sedona, I’ll tell you that much,” he replied with half a laugh, crossing his arms and shaking his head at the mere falsified memory of it. The old place back in Sedona had done just fine by them all, but lying came as fluidly to Michael as mercury. His eyes flicked down to the basket, bundled in the realtor’s arms. Ms. Hale could feel pleased with herself in return for whatever garbage in the guise of a gift she was about to set upon him.

“In any case,” he quickly added, “come in, make yourself comfortable.” He smiled, gesturing for her to head into the living room. “The wife’s at work and the girls are back at school, so you pulled the short straw and just ended up with me.” Meanwhile, Ellie was craning her neck from the couch to get a gander at the gift basket. “What’d she get him?” he could hear her ask Chase. Death couldn’t get a good snoop down, and Michael didn’t even blink to acknowledge he’d heard her. Continuing on his way to the kitchen, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I was just about to make myself a coffee. Should I get another mug out?”

One thing Jasmine learned over her career was just how much better homes looked once they were filled. Even if the decor wasn’t quite up to her tastes, it had a home-y feel to it. She could easily picture Michael’s girls running around or his wife enjoying a glass of wine on the couch. With an easy smile, she responded, “That’s great to hear. Glad it’s working so well for you and your family. I do pride myself on finding good fits for my clients.” And ridding them of any ghosts which was why the slight chill going through her threw her off. No, it couldn’t be. She was just still on edge after Constance’s exorcism. That was all. 

When he mentioned it was just them, Jasmine nodded along and said, “Well, there’s some stuff in here they may enjoy, too.” Then she heard voices and it sounded like they were asking about what she’d brought. Michael had just said they were alone so that couldn’t be right, but in this town, she knew better than to doubt her sense at this point. “Oh, funny. I thought I heard someone. Must be the TV or something,” she blurted out quickly as she craned her neck to get a good look around. It dawned on her she didn’t want to look like an insane person in front of her client, so she returned her focus back to him though she still had that nagging feeling they weren’t alone. Maybe she could sneakily place some wards up before she left. “A mug would be great,” she added, “It’s definitely a day that calls for lots of coffee.” She followed him in toward the living area and her eyes landed on the ghosts. Shit. She needed a way to get Michael away so she could talk to the ghosts she’d heard only a moment ago. “So have you met the neighbors yet? And have you been leaving the faucets dripping with the freeze warning?” Not smooth and very unrelated, but she needed a moment alone here. 

 There was a sudden… shift in the woman, and Michael didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t stop the slightly perplexed look that crept on him as Jasmine mentioned hearing someone, and for a moment, his heart stumbled out of step before he immediately quashed the feeling. The tell-tale heart would fall deaf on his ears. “Must be,” he agreed, the pause before his answer taking perhaps a little too long. Of course it was the TV – what other options were there?

Entering into the living room with the realtor close behind, it was just as expected. There were no blood curdling screams – no quick dashes to the front door that would necessitate a violent, unplanned end on an otherwise unremarkable afternoon in Maine. All was as it should be – the two clearly dead ghosts were visible to no one but the man who had snuffed out their lives like a match. He shook his head at Jasmine’s question about the neighbours, shrugging. “Not yet,” he replied. “Work’s just been throwing me some weird hours to begin with. We’ll invite them all over sometime, make sure they know they can rely on us, that kind of thing. Not that we’re planning on renting forever,” he added with a smile. He paused for a second as he thought about the taps – faucets – as his wife and everyone else in this country called them. It was a good point. “You know what?” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them together. “I’d better go take care of that now before I forget. Been awhile since I lived any place where you have to look out for these things. I’ll be back with the coffees in a minute.” Already on his way out, he glanced behind him before disappearing from view. “You take milk and sugar?”

Meanwhile, on the couch, two pairs of eyes watched the realtor curiously. It was Chase who spoke first, the flaps of his severed neck jiggling as he spoke. “Hey El? Did you just see this lady just look at us? Almost as if we’re actually… here.”

 There was a small sense of relief that washed over Jasmine as he agreed he did in fact need to go get those faucets going to avoid frozen pipes. The ghosts in the room needed to be addressed and she needed to do that without someone else present in the room who would just think she was some sort of psycho talking to herself. “Good call,” she said as nonchalantly as she could given the circumstances, “Black coffee is fine for me.” Healthier than typical cream and sugar as well as being much less complex than her normal coffee shop order. Once he was out of the room, her eyes fell back on the ghosts who were still just chatting it up. 

“That’s because I can see you,” Jasmine responded to the ghosts in the room, “Which means you must be El… and you are?” She looked at the other ghost as she tried to keep this formidable. Working with ghosts required a fair amount of understanding as things worked out much easier for her if they moved on without her intervention. Still, it was odd they were just hanging around here. They definitely weren’t at the property before so she had to wonder if they were connected to Michael somehow. She placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Do you care to tell me why you’re here? I checked this place up and down for ghosts before I even showed the property.” 

 If ghosts could be struck by lightning, then it was as if the pair had just been zapped stone cold the second the realtor revealed she could see them. Twin expressions gaped at the woman, instantly scrubbed of any previous candour. Ellie’s hand tucked around Chase’s beside her and she squeezed it tightly whilst the other flew to her empty chest. It was the teen boy who actually had the wherewithal to speak, and fury stained his features as he quickly rose to his feet, jerking Ellie up beside him. “Because that guy killed us!” he blurted as he gained the wherewithal to speak. “He’s a fucking serial killer!” Wide-eyed, he quickly realised he was speaking much too loud and he sunk down back onto the couch with Ellie in tow. “Chase,” he replied to the woman’s first question, voice still crackling with shock. “My name is Chase Dunlap. This,” he gestured towards Ellie beside him, “– she’s Elizabeth Matarazzo.” The female ghost beside him gave a light shake of her head as she leant forward. “Ellie,” she mouthed, nodding and scrunching her face in a small giddy smile as she squeezed Chase’s hand again. He ignored her. “How the fuck can you see us too? Are… you like him?” he enquired, speaking slowly. “You kill people? Are you a murderer?”

No sooner than the question was out of his mouth did footsteps return to the kitchen just on the other side of the living room. The clatter of mugs filled the air and no more than a few moments later Michael came back through the door, two steaming cups of joe in hand. Setting Jasmine’s down on the coffee table, he nursed his own. “Faucets are now safely dripping away,” he informed the realtor with a smile. “Oh, and thanks for the gift basket, by the way,” he added as he took a sip of his coffee. “You bring out the welcome wagon for all your clients? Or just the ones from out of town?”

Almost immediately, Jasmine wanted to be anywhere else but this living room. How the hell had she ended up alone with an actual serial killer? He’d seemed so normal and not at all like the random bone lady on the internet. Then again, this was White Crest and things were hardly ever what they appeared to be at a surface level. It didn’t change the fact her heart was pounding against her chest. She took a few steps back from the ghosts and quietly muttered, “He what?!” Her palms felt entirely too sweaty and she found she couldn’t stand still. She needed an exit strategy here. She still had her bag on her and the iron rods could come in handy, but she’d come back to that. If she could get more information from these two, maybe she could actually do something to help. “Chase and Ellie. I’d say good to meet you but…” She trailed off before the next question hit her. Her face twisted up with disgust as they implied she was a murderer. “Excuse you,” she retorted with the offense evident in her voice, “I’m an exorcist not a murderer. I save people, not kill them. The only red shoe bottoms I want are Louboutins thank you very much.” 

With the revelation that her client was a serial killer, she’d been too focused on the ghosts. Michael re-entering the room startled her and she jumped a bit on her feet. “Michael, hey!” Smooth, Jas, smooth. She did her best to recover and put some distance between herself and the ghosts. The smile on her face was almost convincing. “Good, frozen pipes can be quite the expensive and lengthy repair,” she explained. At the mention of the gift basket, she answered, “Oh, I usually like to do something for new clients around the holidays. Especially if they’re new to town. Plus, I’m a sucker for kids so you know, I had to give them a little something.” She glanced back at the ghosts before mentally cursing herself. “I totally don’t mean to interrupt your day though, so I’d be happy to take my coffee to go!” 

 Michael’s hand instinctively tightened around the steaming mug of coffee as he watched Jasmine, listening to her carefully. There it was again. That shift. He was practiced enough to detect when a smile wasn’t quite a smile, and the realtor’s was almost Stepford-esque. But why? His gaze slipped to Ellie and Chase, noticing for the first time that they were staring at him like they’d seen a ghost, but when Jasmine prattled on about taking the coffee to go his attention instantly went back to her. Something, he felt, was off here. Wrong, and he was someone who preferred things to be right at all times. “It’s no interruption,” he said evenly, shaking his head. “Besides, don’t have any take-out cups handy. Trying to cut down on waste, you know. Save the trees and all.” Another sip of coffee. Another swallow. “Though if you’ve got somewhere to be, then…”

As he trailed off, it wasn’t Jasmine who had the first opportunity to talk. Silent though the ghosts had been since Michael came back into the room, it was Ellie who chose now to speak up, her face knitted in puzzlement as if she’d just spent the last minute thinkingly deeply about something. “By exorcist…” she began, “doesn’t that mean you kill ghosts? Doesn’t that make you a murderer, too?”

 This was hardly her best performance. Then again, this wasn’t karaoke. Jasmine had never been good at lying and typically saw little point in it. Seeing as she was with a serial killer who had no idea she’d just found out as much, it was better for her to keep a level head here unless she wanted to become his next victim. “Oh good,” she said with some faux cheer, “I know a lot of times people just offer coffee when people stop by for the sake of being polite.” She laughed along with the mention of reducing waste. While she had no qualms with recycling, this was definitely a moment where she was hating the whole green movement. “Being environmentally conscious is always a good thing. I always do my best to recycle myself and you know, not litter. I love the beaches far too much to leave them littered with my leftover hard seltzers.” She took a sip of her coffee and tried to shake the thought it could be deadly coffee. “Not at all,” she responded letting some of the apprehension slip away. “How are you liking it here so far?” 

All was going back to how it should be until Ellie was speaking again. Without realizing it, she shot Ellie a dirty look with an eye roll, “I don’t kill ghosts that’s not how that-” Shit. That was decidedly the absolute worst thing she could have done in that moment. She turned back to Michael with an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me there. I think I must be a little under the weather. I really should go. Just in case I’m coming down with something contagious.” 

 Everything Jasmine was saying was going through one ear and out the other – not even because of the situation at hand, but because Michael really couldn’t care less. He feigned interest, nodding as he pretended to listen to her. Really he was searching her face, trying to pick up on any more cues that she was ill at ease, and when she indicated she had no issue with staying it began to seem as if it were all in his head. Before he got the chance to reply with his thoughts on the town, Ellie interrupted. And for once, it didn’t seem like she was talking to him or even Chase. It was like she was talking to Jasmine.

Michael tensed and then there the realtor was, shooting Ellie a look and responding like she was any old person in the room with them. He no longer felt the heat of the mug, couldn’t taste the bitter aftertaste of the coffee on his tongue. His heart quickened in his chest and his eyes didn’t even need to dart to the lamp on the lounge-side table beside him. He saw it clear as day in his head, saw himself grabbing it, pummelling her face in, tightening the chord around her neck as her feet kicked uselessly into the carpet. If she really could hear the dead, what had they told her? How the fuck was it even possible? But then, maybe he was getting too ahead of himself. Needed some time to think about how far ahead of himself he was getting, at least. He set his coffee down. If there was an issue, he knew how to take care of it. And even if there wasn’t? He could take preventative measures to put his mind at ease. “Should I ask?” he joked. Offering out his hand to take the coffee from her, he smiled reassuringly to make it seem like he wasn’t too weirded out. “No problem,” he said. “Maybe another time? With Risa, I’m sure she’ll want to thank you. Alcohol always comes appreciated in this house, far as she’s concerned.”

Though she kept her face as neutral as she could, Jasmine couldn’t control the way her heartbeat picked up considerably after her slip of words. Her eyes remained fixed on Michael. Based on context clues, she had the feeling he also knew the ghosts were in the room. If he figured she knew something, she didn’t want to chance that she was the next ghost occupying his living room. She reminded herself to take deep breaths and not get too carried away. Then his joking tone came out and she felt herself relax slightly though she was still on high alert. “Probably not,” she said with a nervous chuckle. Then he was mentioning his wife and she wondered if she knew about all of this. The thought alone made her stomach churn, but she smiled brightly anyway. “Of course. That’d be lovely. I do hope she enjoys the wine. I’ll catch you and Risa again soon.” As she left, she was still looking behind her every few steps to make sure she wasn’t followed. All she knew was that she needed to be far away from here before she decided what she was supposed to do with this newfound information about a serial killer in town.

[arrivalation]

2020: An Account

This year has been a nonstop, off-the-rails bullet train ride into what looked at first like chaos, but ultimately was a tearing down and reconstruction of my entire being. Because I know myself and I know I won’t remember much of this later, I’m recording it here. It’s hard to put some of this information out, but the universe regularly urges me to be more open. So here I go.

January

I got married.

It was, without contest, the absolute best day of my life. I’ve known since I was real little that I wanted to be married, that I wanted to be loved the way M loves me and to love someone just as much. I don’t know how to explain the feeling of having achieved that, and being able to share that with my entire circle. @abyssalsun​ made it down!! (my only regret is that @ladyoriza​ couldn’t make it, but I’m still so glad we got to make it to theirs). As often as I can, I revisit the memory of going to @chromecutie​’s house afterward, thinking it’d just be the four of us there, and opening the door to find a whole impromptu surprise party happening. Everyone cheered for us when we came in. I played CAH with Mordred, my brother and his wife, and several friends from out of town. By all accounts, these people would never have been in the same room together, but they were, and it was transcendent. It’s been almost a year, and I still haven’t recovered from all the planning and stress; but now that I’m past it, I can say with relief that it was 100% worth it.

February

We bought a house.

Up until this point, I’d been planning a wedding, participating in house-buying stuff as best I could, interviewing for a job I ended up not taking, and dealing with life-long mental illness that was festering and reaching critical mass. But then stuff started wrapping up. The wedding happened. The house was ours. We moved in. I could finally fucking breathe. LMAO bitch you thought.

March

The pandemic reached us.

I guess by this point it had probably already been in the US for a couple months, idr. But it wasn’t until March that things really started happening. People started dying in droves. New cases spread like wildfire. I remember thinking that this would be the zombie apocalypse, because at this point, I don’t think the CDC knew much about the virus. In my anxious mind, that was a completely reasonable assumption. My boss had us all start working from home. We all thought it’d be just a couple weeks.

April

I settled into working from home.

It didn’t take me long to get used to it, maybe a week. I hadn’t yet gotten used to my new hour-long commute from the new house to work, and so working from home quickly became my new normal. But I didn’t know yet why working from home was so good for me. All I knew was that I now had the brain-space to process things. I had the energy to do yoga and cook and do hobbies, and the time to appreciate and care for the home I lived in. I could think more clearly because there was no one else around to distract me. There was sunlight I could bask in. I felt human for once, and that became vitally important and infinitely valuable to me. Despite that, I still struggled with extreme anxiety, panic attacks, and some of the worst depression I’ve suffered through since I was a teenager. Outside my house, everything was a fucking mess and no one had their shit together.

May

I went back to the office for a few weeks.

There was a lull in pandemic activity. My boss had us all start coming back to the office again. At this point, I couldn’t make heads or tails of reality anymore. Everything was changing, nothing was stable. I desperately needed to stay working from home, because that was the one thing that felt Good and Right, but I had no real argument other than, 'I just need to.' So imagine me, at this point a soggy, run-over sloppy joe, attempting to return to normal. As you might think, it was... bad. I cried and hurt all the time. I think I really freaked out my boss with the way I reacted to coming back to the office. But then the second wave hit, and we all went back to working from home again.

June

Uncle Mike died on the first day of the month.

My uncle had been sick for a while, but no one was expecting him to die so suddenly. None of us were ready for it.

I also died that day.

It might sound dramatic, but I mean it quite literally and honestly. Over the years, I had gained suspicion that I was on the autism spectrum. M graciously found me a psychiatrist that took my insurance (and happened to be right next door). I wasn’t even going in for that - I was seeking treatment for my anxiety and depression. But I had amassed a (very long) list of my symptoms, and I brought it with me and read it to my doctor. I wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the list when he stopped me. I’m paraphrasing here, but in effect, he said, “No, yeah, you’re definitely autistic.”

I remember the way my body felt. Like someone had detonated a bundle of TNT in my chest, and I was burning from the inside out. At the time, I didn’t realize this emotional immolation was purposeful and executed by the universe to get rid of this old structure and build a newer, better, stronger one. For about fifteen seconds after he said that, I was relieved that it had been that easy, that there was an explanation for everything that my ADHD didn’t explain. It made a ton of sense why my environment was so important to me. And then I felt something unnameable. It was obvious to my doctor that I was autistic. Had it been obvious to everyone else? Why hadn’t it been obvious to me? I read the rest of my symptoms to him in a daze. I don’t remember how the rest of the appointment went.

And then I burned quietly and ungracefully until I was a pile of ashes. I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently it’s common for newly-diagnosed autistic people to have such dramatic and painful reactions, especially if they weren’t well-informed on the condition. Which I wasn’t.

I started therapy.

I also started learning about my “flavor” of autism. It was arduous, embarrassing, isolating, and ugly. I became aware that I had been masking my whole life, and I was astounded by just how often I did so. What really crushed me was knowing that I’d always have to mask to protect myself. I also became hyper-aware of the things that made me Feel Bad. Inexplicably, I stopped being able to react to those things the way I used to. Previously, if something made a loud and unexpected sound, I would suppress my reaction, because it’s not cool to get mad about it. But I found I couldn’t do that anymore. I had no choice but to react the way I needed to react. I realize now that this was to make me aware of what things make me feel a certain way so I can either avoid them or learn better tools to deal with them.

The therapist I saw wasn’t specialized in autism, and she wasn’t any help in that area, but she did teach me some important things. Like, “Is it reasonable for me to feel ____?”

July

Black hole.

I don’t remember a whole lot from this month, except sifting my own ashes through my fingers and crying. Every day brought a new revelation, a new thing that clicked. All of it was helpful and very painful. My psychiatrist recommended medication, but I’d had a bad and long-lasting experience with medication as a teenager, so I suffered through the pain on my own.

I shouldn’t have. I got so low I didn’t want to be alive anymore. But I think it took reaching the bottom and feeling that much pain for me to get over my fear of pharmaceuticals. 

I got into astrology.

I had been interested in it for most of my life, but it wasn’t until this point that I started studying it in depth. I discovered it was a language that I could use to translate so many things about my own life that I didn’t understand. It was a rulebook in a time when I desperately needed rules - but one just flexible enough that it taught me how to stop thinking in binary.

August

I got medicated.

There was a big adjustment period, of course. It didn’t cure me. But it did start to make things easier. And it helped to know that, even if I didn’t believe it at the time, I deserved to rest. I deserved not to feel so much emotional pain all the time.

I turned 30.

It was easily the second best day of my life. I learned a lot of important things, like that it’s important to be present, that I’m seen and loved (just the way I am!!), and that I deserve good things. M planned a whole day of surprises:

I woke up at my leisure and we had coffee on the couch. He got me a cute card with one of our inside jokes inside - I still have it.

We went to our favorite combination lunch place and bakery, which I believe was our first real outing since the pandemic started.

We stopped by a tattoo place. I almost got a tattoo.

He set me loose in Texas Art Supply.

We got dim sum for dinner.

We had a lovely virtual cocktail hour with @chromecutie.

He bought me an ipad!!

I became Spiritual™.

I had been agnostic for the past decade or so, slowly and subtly slipping into nihilism, without realizing how detrimental those ideas were to me. I’m not sure what I thought spirituality was before, but I wasn’t into it. I had always rolled my eyes at people who talked about “a higher power”, auras, and spirit guides, until I became that person.

My psychiatrist introduced some powerful ideas to me, ones that meshed well with my previously-existing idea of how the universe worked. I won’t get into details here. That’s a whole other post. Ask me though - I’d love to talk about it.

Anyway, I started (intermittently) meditating. I learned some exceptionally powerful stuff. I felt my scaffolding being erected.

September

I started learning who I am and why I am this way.

I started seeing a new therapist. She thinks like me. She follows my erratic, forking trains of thought. She sees me and offers real, actionable feedback and solutions. Working with her, I’ve gained the ability to see my life from a 30,000-foot view. I can see now why I’ve felt so lonely my whole life. I understand how my family’s dysfunction has shaped me. I know now that I have the opposite of a victim complex - by default, I believe I am so awful that I feel sorry for everyone who has to deal with me. Because that’s what I was taught to believe. Learning that I deserve to take up space, set boundaries, say no, and be wrong sometimes is still a hard lesson for me. But most days, I believe it now. It takes other people believing it and convincing me. I still need that reassurance often.

My parents sold my childhood home.

Mentally, emotionally, I still lived there. I was still the inverted victim, still beholden to my stepdad’s whims and my mom’s complete cognitive dissonance. This was a blinking neon sign from the universe that it was time to move out. My mom told me when the closing date was so I’d have time to drive down and look at the house one last time. I didn’t go, and I still don’t regret it.

I started learning my boundaries.

After my spiritual move-out, I learned I don’t have to jump when my stepdad holds out the little circus hoop. When he otherwise shows zero interest in my life but still baits me with passive-aggressive texts, I don’t have to answer!! What a concept! I don’t have to feel guilty for not talking to my mom more than I do. We have very little in common, and I still have a lot of things to work through regarding her.

I learned how not to be so reactive.

Or rather, I’m still learning. Something else I learned in therapy is that over the course of my life, I’ve developed a desperate need to defend myself and to justify every action or thought I have, even to myself. It’d been especially troubling at work. My RSD led me to felt stupid, incompetent, and unseen daily; if my boss complimented someone, I believed it also meant he thought I was stupid and bad and wrong, otherwise he would have complimented me too. If my boss said something that even remotely sounded like I’d done something wrong, I’d race to build an impenetrable defense: “This is the reason I did that. Here’s my line of thinking. Do you understand? Can you please understand?”

Now I know that so little of what everything everyone says or does at work is about me. I can appreciate a coworker’s accomplishment and also realize it doesn’t take away anything from me. I’m not stupid or incompetent, and I’m a valuable part of the team. A lot of times, my boss and I are on two different wavelengths - that’s because I think a lot faster, which can be frustrating for him sometimes. He doesn’t fully understand me, but that doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong.

October

I let go of an old friend.

This was especially hard, because I had known this person for years. We’d gone through a lot together, and we’d shared some really important and emotional story plots and characters. I had agonized over whether I was truly important to her or not. It didn’t matter how much I loved her as a friend, or how badly I wanted us to be close again and remain close. I had learned to read the universe’s signs, and it was clear it was time to move on.

November

The election happened.

I was expecting things to turn out badly, but I still hoped for something good. And then something good did happen. I cried watching Harris’ speech. I felt a tenuous hope that things might finally start looking up, societally. I still haven’t really let myself fully embrace that hope, but every time I see a court shoot down another lawsuit, or hear about trump’s own conservative republican supporters tell him, “Okay, buddy, it’s time to step down,” I feel a little better. 

M and I went non-monogamous.

There’s so much I want to say about this, but it’s for another post. Suffice it to say that like every other experience this year, it has been unexpectedly challenging and ultimately a catalyst for  priceless growth. I’m unfathomably grateful that we’re doing this together, for the things we’ve learned so far, and for how much closer this experience has made us, even when I didn’t think we could get any closer. 

Turns out I’m not gray-ace.

I had identified as such for a couple years, which was why we wanted to try non-monogamy in the first place. On the surface, it perfectly explained my sexual personality. But every time I told someone my identity, I felt inexplicably sad. When I read about others having “normal” sex drives and “normal” relations with their spouses, I felt jealous.

Turns out I’m just traumatized, lol. Walking along this non-mono path has unearthed a lot of things, including this gem.

December

This was our first married christmas in our new house.

One of the handful of good things the pandemic has done for me was allowing me to back up my boundaries with hard evidence. It’s been difficult dealing with my stepdad bullying me about not coming over for thanksgiving, and having my mom subtly guilt me into making plans for next year already. But what I needed this year was a quiet holiday, instead of the usual weeks-long chaos, and I got it. And it was fucking delightful. I’ve dreamed of days exactly like that one - spending a tranquil morning with my spouse, sipping coffee and listening to music and eating treats. Deciding exactly how we want our holidays to be, because we deserve to.

I’m scared of what’s to come in the new year. I’m still an anxious mess, and some days I’m not strong enough to pull myself out of the spirals I throw myself into. I’ve gotten used to the pandemic holding my hand, allowing me to shelter in my home, helping me enforce my boundaries, teaching me who I am. When it’s over, I don’t know what will happen or how I’ll react or what I’ll learn next. I’m not finished rebuilding, but I don’t think that’s the point. I’ll never be fully rebuilt. But at least I’m figuring out the new layout.

[cynicalrainbows]

The Next Best Thing Chapter 10

Next chapter!

Comments always very welcome and encouraged please!

(And Cathy will mellow towards Anna soon, I promise! Just...y’know, friendship politics are complex when you’re 7.)

Just as Cathy suspected, they hear all about the sleepovers Anna has been on with her friends back in Germany: Greta, who has a swimming pool in the garden that a hedgehog drowned in, and Greta’s Vati had to get it out with a stick, and Hedda, who’s Mutti let them make chocolate crispy cakes for supper, and Sofie, who has an older brother called Mortiz who let them stay in the room while he watched a scary, scary film about a clown that lived in the drain (until Sofie’s Mutti saw what they were watching and gave them popsicles in exchange for promising not to tell their own parents).

It all sounds amazing, except that nothing like that will happen at Anne’s sleepover, Cathy knows.

Anne’s family doesn’t have a pool. Also, Anne’s Mum doesn’t let them in the kitchen (Jane lets Anne bake with her sometimes but the sleepover isn’t at Jane’s house, so that’s no good), and although Anne has an older brother (called George), he doesn’t live with them.

(George lives in London. Cathy has never seen him but she knows that he goes to the Royal College of Art, which is like a school you go to when you’re grown up.

It sounded quite exciting when he first went because it sounded like he was going to paint pictures for a king or a queen, and she and Anne wondered if maybe they’d get to visit him and meet a prince or a princess….but it’s actually nothing like that at all.

Not only does George not paint pictures for anyone even a little bit royal, he doesn’t paint pictures at all.

 Instead, he makes sculptures, which are like people made of clay, except Anne hasn’t seen any of them apart from a picture of one she saw by accident that George had sent in a letter.  Anne said that the clay person didn’t have any clothes on at all, but that she didn’t really see it properly because her Dad saw she was looking at it and snatched it away and made her go up to her room.

She and Cathy giggled all day at the thought of George spending all his time in London making things like that (it’s more evidence that grown ups are really very strange) but Anne’s Mum and Dad don’t find it funny at all, Anne says.

They do lots of cross sighing about waste of money and terrible life choices and utterly obscene whenever Jane asks about him or when he sends them a Christmas card.

 The cards always have pictures that aren’t in the LEAST bit Christmassy on them- once, there was just a photo of a dead cow in a tank- and Anne’s mum and Dad sighed and shook their heads and then put the card in a drawer. 

Once, Anne snuck one out for Jane to read to her because George’s handwriting is too scrawly-small for her to decipher.

 Happy Holidays and all that jazz to little sis, don’t let them grind you down, and tell Janey thanks for her ceaseless efforts to try and smooth stuff over, stay cool x

She thinks Jane left some bits out because the card was full of writing, written all smudgy like the pen has been pressed too hard into the page, that would have surely meant more words. 

But Jane just says the rest is grown up stuff that she shouldn’t worry about.

George hasn’t sent a card for a while though. So chances of him being around to let them watch a scary clown film are low.)

It makes Cathy worried that the lack of older-brothers-with-scary-films and/or swimming pools is going to make Anna turn up her nose at Anne’s sleepover- but she seems just as excited as they are when they’re talking about it.

She shows them both where she’s made a little tally of days to tick off until Saturday in her News book (because the sleepover is sort of like news- it’s news-before-it-happens) and after a while, Cathy gets caught up enough in planning the pillow fortress they’ll make that she stops thinking about how annoying it is that Anna talks about Germany All. The. Time. and thinks about how much fun it will be instead.

Because it will be fun.

Even if Anna is there.

Or maybe because Anna will be there because annoyingly….Anna does have some good ideas.

Sometimes.

And as much as she doesn’t want to, as much as she wants to just hope that Anna goes back to Germany one day soon (or at least to another school)...she actually finds that sometimes, she’s really glad Anna is at their school and not at another.

It’s Anna, after all, who has the idea of excavating the big bit of rock that’s sticking half way out of the school field to see if it’s a dinosaur bone that they’ll be able to sell to a museum for lots of money.

(They don’t get very far, because they have to use twigs instead of proper little trowels and brushes but it’s still exciting to think that maybe that IS what it is and to talk about what it would be like to be famous.)

And it’s Anna who teaches the whole class ‘Feur, Wasser, Blitz, Sturm’ which they get to play instead of normal P.E, and they spend the hour flinging themselves flat to avoid the ‘feur’ (which means ‘fire’) and scrambling up the climbing ropes to escape the ‘wasser’ (which is water), and Cathy thinks it’s a thousand times more fun than having to demonstrate again and again that no matter how hard she tries, she cannot do a cartwheel OR stand on her head for the hundredth time.

So.

Having Anna at the school isn’t ALL bad.

Still, it���s very confusing, and Catalina, for once, is no help at all.

She is in fact annoyingly insistent on telling her that she is to always be ‘nice’ to Anna, and she reminds her lots of times that while she doesn’t have to play with Anna if she doesn’t want to, she is absolutely not allowed to stop Anne from playing with her or from ever discouraging Anna from playing with Anne and I mean it, mija.

She actually looks quite stern and serious when she says it, and it’s a bit uncomfortable to have Catalina look at her like that, so she promises that she won’t.

Still.

It is very confusing.

*

The days drag until the weekend but eventually, Saturday comes.

She’s so excited she can’t finish her breakfast, so excited that she can barely sit still.

(She’s going to a sleepover like a- well, not a grown up but like one of the older girls at school, like one of the characters on television. It’s breathtakingly thrilling.)

Catalina walks her to Anne’s parents house and reminds her about brushing her teeth and saying please and thank you, then hugs her so tightly that she nearly can’t breathe.

‘It’s going to be strange not having you in the flat tonight, mija.’

Cathy thinks that’s a funny thing to say when not all that long ago she was never in the flat at all- but before she can say it, she realises she sort of understands what Catalina means. 

It’s exciting because she’s going to stay at Anne’s house ALL night….but also, she realises now….that means she’s not going to be sleeping in her own room.

The thought of sleeping somewhere else- now that she’s thinking about it- is strange. 

Not bad exactly, but...different, and she realises that her bedroom in the flat has become her room rather than her-room-at-Catalina’s-flat without her even noticing it. 

She wonders, if she was to sleep in the bedroom of her old house now, whether that would feel like going home or whether it would feel strange. 

She wonders if somehow, by some bit of magic or maybe a genie, she was able to sleep in her old bedroom and have everything back to how it was- Mum and Dad in their room down the hall and all her old books, the copies that Catalina didn’t buy back for her, and the clothes that didn’t fit anymore and that got left behind when she was having to pack her things and the toy farm that she didn’t really play with anymore but that she missed the shape of all the same….she wonders if it would feel normal.

Would it feel normal or would she find herself missing Catalina kissing her goodnight and making sure to close the curtains so that there isn’t even the tiniest gap that a scary face could peep through?

 (Catalina once asked her what constitutes a scary face.

 ‘Like a monster, mija?’

 She said no because monsters aren’t real obviously but that not being real doesn’t also mean that they couldn’t look through her window if they wanted to and that monster or not, any face looking through her curtains in the dark would be a scary face.

Catalina nodded and said that since the flat is on the fifth floor, she can see how anything at all looking through her window could be rather disconcerting and that she will make sure to always shut her curtains specially tight to keep out any and all mysterious faces.

She likes that Catalina never tries to use adult explanations to make her not be scared of things, she never tells her that she’s being wrong or silly, even when she knows it is, a bit.)

‘Will you miss me?’

(She wonders suddenly if Catalina will enjoy having the flat back to how it was, if it will make her miss not Cathy but her old life.)

But Catalina nods emphatically before the worry has really had a chance to take hold.

‘Of course, querida. But you shall have such a wonderful time and tell me all about it tomorrow, yes?’

She nods.

‘And you’ll be able to give Anne her birthday present too.’

(She refused to make a card for Anne- although she normally would: card making still makes her feel a bit sick. But she’s proud of how fancy her writing inside the shop brought card looks- all in joined up writing and written with Catalina’s special expensive heavy fountain pen. And she’s proud of the wrapping paper- green with little red dinosaurs all over it- and of the green ribbon it’s tied up with (and of how she managed to curl the ends with scissors all by herself) and she’s most proud of the present itself.

It’s hard picking out presents for Anne, just because she gets new toys a LOT. 

(Kitty does too but she often doesn’t play with them because according to Kitty, Pink Kitty would be sad. For some reason, she prefers hunching up in the playhouse Jane made her out of a fridge box with Pink Kitty to riding in her tiny pink electric car. 

Neither Cathy nor Anne can understand this.)

Anne doesn’t have loyalties like that- she likes getting new things. 

Not just for her birthday or Christmas- last year, Anne got a big new dollhouse for no reason at all and it was the best surprise ever because it just turned up one day in the playroom without a word being said. 

It did spoil it just a tiny bit that getting the dollhouse meant she didn’t get anything for her birthday a week later (because apparently only very greedy little girls would have expected another present after getting the dolls house, according to Anne’s mum) but the dollhouse itself was still excellent, with its lights that turned on and off and all the furniture that matched.

It does make it hard to choose presents for Anne though, because she has so much stuff.

Still. She’s very proud of this present.

They’re standing on the doorstep for all of this, and they haven’t knocked yet, so it’s a surprise when the door opens right up and Catalina gives a very little scream and puts her hand to her chest.

‘Catalina! And Cathy! How are you both?’

Jane is standing in front of them, smiling delightedly, and there’s a small pink Kitty-sized figure holding onto her hand. 

Cathy waves at her and Kitty hides her face in Jane’s skirt.

‘Anne will be so happy you’re here, Cathy! And-’ Jane lowers her voice slightly, turning to Catalina. ‘It’s so good to be able to say thank you again. For-….’

‘Oh it was nothing-’ Catalina waves her hand, and with it, waves away all the scariness from last week. ‘No trouble at all.’ She cranes her neck a little to look behind Jane. ‘Hello, Kitty.’

Kitty presses herself further into Jane, whimpering until Jane picks her up.

‘Can you hello nicely to Catalina, Kitty-Kat?’

It does not seem, from the lack of response, like she can.

‘She isn’t scary!’ Cathy adds earnestly. She’s trying to be helpful but both Jane and Catalina smile as if she’s said something funny, and then Jane’s smile fades.

‘Sorry, she’s just going through a-’

‘It’s completely fine-’ 

‘Strangers are just-’

‘Honestly, don’t worry-’

‘We’re working on it-’

While they’re talking, Kitty risks peeking out at them all- and then stares, transfixed.

After a moment, they all follow her gaze- to the necklace Catalina is wearing. It’s a little silver tiger on a chain- one of Cathy’s favourites and she can see immediately why Kitty is taken with it too.

‘Do you like it, Kitty?’

Kitty flinches back at Catalina talking to her directly- but then pauses before burying her face in Jane’s neck again, as if she’s weighed up her options and chosen to keep looking at this new and wonderful thing.

She nods solemnly, not taking her eyes off it.

‘Would you like to hold it?’

She nods again.

‘You don’t have to-’ Jane interrupts. ‘It’s kind of you to offer but please don’t feel like you have to- We can look with our eyes not our hands, sweetheart.’

‘Oh it’s alright, it wasn’t at all expensive.’ Catalina unclasps the necklace and takes it from around her neck. ‘And I’m sure Kitty will be very, very gentle.’ She pauses. ‘Won’t you?’

There’s a little pause- and Cathy wonders if Kitty has exhausted her communicative powers for the day, maybe she isn’t even going to nod anymore. 

Then- ‘Yes’ Kitty replies, in a very tiny voice. 

She looks up into Catalina’s face for the first time and, when Catalina nods a Go Ahead nod, holds out a hand to gently stroke the tiny tigers little head.

‘Good girl.’ Catalina keeps hold of the chain, but holds it loosely so that Kitty can thoroughly investigate the silver charm with her own small fingers.

She turns it over and over, looks into the tiny face and mews experimentally and then gently strokes it with her forefinger like she’s petting a very tiny cat.

After a moment, she leans back and whispers something to Jane, who smiles and shakes her head.

‘I don’t know, darling. Why don’t you ask Catalina?’

Kitty’s voice is tinier than the tiger. ‘What’s it called?’

Catalina smiles at her. ‘She doesn’t have a name yet. I never thought to give her one.’

Cathy opens her mouth to correct her- it’s true Catalina never gave her tiger necklace a name herself but only because Cathy asked her the same question when she was around Kitty’s age.

She’s just about to tell Kitty that the tiger's name is Stripey, when Catalina gives her hand a quick, tiny squeeze, and she knows, just knows, somehow, without anyone saying anything, that she shouldn’t say a word.

‘What do you think would be a good name for her?’ 

Kitty hesitates for a moment, thinking hard. ‘Silver Kitty’ she says at last. Her voice is a tiny bit stronger.

Catalina nods decisively. ‘Then Silver Kitty she is.’

‘Give her back now, Kitty Kat’ Jane says, and Kitty reluctantly lets go.

‘What do we say to Catalina?’

‘Thank you.’

‘And thank you for the excellent name.’ Catalina says, scooping her hair out of the way to fasten the necklace back on.

Jane is smiling and blinking a bit too much. She sets Kitty back on her feet so that she can help Catalina fumble with the tiny clasp and Cathy catches her whisper.

‘-first time she’s- ever since- thank you so much-’

Catalina murmurs a quick ‘You’re welcome’ back, and then raises her voice slightly and says they should probably let the girls get started with the sleepover and Jane says yes, yes, she’s sorry to have held them up and would Catalina like to pop in for a cup of tea at her own house next door, and Catalina says yes, that would be lovely-

-and then Anne is pulling open the door wearing a new tshirt made of very shiny green fabric that is almost like scales and Catalina is giving her a last kiss goodbye and Anne is grabbing Cathy’s hand and pulling her inside, to where there is already music playing and the tempting smell of birthday cake.

[lowkeyassgard]

DAY 10 OF LOKI VS. EARTH: CONCERTS

Day 10 of Loki vs. Earth series and today Loki is very pissed off by attending a country concert.

One shot summary: After bailing Loki out of some serious trouble, Thor asks Loki to attend a concert with him.

Quarantine series summary:It’s going to be a series of fun and light hearted one shots to help readers and other writers get through this hard time. I made a a03 collection and a tumblr tag. To join just write a fun, soft, and/or light hearted one shot and post it to the collection @Quarantine_Series or tag it on tumblr as #quarantine series.

Word count: 900 words

Loki didn’t care much for music, He never understood why Midgardians would spend their time blasting loud obnoxious noises into their ears. Also, didn’t understand how they enjoyed it. He didn’t like it but since permanently residing on Midgard his brother Thor had found a love for it. He blasted it through their home and would dance around like a psycho. Loki thought Thor a fool for it.

Thor had been pestering Loki to attend a concert for the last few months. Loki had repeatedly said no but knew he would no longer be able to decline the offer. Loki had recently run into some trouble leading Thor to bailing him out. Literally. Loki was arrested for assault. He did nothing of the sort, but the police officer insisted that Loki had come at it. What had actually happened was that one-day Loki was walking down the road flipping his favorite blue knife and a police officer had stopped to question him. Loki was not a fan of this man tone and pointed his knife at the officer. Loki wasn’t going to stab him, but the officer said that he had to jump back to avoid being plunged in the gut. What a liar. Upon Loki’s arrest they confiscated the knives on him and threw him in a dirty dark cell.

He spent two whole days in the jail because the police department had no clue who Loki was and how to contact someone to bail him out, Loki wasn’t from Earth, so he did not have a fingerprint on file or even a social security card. The entire police department was perplexed by his existence because to their computer system Loki simply did not exist. Yet he did and he like all others will have to serve the time for his crime. On the second night of his confinement Loki astray projected to New Asgard and pleaded with his brother to free him. Sure, thing the next morning there Thor was with a big wad of cash to free him and recover his prized knives.

With that situation in mind Loki knew the next time Thor asked he would have to go. He did in fact owe his brother and how horrible could a concert be.

The dreaded ask came two days later. Loki was in his bed reading a book over astronomy. It was a calm and bright day. He was in a pleasant mood. He was until Thor came waltzing into his singing one of those songs he was always blasting.

“Oh brother! Do you recall when I got you out of that sticky situation?

“How could I forget brother. It has only been a week.”

“Oh, how time flies when you are having fun. Speaking of fun how about you and me go to a concert tonight. There will be alcohol.” Thor emphasized the last part. Loki wasn’t fond of Midgardian alcohol, but something was better than nothing. Since Loki didn’t have any form of identification he could not lawfully buy alcohol even he was thousands of years past the required age. The people would just not believe it. So, the only time he received alcohol was when he stole it, much frowned about by Thor and Valkyrie, and when he went to an event that served it to all guests.

“Ah yes brother. I do owe you so just this time I will join you.”

“YES!” Thor practically jumped with joy. Loki knew that Thor loved hanging out with him, but they just didn’t like the same things. Loki liked raves and clubs meanwhile Thor loved campfires and concerts. They were like polar opposites and yet they still loved each other dearly. When Loki had no one, he had Thor. Thor was the only one that gave him chance after chance and saw the good in him. So even though he knew he would hate every minute of it if this concert would make his brother happy he would attend.

“Alright Loki. Be ready by six and where something that isn’t black.”

At a quarter to six Loki walked out of his bedroom in a olive green shirt and grey denim jeans. It was the only thing he owned that wasn’t black or Asgardian custom clothes. He felt like a teenager that was trying to be cool. He wasn’t going to impress anyone, so he swallowed his pride and put on a smile for his brother.

Thor on the other hand was absolutely ecstatic. He was in a plaid button up shirt blue denim jeans and boots. He was grinning ear to ear. The minute Loki came out Thor gave a big holler of excitement and practically dragged Loki out of their home to take a truck into the city.

They arrived at the concert venue within the next forty five minutes and immediately Loki wished he had said no. Just from the look of the people entering the venue he would be miserable. Everyone entering was dressed in cowboy hats and boot. The men and the women were plaid shirts and both were equally acting loud and obnoxious.

As Loki walked with Thor toward the entrance Loki groaned. The person taking the tickets was a blonde chick with a plaid shirt tied at her breast level. She was in cutoff denim shorts that showed the bottom of her undergarments. She was loud. Too loud. Loki wanted to throw his ticket at her and tell her to shut up before she found her mouth bound. Instead he calmly watched as Thor handed the tickets to her.

“HOWDY THERE BOYS. YALL READY FOR SOME FUN”

“No.” Loki simply said. Thor was beside him talking about how excited he was and had been looking forward to this all day.

Loki left his brother at the ticket stand to push his way into the venue. He thought maybe it would be better once inside, but it was not,

Thor had left out the part that this was a hillbilly concert. Loki wasn’t even trying to be offensive. A person that walked by him held a sign promptly stating that it was a hillbilly concert. The sign read “Hillbillies get down too.��

Everyone I mean everyone looked like they should be in the wild west. Loki didn’t usually complain about humans showing off a little skin but now he was. Their attire and the way they presented themselves repulsed Loki.

He pushed himself thought the crowd of sweaty exposed bodies to find the bar. Once there he was even more repulsed. They just had beer. Cheap piss. This was their suck ass excuse for alcohol. The whole reason why he was here. Loki remembering, he was doing for this Thor laid down a few bills and took one of the beers. He took one swig of the beer and spit it out on the ground.

“Real men drink beer.” A woman sitting at the bar scorned at him. He reached for his knives to realize he left them at home.

‘Real women know not to pester a man that could easily destroy them.” Loki spat at her. Pardon his language but fuck her. If he had his knives he would hold them at her throat until she cried out in mercy. He might not want to take over the world anymore, but he would not be disrespected.

Not being able to stand the taste of this piss he threw the half full can on the ground and removed the lighter from his pocket and set it on fire.

“Oh, brother there you are!” Thor said before realizing that Loki had set a can of beer on fire and had attracted a crowd.

“Please excuse my brother. Its not a concert without a little spilt beer am I right?” Thor said before grabbing Loki by the arm and dragging him to the other side of the room.

“Loki, what did I tell you about burning things?”

“Do not belittle me brother. That Midgardian piss made a fool out of me and I smite its existence as punishment.”

“Just stand here and have some fun. The concert is starting soon.” Thor said before taking a swig out of his own can of fermented piss.

The concert did start but Loki did not have fun.

The music was horrendous. It was loud. Obnoxious loud. The people let out yeehaws like they were farm animals. At one point the man beside Loki made the comment that he loved this music which Loki returned by screaming “THIS IS NOT MUSIC.”

Worse than the music was the dancing that followed. The dancing looked like an exorcism ritual. The people shook their bodies and bent them in ways that should mot be normal. They thrashed against each other and yet out shared simultaneous hollers. Loki felt as though he was watching a whole crowd of people possessed by a spirit and this country music was expelling them of their farm demon.

As the night went on the crowd got worse. Even his brother began to thrash around and swing his beer in the air. Later Loki would ask what happened and Thor would just say he was overcome by the music. Overcome by the music? The only thing Loki was overcome by was the urgent need to bleach his eyes and wipe his memories of this event.

When the crowd began to sway, Loki let out a groan. The people around him assumed he was joining them in their pleasure but he was not. Every time their shoulder pressed into his body he had to stop himself from grabbing them and snapping them in half.

At one point the stranger beside him bumped a little too hard into Loki taking him by surprise and knocking him to the concrete floor. That was loki last straw.

“I do not know what kind of hoe down throw down you people think this is hit if you so ever even think about touching my godly skin I will remove your bones from your body one by one.”

The people around him just stopped. They stopped dancing. The must stopped playing. The people all stopped to look at Loki.

“I am a god and I will not be disrespected and touched by you distasteful rowdy animals.”

Thor just watched in disbelief as his dear brother screamed at a venue of people.

“ I did my best to enjoy this time for the sake of my brother but you farm animals sad are just not worthy of my company.” With that Loki felt arms reach around him and he was picked up. A very large human carried him outside the venue and threw him on to the ground.

“Do you know who I am?” Loki screamed at the man.

“No and I do not care. Move another inch and I’m calling the cops.”

Loki was absolutely appalled that he was thrown out. He was even more appalled that Thor did not quickly come out to him. Instead loki spent the next 2 hours on the ground outside of the venue. When Thor finally came out he was completely hammered. . He was smiling and laughing to himself

“Brother. You are such a pain. Kicked out of a concert. If only mother and father could see this. They would laugh so hard they wept.”

Needless to say that Loki never attended a concert after that.