#not to mention not being able to pronounce words for shit

[amdiriel]

lonely pt. 2

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: After a vulnerable moment of comfort, Reader tries to navigate Azriel’s increasingly flirtatious behavior without assuming anything. Because she really shouldn’t. Right?

WARNINGS: FLUFF, slight suggestiveness, a bit of hurt but SO much comfort, not proofread we die like men

NOTE: thanks for so much love on part 1! I have some ideas for new Az fics, so lmk if you're interested in being on my Azriel taglist! xox diri

WORDS: ~4.2k

part 1 main masterlist

•••

It had been about a week and a half since my little breakdown in my room, my cycle coming and going just days after it. I attributed my moment of uncharacteristic hopelessness to hormones.

I hoped Azriel would too, since I had trouble fully looking him in the eye ever since out of embarrassment. After a night of deep rest post-letting-it-all-out, I woke the next morning to a spill of hindsight in my mind, grumbling at my ridiculousness into my pillow. Despite my cycle being a royal pain in my ass, it was a few days where I could hide safely in my room.

So the next few days, I was determined to be fine. I was great, living the dream, no worries here, wielding a grin and a dry joke as always.

The first day after my cycle ending, I wake up to blissful absence of pain in my abdomen, and treat myself to a long bath.

Afterwards, I take advantage of a brisk morning walk, the sunshine making the late winter weather less intolerably cold. I barely get two blocks from the River House before a shadow passes over my head.

I tilt my head back, squinting through the direct sunlight. Then the shadow descends at an alarmingly fast rate and touches down near-silently beside me. “Good morning,” Azriel murmurs.

I jump at his sudden appearance, the bubbling nervousness at his closeness making it more pronounced. “Shit—Azriel,” I gasp, calming myself with a breath. “What the hell?”

He chuckles lowly and nudges me slightly as he matches my resuming pace. “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid,” he says, not sorry at all.

I huff and roll my eyes, even as my lips curl up as well. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You need to wear a bell.” His laugh curls around me.

“I’m not sure it would go with my leathers,” he pretends to muse. “A collar would really ruin the effect of my scariness. Not to mention the whole point of being Spymaster.”

I snort, shaking my head. He nudges me again, drawing my gaze back up to him. I find his eyes warmly on me.

“I’m glad to see you out and about,” he says. “I was worried about you.”

I let the sweet words warm me for a quick moment before I huff a small laugh. “It’s my cycle, not sickness. I’m good.”

He shrugs. “Still. I know it’s much worse for you and your sisters now that you’re all fae. You handling them alright?”

My expression softens. “You’re sweet. I’m fine. I didn’t have much pain as a human, so I think as far as fae cycles go, my pain now is relatively mild. I mostly just don’t want to do anything,” I reply with a shrug of my own.

Azriel eyes me for a moment. “Alright. But you’ll let me know if you need anything, right? I haven’t forgotten about our agreement, you know,” he says with a sly smirk.

It takes a second for it to dawn, but soon a blush blooms on my face as I remember that night. I huff a sigh, finding it within me to laugh a little at myself. “So, what, you want me to come to you any time I have a problem?” I ask dryly.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers plainly.

I give him a look. “Are you now our resident therapist too?” I deadpan. “Your resume’s long enough, Shadowsinger, you can take a pause every once in a while.”

He laughs again, shaking his head at me. “I may be busy, but never for you. Never for family,” he replies, and with such sincerity in his eyes that my steps falter for a moment.

Fuck. What happened to cool and collected, Archeron?

But I swallow and arch a brow. “Sweet. But you’re barely here enough to be able to do so for the many members of our ever-growing household,” I say, thinking about our nephew Nyx.

He shrugs a shoulder, his wings unfurling then furling in a subtle motion that catches my eye. I’d always found them fascinating. “Then how about this—I’ll never be too busy for you,” he says, a note saucily that my widened eyes turn upon his smirking face.

I grasp for words for a moment, and I see his eyes delight at my moment of hesitation. I shut my mouth and switch tactics, laughing. “Why Az, you are positively Rhys-like today.”

His brows raise, expression lighting in challenge. “Oh am I? Enlighten me, sweetheart.”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek at that damned pet name again. This male just made it so bloody difficult to be dignified at all. I swear, every moment in his presence is a fight for my life. “You’re all—” I gesticulate over his person, “Swaggering. It’s unnerving. Please, for my sanity, resume your duties as our resident brooder. You’re putting me off.”

His head tilts back with a hearty laugh that startles me into astonishment. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he drawls, suddenly feeling like he’s looming over me.

Stupid, tree-like male.

I don’t reply except for a disbelieving huff at his forward behavior. His smirk is self satisfied as he halts, taking a step back with a sketch of a bow.

“You’ll have to resume your walk without me, Ms. Archeron,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose at the use of my surname. His smiling eyes rove over it, dipping to my lips before locking with my own gaze again. “Think you can manage?”

I scoff and manage to flip him off as his enormous wings unfurl and beat his figure into the air. His rumbling chuckle disappears as his shape grows smaller in the sky.

—

The following days, he wasn’t as blatantly swaggering, as I had called him, but he was…

Forward. Disarmingly so.

I couldn’t seem to avoid his presence if I tried, if merely to kick some sense back into myself. First it was the library—when I had settled into the cozy window seat, my usual perch, an hour into my reading, he had strode in his silent yet confident way of his. I had stilled, as if hoping he’d simply not notice me. Fool. He notices everything. And he certainly had wasted no time sidling up to my perch and leaning over to observe what I was reading. His warmth and masculine scent was a pleasant yet oppressive blanket to my poor sensibilities. And I barely survived when he had hummed “Any good?” practically into my ear.

Or there was lunchtime—I’d wander into the kitchen to make something quick and simple for myself, and when I walked into the dining room he’d be sitting there already, looking up with a small, unassuming smile. When he bade simply, “Sit with me”, I had no choice but to obey and eat with him. In my suspicion, I confess that I switched the times I went to get lunch by random intervals, in which each and every time he either was already there or showed up soon after.

I couldn’t tell if it just happened that way, or if he was being overly clever in his intentional variation.

Now, three weeks post-meltdown incident, Azriel had been gone a few days on Cauldron-knows-what business, so I’d loosened up, no longer bracing myself like he could walk into the room at any second.

Which is apparently my folly, since as soon as I round the corner into the dining room one morning, I found him standing at the sideboard, back toward me, making a cup of tea.

I halted, nearly rearing back as my mouth started to form the word shit, but quickly clamping it down. But even the smallest of noise alerts someone as discerning as him.

He turns and calls my name with quiet warmth, and I banish the wince from my face. “Hey,” I say simply. “When did you get back?”

“Last night,” he says, abandoning his tea to draw near. My head tilts back as he stops in front of me. “How have you been?” he asks with a soft smile.

His quiet care is almost more flustering than his forwardness. “Well. Fine,” I answer. “And you? Your mission or whatever successful?”

He huffs amusedly. “My mission or whatever was just fine,” he replies. Then he returns to the sideboard. “Tea?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Just bla—”

“Just black. I know,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. I blink in surprise, cheeks pink. He’s been paying close enough attention that he knows that?

Of course he has, dummy. He probably has dossiers on everyone in this city with information down to the way they take their tea, the pragmatic voice in my head deadpans. You’re no exception.

I blink again as he draws near with a second cup, passing it to me. I take it with a small thank you, sipping it gratefully.

Just when I start to squirm on my feet at the silence between us, he speaks. “About what we talked about that night a few weeks ago—” I still. “You’re alright in that regard? And don’t lie, I’ll be able to tell.”

I huff a sound between a sigh and laugh, looking down. “Well, I haven’t had a night as bad as that one since then, so that’s good right?” I say with wry self-deprecation. He doesn’t reply. “But really, I’m alright. Just winter blues, I suppose.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

I roll my eyes in a small flash of annoyance. “Alright, not just winter blues. But they certainly don’t help. But I’m fine. Really. You did really help that night,” I admit softly.

I don’t really notice my teacup is empty until he gently takes it from my hand and sets it next to his already abandoned cup. “What helped most, sweetheart?” he asks gently.

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth—speaking my vulnerability aloud both impossible and foreign. Letting him in last time didn’t hurt. It helped, a small voice whispers in my head.

I take a breath. “Just—talking through it. Physical touch too, um…” I fight to stay steady. “It’s grounding.”

He hums, nodding. There’s a light touch to both my elbows, and my eyes shift down to find that he’d silently reached for me. I allow the touch, but don’t dare go further, suspended in the fear of the unknown.

“You don’t have to be afraid to ask for that,” he murmurs quietly. Suddenly I’m very aware of the air we’re sharing, how close he’s gotten to me. His hands slide slowly to my upper arms, my breath hitching as the warmth of his palms bleed through even my heavy sweater.

The panic sets in before I can think this interaction through, before I can rationalize that maybe, just maybe he wants to be close to me, wants to touch me. Instead my eyes find the clock and seize the subject change before me. “Don’t you have Valkyrie training in five minutes?”

Azriel stills and follows my gaze to the clock. His jaw works once before the fleeting tension is gone. “You’re right. I should go.” He squeezes my upper arms gently before letting his hands drop. “Stay warm today. Wind is supposed to get bad, and temperatures will drop rapidly once the sun sets.”

I nod, giving him a brief smile. “Of course, you too. Stay warm, I mean.”

He returns my smile before leaving the room.

A whoosh of air leaves my lungs as soon as I’m alone again. Idiot. Silly, foolish girl.

—

Azriel was at his wits end.

He’d been pulling far more stops than his usual personality allowed, hadn’t he? She was certainly clever enough to notice that he was acting much differently around her, right? Had he just not been forward enough?

And still, she did not allow him closer, as close as two people could be. He'd given her every sign he could think of without embarrassing himself.

Impossible girl. Can’t you understand that all I want is to comfort and coddle you?

He must not have taken care to erase any tension in his expression by the time he touched down in the ring atop the House of Wind, because Cassian’s brows raised upon seeing him.

Azriel just had to cast him a cool look for his brother to relent, though he caught the half-smirk on the General’s face as he turned toward the group of priestesses warming up and began training.

It was during sparring that Nesta finally deigns to sidle up beside him as he watches a match. “So. What the hell’s going on between you and my sister?”

He stills for just a moment before erasing the reaction. He debates lying to his friend, but she’ll call him on it. He doesn't think she’ll warn him off her sister either, so finally he admits evenly, “Much less than I would like.”

The eldest Archeron huffs a laugh. “I appreciate you sparing me a lie. Honestly, Az? My sister is just supremely oblivious, clever as she is. If nothing else has worked at this point, you just need to lay one on her.”

He chokes and turns his head toward her. “I would never. Not without her express permission—”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Gods, males can be so boring. At the very least you need to sit her down and make sure she doesn’t leave until she understands exactly what your intentions are. Then you can lay one on her, if she’s amenable to it.”

Azriel takes a deep breath, letting the words sink into his turbulent mind. “I don’t want to scare her,” he admits after a pause.

“You won’t,” she replies instantly. “She’s not afraid of you, she never could be. In truth, my sister is scared of very little. But based on the fact that she’s never had a romantic attachment before, what seems like indifference is likely just borne out of nervousness.”

“I don’t want to make her nervous either.”

“It’s not you that does. It’s just—being vulnerable. Emotionally intimate with someone,” Nesta says. “Years of fighting with her have taught me that she’ll hide anything behind biting wit or a laugh and joke. I think that’s what makes it all the more difficult to understand.”

He doesn’t reply.

“But speaking not as her sister, she definitely is attracted to you,” Nesta continues. “Speaking as her sister?” He looks at her cool features. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then she stalks away to Gwyn and Emerie.

Azriel forces down a growl. Tonight. He'd do it tonight or hell, he'd go crazy from this dance around the line. He'd spent too many centuries wanting this, wanting companionship for him to squander an opportunity with, at last, a female that he connected so deeply with. A female that seemed to need his touch as badly as he needed hers.

So...yes. He'd had quite enough of waiting.

—

True to Azriel's word, it did end up being very cold today.

I forgo any ideas of taking a walk, but I did end up camping out in the warmth of Feyre's study, taking turns with her to organize some of her paperwork or play with Nyx on the floor. My nephew (and his poor parents) had had some rough nights due to the last dregs of his teething pain, but it was good to see him smiling and playing despite it all. Rhysand stopped in frequently, unable to stay from his mate and son for extended periods of time, and after the fourth time Feyre shooed him out with their laughing, squirming son in his arms.

Our bi-weekly dinner fell that evening. Usually I enjoyed it.

Usually.

The dinner was fine. But I was so chilled that I took the opportunity of warmth from any hot dish passed around to me. I shiver for the upteenth time as Azriel passes me the potatoes.

"Cold?" he murmurs close beside me, and I shiver again. Not from the cold, damn him.

"Freezing," I retort instead, scooping potatoes on my plate. "Doesn't Rhys have this place warded to hell? Why is it so drafty?"

Azriel chuckles lowly. "How do you know that it isn't just you?" he teases.

I shoot him a look. "No, no, Mr. 'Stay Warm Today', I'm quite certain it isn't."

He laughs again, and it warms me only temporarily. I finish before everyone else, per usual. Not only do I tend to eat fast, but I'm also not caught up in constant conversation. Bored, my eyes travel the room, around my friends. My family. Even in my relaxed, two-glasses-of-wine haze, my mind doesn't fail to notice how paired up they all seem to have gotten.

Feyre and Rhys feed a fussy Nyx in his highchair, Rhys's eyes roaming over his mate and child with unrepressed love. Cassian's arm was slung around Nesta's shoulder, my usually stoic sister slumped comfortably into his side. Varian looked down at Amren next to him like she was the most fascinating creature alive, which...wasn't entirely a subjective statement, considering her interesting history.

Even Elain was speaking in shy tones with Lucien, who watched her with amused adoration. I had been so proud of my younger sister for finally realizing that she could just as well choose him as not choose him. They were taking it slow, she'd been telling me recently, but she begrudgingly had found that her mate was, indeed, her perfect match.

But as with all my friends and family, my happiness for them comes at a cost. To myself.

I turn and opened my mouth to chase away the tightness in my chest, but found that the Spymaster next to me was turned away, engaging Mor in conversation on his other side.

I quickly clamp my mouth shut and instead go for my wine.

Gods, hadn't Feyre mentioned there was some sort of will-they won't-they situation between the two of them? Something that had been brewing for the five centuries they'd known each other? It was none of my business, of course, and I hardly paid attention, but even I noticed that it had been pretty consistently they-won't in the past few years of living here.

Right?

Azriel laughs at something she says, and suddenly I feel sick.

Cauldron. Was I going to be the only one left?

And even worse—had I also been imagining his forwardness with me as of late?

There's a rushing in my ears and I tune out completely, going blissfully blank.

I hardly recall cleanup. Or the migration to the living room. My body seems to draw itself to the fireplace, a hand lifting to drag a blanket off the back of an armchair as I settle on the floor before the flames.

And as I wrap the blanket around myself, shivering minutely, I can't bring myself to look at what I know I'll find behind me—each couple in the house cuddling for warmth.

—

Azriel's heart aches at the sight of her vibrating form in front of the fire.

He'd taken his place behind the armchair she usually sat in, hoping to finally coax her into having a conversation in the privacy of the hall. Or if things went well, his bedroom.

But instead he watched her walk as if unawake from the dining room to the fireplace in the living room. Unblinking. Not looking at anyone else.

He doesn't know what to do.

He also doesn't realize that a shadow had flitted to her until it came slinking back to his shoulder, whispering, Upset. Crying.

His heart broke. Oh, sweetheart.

He felt suspended in air, in time for a moment. Everyone was lounging, cuddling in their respective pairs, speaking quietly with one another. Distracted. So he took a gamble.

And silently pushed forward.

—

I felt him before I heard or saw him.

I lock up as I feel his warm body settle on the rug, not quite directly behind me, but not quite beside me either.

His touch was warm, intentional.

Mother, I needed intentional touch so badly.

I hadn't realize how upset I had gotten until the first cold tear spills down my cheek. I wipe hastily at it.

"Hey," he coos softly in my ear, his arm coming firmly around me and drawing me into him. I sniff, shooting a panicked glance over my shoulder since everyone was in the room right now. I barely register that his wings block any sight of the two of us from the rest of the room before his gentle hand guides my chin back to look up at him. "No one can see, sweet girl," he murmurs. "You're alright."

The lump tightens painfully in my throat as a second, third tear spill down my face. "Sorry," I mouth, unable to get any sound out.

"Stop," he whispers gently. "You're alright. You're safe." His hand slides to the back of my head and I let myself be guided to the shelter of his embrace, once again in his lap as I silently shake. "Are you feeling that way again?"

I nod silently.

He sighs. "Sweetheart. Why don't you just let me in?"

I untuck my wet face from his shoulder to glance confusedly up at him. "I...I am," I breathe. "You're—you're hugging me."

He shakes his head, cradling my face with both hands. "I mean: why don't you let me into that head of yours? That world? Most importantly, why can't you just let me into your heart?"

Said heart seems to stutter and stop beating.

There's a long moment where my lips don't form words, don't do anything except lay parted, slack. "What do you mean?" I finally blurt, a note of tightness in my voice.

His jaw works and he sighs heavily through his nose. "Sweetheart, is it so impossible to understand that this whole time you've found yourself lonely at the sight of everyone paired off that maybe I want to be that person for you? Your person?"

"Wh—you?" I sputter on a whisper as everything dawns, hell, practically crashes down upon me. The denial comes a split second after. "No."

"Yes."

My expression shutters in emotion. "There's no way—"

"There is," he murmurs with an adoring smile on his handsome face, thumbs brushing at my tears. "And you can't change that, ever. But what you can do is let me in."

I take a shuddery breath, in and out. "Let you in?"

He nods.

"Be my person?" I croak. "And I be yours?"

The words seem to have an effect on him, his chest puffing for a moment before deflating again. His hands cradle my face like I'm precious. I've never felt more so than in his lap. "Yes, sweet girl. Mine. And I, yours."

A release another uneven breath, feeling my body go warm all over. "I—I never thought that I...that you could want this with me. Could want me," I rasp.

He smiles. "But I do. I have for a long time."

I let out a little wet laugh. "Gods, I—" I shake my head. "I don't feel like asking questions right now. I've wanted you too, for so long. I just didn't want to delude myself, to make a fool of myself in front of you when you're so..."

He raises a brow but his eyes remain warm. "So?"

"So perfect, damn you," I finish, no real malice behind my words. When he laughs this time, I feel it seep directly through my chest and into my soul.

"You're the perfect one, sweetheart," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to my hairline like he had those weeks ago. "In more ways than one." He draws back to look at me, and I return his gaze with nothing but openness, with love. Then he breathes, "May I kiss you?"

Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I give him a little nod. "You may."

He dips his chin ever so slowly, and when his soft, full lips finally meet mine, my eyes slip shut. Tentative, and so gentle with me, he dares his tongue over my bottom lip. Though I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, I let him through.

The first swipe of his tongue, this hungrier kiss sets my soul ablaze, his hands travel to wrap around my waist, drawing my chest against his.

We kiss quietly yet needy for Cauldron knows how long. All I know is that I’m breathless, fuzzy, and light by the time I draw away softly. He chases my lips a moment more before settling his forehead against mine.

Breathing the same air.

A giddy smile tugs at my features, and I giggle with blushing embarrassment. “They definitely know what’s going on,” I whisper, fighting the urge to peek. He chuckles lowly and draws me closer, depositing a kiss on my shoulder, my jaw, then my lips.

“I sent them out,” he replies. My brows raise. “I told Rhys mind-to-mind that if he didn’t get everyone out, I’d quit.”

A laugh bubbles up within me. “Liar. He just decided to have mercy on us. On me, at least.”

Azriel grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Boyish. Free.

“Kiss me again,” I whisper. And he does.

That night, he takes me to his room, scooping me under the covers and into his body. I’m too wired, too happy to fall asleep right away. It’s when I watch him slip into dreamland, the most relaxed I’ve seen him, that there’s a tug within my chest.

A soft glow flickers to life deep in my soul. I smile and let the tears fall as I feel what I think is the bond.

I settle in. I���ll tell him tomorrow.

•••

NOTE: i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it! i have an idea for a short series taking place post-ACOSF, where Reader is part of a group in Montesere that’s sort of adjacent to the Valkyries, and she comes to visit the Library, so I’ll start drafting if anyone is interested k love you bye! -diri

TAG LIST: @lilah-asteria @salvatoresister1 @a-courtof-azriel @thestartitaness @casiiopea2 @kk191327 @missxmarvelous @saltedcoffeescotch

[spdrslayr]

003. atsv headcanons ! ★ pre collider jonathon ohnn x reader…

! pt. 2 - post collider hcs. ⁀➷ srcs... masterlist .rules. intro .

| synopsis, ୨♡୧ a little glimpse into your relationship with dr. johnathon ohnn.

★ tags -> gender neutral reader; johnathon ohnn; the spot; fluff; etc...

★ warnings -> cursing; johnathon being a meanie; mentions of trauma & abandonment

★ w.c -> 1,028

| xox, mei! ୨♡୧ -> earlier a centipede got into my room while i was bopping out to hyperpop. it scared me so much that i was able to leverage the fear into energy for writing.

he loves to make you laugh. johnathon’s such a  goof compared to other renowned scientists of his age and caliber. really, it’s a breath of fresh air. he knows how to have fun, especially with you.  he’ll crack the funniest joke at work only for his coworkers to look at him like: 😐😐😐; so it makes him really happy to know you think he’s funny. you both have so many inside jokes n stories that you’ll cherish forever.

he’s totally the type of person to make jokes whenever he’s nervous or unsure of what to say. he won you over by being silly!

he’ll say the meanest jokes about people you both don’t like, and it’s insanely funny. you think of your johnny as the sweetest boyfriend- but you have to admit, it’s kinda hot when he’s mean.

“if mr.fisk keeps crying about the mets- i’m gonna make sure this collider kills us all,” he grumbled under his breath.

“that annoying photographer visited alchemax again. what was his name…” he feigned innocence. “piper pickle?”

johnathon is such a nerd. it’s adorable how excited he gets about his favorite video games and movies. please indulge in his geeky interests!! he’d love love LOVE to watch some of his favorite sci-fi movies with you. he’ll talk over the entire movie, but it’s still nice to cuddle.

 if you don’t know how to play a certain video game of his, he’ll teach you. his voice is so soft n understanding, his breath tickling you while you cuddle. johnathon’s squished to your side, his large hands covering n guiding yours over the controller. and gets so giddy when you win something. all in all, he’s just happy to share something so dear to him with you.

imagine if it turned out one of his favorite characters (crushes cough cough) bore a striking resemblance to you. johnathon is mortified and you’re weirdly flattered (and planning an elaborate cosplay for a surprise.)

his intelligence drives you nuts. it’s INSANELY attractive to you how smart johnathon is. whenever he goes on a tangent about physics or some complicated mathematical concept, you get kind of dizzy listening to him. you don’t mean to, but after a while, you get too distracted by all of him to listen. he’s so passionate, his large hands and long fingers waving about to help emphasize his point. his eyes are sparkling too. his voice got a lot deeper when he (perfectly, by the way) pronounced the word “viscoelasticity” and you’re on cloud 9. this happens whether or not you can understand a word he’s saying. and if you’re not well versed in science, he never talks down to you when rambling. sure, he’s very proud to be a super-genius, but he’d never dream of looking down on other people because of it. 

you’re always asking him questions and he fucking loves it. DON’T ASK GOOGLE ABOUT SCIENCE SHIT. if you do he’ll be all pouty n sad.

“hey siri, what is the shape of an electron-”

he looks furious, letting out a scoff. “i’m right here. your smart-ass boyfriend is only a few feet away and you’re asking ol’ googly eyes!”

despite being a busy workaholic, he insists that he’s never too busy for you. if necessary, he’ll make time.

johnathon’s made it his mission to outsmart anyone who impresses you. “i’m not jealous i’m BETTER.”

johnathon adores cuddling you, especially after a stressful day. he just loves you so much that sometimes the only way he can express that to you is by holding you as close as humanly possible. johnathon adores every inch of your being and intends to appreciate every part of it, scars and all. one may expect him to be the big spoon because, well, long man- but it goes either way. sometimes he clutches you like his life depends on it and other times he just needs to bask in your embrace. it makes him feel safe, loved, and on his worst days, invincible.

when in bed, he’ll be running his big hands up and down your sides, rubbing circles into every dent n curve. his hands are hairy, so it’ll tickle a bit, but the way he massages you is nothing short of masterful. he’s so happy that you’re his, so he makes sure to savor you.

johnny loves it when you trace his tattoos. he thinks it’s so cute how much you love them, letting you ‘oooh’ and ‘awww’ as much as your pretty little heart desires. 

in the past he absolutely loathed going to alchemax events. being choked by a black tie for a whole ass evening while being forced to mingle with rich assholes is a nightmare for the poor man. but having you come along as his date makes the experience a more positive one. johnathon gets so smug, always delighted to show you off. like yeah, that’s MY s/o. yes they’re gorgeous and taken. by ME. he loves seeing you all dressed up, especially when you’re on his arm.

he’s an introvert, so he gets tired of all the socializing quickly. when that happens, he’ll wander around the venue with you (including places you aren’t allowed to be at-) to get some privacy (and make out.)

speaking of work, he has a picture of you on his desk. he has it placed at an angle so he can see it clearly, but so can anyone who walks in. 

johnnys practically screaming: “hey!! look at how beautiful my partner is!!!!”

he calls you baby. he’ll also call you dear, honey, and sweetheart, but baby the most. also counting babe. johnathon has a shit ton more cute nicknames for you and he is NOT afraid to use them.

“g’morning, baby,” he’ll murmur into the crook of your neck, in between sloppy wet kisses on your shoulder.

he passes by you in a rush, but not without pressing a big wet kiss to your check, “hi babe! :)”

“baaaaaabe where did you put the chips?” he can be whiny, especially with you.

“i love you, baby,” he’d tell you softly, cradling your face with his hand. his thumb is rubbing your bottom lip and you’re ready to faint.

[httpscomexe]

is chapter 4 of runaway will be coming out soon? just genuinely asking, take your time don't feel rushed!!! i absolutely adore your fics 😍😍

Runaway 4

Summary: Xavier takes others over you, leaving you with Logan's worst nightmare. Staying with Wade Wilson.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, forced drinking, sexual jokes, fourth wall breaking. (Individual warnings per chapter) This will most likely be a non-con fic.

Word Count: 4155 (Find all chapters here) CH5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

It becomes sort of a routine with Logan.

Wake up, let him brush your hair, let him choose your clothes, study, eat dinner, let him brush your hair, sleep, and then repeat. Occasionally, he would have days where he was busy, and you knew better than to try finding Wade. Since he’d taken your phone as a punishment, you hadn’t been able to contact anyone else either. But you didn’t think much of it.

And right now, it was morning. The sun was shining through his open curtains, light shining onto your thighs as you sat on the floor, Logan sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed as he brushed through your hair, his fingers occasionally stroking over your ears.

“Okay, what does this word mean?” You held up the book you were reading, and you pointed at a word on the second page.

“Do you know how to say it…?” He asks you, still brushing through your hair, you weren’t sure why he still was, since there weren't any tangles left.

“Sub…Lim…” You try pronouncing the word, stuttering a little. “Inal?”

“Good, now say it all together.” He asks, taking a tie off his wrist to pull your hair up into a ponytail, but he changes his name and continues to brush it.

“Subliminal? What does that mean?”

“Read the sentence, try to figure it out…” He tells you, sectioning your hair now to part it into box braids.

“It says ‘As is typical with this method, no part… particip…ant… participant reported being aware of the sub…liminal faces.’” You struggle a little, and hear him chuckle behind you.

“Good, what do you think it means?”

“Well…” You think about it, trying to remember what Xavier had taught you about root words, and just as you’re about to explain your thought process, there’s a knock at the door, making your ear twitch slightly to the sound. “Ow…” You move your head away, the pointy end of the brush he was using the part of your hair pokes the sensitive skin of your ear.

“Shit… sorry… are you okay?” He quickly gets down to his knees, and his hand fans over your large ear, and there's another knock at the door, the person behind it getting impatient.

“I’m okay Lo, go see who’s at the door.” You gently nudge his hand away, and you watch as he sighs and stands up to open the door, leaving you to gently rub your ear. You weren’t sure why they were so sensitive, but you were sure it was because you weren’t grown in your deer form yet. You’ve only spent a few hours in that form in total in your many years of being alive, so of course, it wasn’t very… developed.

“Jean?” You can’t see too well from your position on the floor, the bed being in your way.

“Hey, I wanted to talk about something, is Bambi here?” You stay quiet.

“No, she’s out with a friend.” He clears his throat, and you understand what to do, you crawl to the other side of the bed so you wouldn’t be visible to Jean.

“Can I come in?” You hear Logan step inside, then lighter footsteps until Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So Xavier told me…” You hear the bed move a bit more, and assume Logan sat down next to her. “Having her here is too risky.”

“Too… risky?”

“Yes… Considering she’s a hybrid and all.” You hear her sigh. “Obviously, people are searching for those. And if anyone finds out that she’s here… Well… Then we’re compromising the safety of everyone in the mansion.”

“So what? He wants to just throw her out?”

“No, he will provide her with a home and clothes to hide her-”

“It’s not happening.”

“It’s not up to you, Logan.” By this time, your ears were already pinned down to the back of your head, and if you weren’t sitting on your ass, your tail would be between your legs.

“She will die…”

“She’s survived all this time alone already. What difference would there be?”

“Yea she’s survived!” He half shouts and half whispers. “She’s survived because they catch her and hold her like a fucking animal.”

“Logan, why are you whispering? We’re alone.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then a sigh comes from Jean. “Bambi, you can come out.” Your ear perks up slightly, but you don’t move, she wasn’t in control of you.

“Bambi honey, come on out.” You stand to Logan's demand, slowly before crawling onto the bed, sitting near Logan.

“Hey… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell her, but your ears are still down.

“It’s just… If they find you here, it’s putting everyone else at risk, and Xavier would… Well he’d rather lose 1 hybrid than lose hundreds of mutants.”

“I understand.” You whisper, but your eyes meet Logans.

“When does Xavier want her gone?” Logan's voice comes out gruff.

“As soon as possible. He was hoping this afternoon.”

“And why isn’t he the one telling me this? Why did he send you?” She’s quiet again apart from a sigh. “God he’s a fucking pussy.” His head turns towards you. “There’s a duffle bag in the closet, start throwing our clothes in it Bambi.” He stands up, and Jean stands up with him, a stunned look on her face with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry… Our?” She watches as you disappear into the closet, and her jaw goes slack as Logan follows behind you. “No, no. Logan, you can’t leave.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, Logan. We need you on missions.” She stands at the opening of the closet, and you ignore their conversation, deciding it doesn’t have to do with you.

“You guys will do just fine without me.” He says, reaching over your head to grab a heavy jacket. “Here hun, carry this one. It’s cold outside.”

“Logan-” She grabs his arm, and tries to pull on him. “You can’t-”

“No.” His tone changes completely, from just simple annoyance to straight anger and frustration. He clearly wasn’t happy about Xaviers negligence, and the last thing he needed was the stubborn red head pulling on his arm and telling him he can’t. “I am not leaving her out alone in fucking New York to be kidnapped by another fucking gang.” He pulls his arm away from her and he points in her face. “If you guys need my help so fucking bad, then you better talk to Xavier and figure out a way she can stay here.”

“Logan, there are hundreds of lives on the line, you could at LEAST do the logical thing.”

“The logical thing?” His voice gets louder, and you take a small step away but continue folding clothes and stuffing them into the duffle bag. “I lost my entire fucking family and everyone I knew in my fucking universe, and Bambi is the closest thing I have to family here.”

“The closest thing you have to a family? Logan you fight beside us in missions that could end up with the entire state exploded to dust and what? We’re not your family?”

“No, you’re not. The Jean that was my family is fucking dead, the Xavier that was my family, guess what? He’s fucking dead…” You glance over from the corner of your eye to see Logan take a progressive step towards him with each name. “Ororo, Hank, Scott, everyone that was my fucking family is dead. So excuse me if I don’t want to see a walking fucking corpse every last waking second of my life, and be reminded of my fuck up, everytime I see you motherfuckers…” Jean was now packed into a corner, Logan's face barely inches away from hers, and you can see the way her jaw is clenching. “So don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can, and can not do. I have no connection to you, and will have no fucking problem sending three fucking blades down the centre of your throat.” She doesn’t say anything, only swallowing her spit before her eyes move to yours, still in the closet and frozen in the middle of folding a pair of Logan's jeans before you had become invested in their argument.

You’ve never seen Logan so pissed.

“Fine… Leave.” She looks back up at Logan. “Have the lives of a couple more hundred people in your hands because you left, again.” Shit… You watch as his claws slowly extract from his hands, and you put the jeans down, slowly approaching in case Jean becomes a target.

“You better take that back…” They stare at each other for a long moment. Only the sound of the fan above spinning and the heavy breathing from Logan could be heard through the room.

“Make. Me.” Logan.

“Oh…” He chuckles. Logan…! “Now you’ve done it…” Logan!

“Logan!” Your voice comes out small, and his head twitches a little as he looks over his shoulder. He looks as if he had forgotten you were there. “Can we leave… Please?” You glance down as his claws are hidden back beneath his skin, and it heals over quickly.

“Right…” He growls a little, and backs away from Jean after one last look. “Are you ready then?” He asks, ignoring Jean now as he goes into the closet and lifts the duffle bag, tossing in the last pair of jeans before zipping it up.

“Yes I’m ready…” You stand in the centre of the room awkwardly. “I guess…” You mumble, and Logan sways his hand in front of him, signalling for you to move ahead of him as he grabs his keys, and you’re out of the door quickly, leaving Jean alone in the room, and his arm slides behind your back to walk next to you.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, watching in the mirror as Logan tossed the bag in the back, slamming the door and making the truck shake a little before getting behind the wheel and starting the engine.

“So where are we going?” He sighs, thinking of an answer to the question with one hand on the wheel as he stares at nothing. Then he reaches into his back pocket, and takes out his phone, handing it to you. “Call Wade.” You take the phone. “Act happy or whatever, and ask if he has space for both you and me…” He growls a little again, looking out his window as you find Wade’s name in his contacts, and you ring it.

“Peanut? And I thought you deleted my number.” The sound of Wade's voice alone was enough to make you smile.

“No, it's me.” You chuckle a little, expecting him to recognise your voice.

“Oh, darling. Bambi, you’re using Logans’ phone. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. But he and I were wondering if you had space for both him and me?”

“They’re kicking him out already?”

“No, they’re kicking me out actually.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I have the couch, and I have an air mattress that I let Logan sleep on before he left me for one-eye. You guys can obviously stay here.” Logan sighs, but he starts the engine and speaks up.

“Still living under that bridge with Althea?” He asks gruffly.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to leave this humble abode. But peanut?” Logan grunts. “Do you mind picking up dinner? I’ll pay you back. We just need pizza.”

“Sure. What kind?” He turns over his shoulder and begins backing out.

“Hawaiian, no ham. And then just normal cheese.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks pea-” Logan reaches over and hangs up before putting the truck back in forward and he drives out of the parking lot, leaving the mansion behind.

“Can we also get some brownies?” You ask, putting the phone on the centre console.

“Of course, Bambi.”

“Oh, my two most favourite things ever are here!” Wades’ voice is joyful as both you and Logan walk inside of his little home, the smell of sweat and dog smacking you in the face.

“Male strippers and cocaine?” Another voice comes from a different room.

“Bambi and pizza!” He hugs you, and Logan grunts from behind. “Male strippers is my third favourite, silly.” He calls back, letting go of you and taking the pizza boxes from your hand.

“Hey Bam, how about you go shower, the bathrooms back there.” He points to the room where the other voice came from. Just another person comes out, wearing glasses and with a white afro and walking cane in one hand.

“Who the hell gives birth and names their kid ‘bam?’” She says, feeling around a little for the couch and mumbling something along the lines of ‘why does Wade keep moving the fucking couch.’ “That’s a stupid-”

“Her name is actually Bambi.”

“That’s a little better.” Just a few sentences in conversation between Wade and Althea, and you could tell just how close they really were besides their constant bantering. “Wait, her?”

“I know right? Logan managed to pick up a little girl.” Wade says giddily, placing the pizza boxes on the table and opening them all before taking two cheese, a pineapple, and three brownies.

“Oh then it’s not as surprising, I thought she was your girl.”

“Look, Wade and I need to have a talk.” Logan says suddenly, gently grabbing your arm to get you to look at him. “How about you go take that shower, okay?” You nod, and take some clothes from the duffle bag he's set on the floor.

“I promise the bathroom is the cleanest place in this house.” Wade tells you as you walk by, grabbing a brownie as you pass him. 

“Just ignore Wade's toys, he uses them when Vanessa is around.” Vanessa? “Or whenever Gossip Girls is playing… Wish I was deaf.”

You walk into the bathroom, the sound of Logan's voice disappearing as you close the door, and your eyes immediately land on the large dildo sticking to the wall, which you try your hardest to ignore and not laugh at as you turn on the faucet and remove your clothes.

With the time that you’re in the shower, Logan takes his time explaining to Wade why they need a place to stay for a while, at least until they find another place.

“God they are such pieces of shit. Like I get where they’re coming from with saving hundreds or saving one, but there’s also like either you save one hundred chickens or you save one unicorn. One’s just more important. You don’t find any mammal hybrids anymore.”

“Exactly, but also Jean got pissed off at me because I told her I’m leaving. Apparently I’m so important and they can’t win without me.” He takes a large sip from his beer, an understatement when half the bottle disappears down his throat.

“I mean they’ve survived and fought so long without this world's Logan before…” Wade tells him, snatching another cheese pizza.

“Look, if I ever end up having to leave…” He sighs, regretting his next words. “Just promise to take care of Bambi. Other than you, she’s all I have left.”

“Wow, talking about me like my life doesn’t matter.” He chuckles, shoving the cheesy bread into his mouth, getting the red sauce on his lips.

“Well you can’t die, she can.”

“Now, now. I was joking, Peanut.” Logan grunts at the use of the nickname.

“What’s this girl's real name anyways?” Althea asks, using a nail fail on her nails, not even realising how incredibly crooked they were becoming.

“No idea, I’ve been calling her Bambi cause… Well, she’s a deer hybrid.”

“Ah, ah. She’s a fawn hybrid.”

“Fawn isn’t a fucking species, it’s an age.”

“Yes, but she’s not a deer.”

“Pretty sure she’s full grown.”

“Maybe in her human form. But she hasn’t spent nearly enough time in her deer form to call herself a deer.”

“What are you talking about…?”

“Look at it this way, if she spent the majority of her life in her deer form, then she’d be a full grown deer, and whenever she turned into her human form, she’d be a toddler. Right now, she’s a toddler in her deer form, AKA, a fawn.” He pauses and looks away from Logan, eyes landing on Althea. “Al honey, if you keep doing that to your nails, they’ll be sharp enough to give someone a Prince Albert piercing.” He looks away from Althea and at a wall. “Readers, I don’t suggest looking that up.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Logan growls, and he can hear the sound of the shower being turned off.

“He does that sometimes, you learn to ignore it.”

“Maybe you do, but you’re blind. He literally just stared at the fucking wall and spoke to dust.”

“Like I said, you get used to it.”

As you get out of the shower and dry yourself, some sort of talk about walls and dust quickly changes into how Wade is a psychopath. Throughout your entire shower, you were thinking about where you’d be sleeping. Of course, knowing Logan, he’d let you choose between either the air mattress or the couch. The problem is, you didn’t know what’s been done on either of them. You knew Wade pretty well, and judging by the dildo still suctioned onto the wall, he didn’t really care who knew about what he did, and he didn’t mind where he did it. So you were sure there would be stains on either one.

“There she is.” Wade automatically silences the conversation as you walk out of the bedroom and back into the living room wearing only your favourite white lace panties and one of Logans’ hoodies, which looked oversized on your smaller body.

“Want the couch or the air mattress Bambi?” There it is. You still had the towel in your hands, and you were drying your hair as you sat next to him on the couch.

“Yea I had a question for you about that.”

“What’s up?”

“Is the couch even…” You look at Wade. “Clean?” You ask it in the nicest way you can, and the sight of Althea suddenly breaking out in laughter seems to stun Wade.

“Careful now, don’t want to have a stroke.”

“Oh fuck you.” She stops laughing and looks in your general direction. “Want my honest input.” You nod, but then remember she’s blind.

“Yes, please.”

“Sleep on the floor.” She tells you, then stands up with her walking cane, and heads towards her room, closing the door behind her.

“Logan, where would you rather sleep?” You expect him not to answer, and to just tell you that where he sleeps is based on your answer.

“I’d prefer the couch, an air mattress is like sleeping on a damn rock.”

“Can I just… Can I just sleep on you?”

“Oh. My. God. You better say yes, she’s offering to sleep with you.” Wade stands up from the couch, stretching in place before heading to Althea's room. They sleep together?

“Wade, we sleep together all the time.” Logan sighs.

“It was supposed to be a sex joke, Sheldon Cooper.”

“Who…?”

“Ignore it…” Logan holds his hand out, preventing you from saying anything else.

“Goodnight, Peanut. Goodnight, Bambi!” He calls from the room before closing the door, and you can hear the sound of him throwing his jeans down on the floor before the bed in the room creaks under his weight.

“So…”

“What do you mean sleep on me?” Logan asks, interrupting you.

“I mean like… You sleep on the couch, and I sleep on your body. Like you’re my bed.” He stares at you for a moment, as if deciphering your request.

“Yea… Yea, we can do that, that’s okay.” He groans as he stands up, tossing his beer bottle in a pile of more bottles, some broken from previous other bottles being tossed on them.

“I’m gonna eat first though, does Wade have anything to drink?” You ask, standing up as well, and skipping a little to his fridge.

“Ugh… I know he has beer.” He tells you, opening another closet and pulling out a few blankets as you open the fridge and search for something other than alcohol. You simply will not touch it.

“Gross… Is the sink water-”

“Don’t even think about drinking the sink water.”

“What does he give her?” You point down at the slobbery looking dog that’s been snoring this entire time, kicking her legs in her sleep.

“Probably his own saliva.” He tells you, and it almost sounded serious as he covers the couch in clean blankets. “Did you bring your hairbrush?” You nod, walking back over to the couch. “The beer?” He quirks his eyebrow, reaching down to find the hairbrush in the duffle bag.

“Beer is gross.”

“Grab me one then.” You turn back around, opening the fridge again to grab a beer for him. “Sit here.” He points to the couch, and you sit exactly where he’s pointing, and he sits behind you on the back of the couch as you’re seated between his legs.

“Thank you baby.” He takes the beer from your hands, and removes the few braids he was able to get in from that morning and afterwards he pops the beer open.

“How does your ear feel?” He asks once they’re all out, gently touching your ear with his fingers and stroking the fur gently, causing you to purr quietly.

“It’s fine, it was just a poke.”

“Good, I didn’t mean to hurt you Bambi…”

“I know, it was my fault. I moved.” He doesn’t say anything back, instead, he grabs the hairbrush and begins to gently brush through your hair, and again, as always, he’s careful to avoid your ears, using his hands to gently pull threads of your hair off the fur.

“Are you sure you don’t want the couch to yourself?”

“Logan, you know I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“I know, Bamb. Just trying to make conversation.” He tells you, and you reach forward, him gently letting go of your hair so he doesn’t pull it as you grab two cheese pizzas, the pineapple box completely empty.

“You have to drink something.” He continues brushing your hair, occasionally taking a sip of his beer as he focuses on brushing.

“I know, but beer is gross… We can always go out and get apple juice in the morning?” You suggest, and he sighs behind you.

“You haven’t drank anything all day.” He tells you, and you look up and over your shoulder at him as he sets the brush aside and puts more of the liquid in his mouth, you watch as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

“I’ll be alright.” You tell him as he stares down at you, and his right hand finds your chin as he lifts your face up slightly. Then he presses a single kiss to the corner of your lips, pulling back for a moment to take another swig of his beer, and his lips find yours fully now. His fingers squeeze your jaw carefully, but enough to force your own lips open, and he spits the alcohol into your mouth, making you involuntarily pull away but he keeps you still, replacing his mouth with his hand and covering your nose as well so you’re forced to drink the foul liquid.

“Now we either do that about five more times, or you drink the rest yourself.” He tells you, holding the half-filled bottle up to your eye level.

“Fine…” You groan, taking the bottle and sipping from it as he watches you.

“Good girl…” Your tail begins to wag on its own again at his praise and he removes his shirt before lying down on the couch with only a lamp on a small table next to the couch to illuminate a small portion of the room.

“Do I have to drink it all?”

“Just half is okay.” He tells you, and you close your nose before downing half of what he’s given you, hacking a little at the taste.

“Done.” You hold out the bottle to him, and he takes it, swallowing the rest before tossing the bottle towards the rest as before.

“Alright, lie down…” He pats his stomach a little, and you quickly crawl on top of him, taking a soft blanket from the side with you.

“So… since we’re living with Wade now…”

“You don’t have to ignore him…” He answers your question before you even finish asking it, and he shuts off the light behind him, casting the room in darkness, barely seconds later you feel his hand on your head as he gently scratches that spot behind your ear, making you purr.

You were relieved you wouldn’t have to ignore Wade, considering you’d be living with them for who knows how long.

“Just don’t ever sleep with him when I’m not here.”

Tags: @shybluebirdninja @atomicheartbroken @hazydespair

[waayoutofline]

Murder On The Dance Floor (part 4)

(from the When the Cat and the Mouse Go For a Midnight Dance series) | Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: Angst

WORD COUNT: 2560

A / N: I'm sorry for being so late with this update, uni is beating the shit out of me :´) I had a bit of difficulty in trying to piece the last parts of this sorry, as I didn't expect for it to be longer than three eps-- oops. However, we are near the end! I'll do my best to try to post the next part by next weekend :) Thanks for reading and have a nice day <3

***

It wasn't complicated with white, rich, narcissistic men. You could see it in the way their eyes draped over you—a glint of overconfidence merging with a sick sense of entitlement. It never failed to make your stomach churn in disgust.

You had once been under the control of disgustingly self-assured men like Ashford. Treated as a mere object designed for their sick interests. Still, overpowering them with their own foolishness came naturally, and a part of you found joy in trapping them.

It thrilled you, especially to see their terrified expressions morph into desperation just before their downfall.

But that familiar thrill didn’t come this time. Instead, a pressure on your chest weighed you down, an unfamiliar sensation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. The exchange with Natasha had shaken you. It’s ridiculous, you thought. Since when did you feel bad for doing what you did best?

“I couldn’t help but notice your eyes back there,” you started, carefully positioning yourself in a way that exuded naivety. Your arms rested delicately in front of you, drawing his gaze to your exposed skin. You mentally huffed at his complete lack of subtlety in ogling you. “Is everything alright?”

Your voice was remarkably soft, contrasting with the heavy bass vibrating through the air. Each word was pronounced slowly, deliberately, with a hint of a slur as though you’d had one too many drinks.

“Oh, nothing bad, I assure you.” He replied, his grin oozing overbearing confidence. But that’s exactly how you preferred it—unsuspecting and malleable. “Quite the contrary.”

You giggled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad. I actually was…” You paused with overdone hesitance, fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the tablecloth. “Never mind, I—”

“What is it, darling?” he interrupted, leaning forward as though entranced by your feigned shyness.

As if baffled by his encouragement, you stammered. “No, I… It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

His greyish eyebrows shot up, his body leaning closer, practically dangling on the hook you’d set for him. Got him. “Well, you’ve come so far. Might as well say it.”

“…Well, if you insist. I um fear I made a few mistakes when I felt your eyes on me. I just couldn’t help it! I’m such an admirer of yours.” you finally spat out, letting your expression shift into that of a star-struck teenager meeting their idol for the first time.

“An admirer, you say?” he teased further.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead nodding shyly and lowering your gaze in mock embarrassment.

“Yes, Mr. Ashford. Your reputation precedes you. I may or may not have gone to some of your… um…” You paused, letting the silence stretch just enough to make his eagerness blatantly obvious. You cut the distance slightly while looking around a bit. “Clubs. Just to see if I could catch a glimpse of you there.”

Your voice dropped lower as you spoke, but he still caught every word. You saw it in the way his grin widened, his ego practically swelling before your eyes. His expression darkened slightly when you mentioned his extracurricular activities.

“I appreciate a young woman like you taking an interest in my… enterprises,” he said, his tone thick with self-satisfaction. “But tell me, what do you expect to gain from this conversation, girl?”

He spat the last word as if asserting his dominance, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you paused, biting your lip in what appeared to be reluctance. Letting him think he was in control of this interaction would ensure that you’d get exactly what you wanted.

“I don’t want to come off as too forward, but… I was wondering if maybe…” Your hand moved closer to his sleeve, your fingertips just barely grazing his wrist. Your fingers twitched, as if you were anxious to tug at his sleeve. “You could help me. You’re a man of experience. The guys my age just don’t… command attention the way you do. I could always learn from that. If you’d agree, you could give me my first—” You paused deliberately, smirking as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Lesson, after this?”

He chuckled, his grin widening, his eyes darkening with a twisted kind of amusement. “Ah, I do admire your boldness. But I hope you understand that if we were to have these… lessons, they’d require a certain level of discretion. And, well, closeness.”

He reached out, his hand catching your wrist. His grip was authoritative, disgustingly possessive, as though he already thought of you as his property.

“Let’s do this,” he said, his voice low. “How about you keep dancing with that little friend of yours for now, hmm? I’ll be attending the VIP party after this. Who knows…” He leaned closer, his grin widening. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.”

You forced a bashful smile, nodding demurely as if flattered by his attention. Inside, you were seething, but you let none of it show.

“Oh, I’d love that,” you murmured, your tone soft and eager.

His grip on your wrist finally released, and you clenched your jaw to avoid pulling your hand away as if you had been burned. Smiling delicately on cue, you swiftly moved away, merging into the crowd. Your pulse quickened, but you tried to ignore the racing thoughts swirling in your head.

You would usually be more thrilled, knowing you had achieved your objective—a step closer to bringing down another disgusting individual for good. But the satisfaction was dampened by the heavy shadow of Natasha’s worried expression.

Funny. Usually, you would have felt euphoric at finally coaxing real emotion from her firm, steel demeanour. But this wasn’t as gratifying as you thought it would be.

Whatever this was—this ache enclosing your chest—it had to go away. You couldn’t afford to let it linger. After all, she depended on you.

The music resumed its usual rhythm, signalling that the final round was about to begin. Shaking off the nerves crawling over your skin like ants, you let out a sigh. But a presence behind you made it harder to settle yourself.

“Guess who just skyrocketed our chances to win.”  

Finally daring to turn around, you were met with her reluctant green eyes. She said nothing else, her silence cutting deeper than any snappy remark could. Flattening your smirk slightly, you accepted her offered hand and moved back into position.

The air swirled around you both, heavy with tension. Not your usual kind—the teasing dynamic you’d come to expect—but something sharper, almost suffocating. Trying to distract yourself from the unease, you focused on sneaking glances at Ashford over Natasha’s shoulder.

Even when he sent you a sly wink after speaking with Cole, the unrelenting heaviness didn’t lift. Natasha remained silent, offering no biting commentary or judgment. Her quietness made the unease sharper, more difficult to ignore.

But what her mouth didn’t say, her body did. Her movements were now sharp and constrained, a stark contrast to the almost goofy rhythm you’d shared earlier in the evening. Her expression was unreadable, her jaw set. Whatever flicker of worry or emotion she’d shown before had dissolved into a mask of cold professionalism.

“Natasha, I—” You started, the words clumsy and uncertain, unsure if you even should say something.

She cut you off before you could find your footing. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said finally, her voice not unkind but detached.

The words stung more than you wanted to admit. It's unfair, you thought. Ten minutes ago she was practically begging for you not to talk to him with utter worry in her eyes and now she was behaving as if none of that happen. If she didn’t want to care, then why dare to say nothing at all? Why mess with the dynamic you two had?

Fine. If she was playing this game, you decided, then you would too.

“The mission is the priority, right?”

You forced a smile, matching her tone.”Of course, Agent Romanoff.”

Her grip on your waist faltered slightly, her eyes lingering on yours for a brief second, but then she steadied herself, pulling you back into the flow of the dance.

After that, it didn’t take much. The last competitors, exhausted, crumbled under the pressure, their flashy styles dulled by fatigue. With Ashford’s support behind you, their disqualification came swiftly.

Honestly, you barely remember being called to the podium. The crowd clapped enthusiastically as Cole placed a tiara on your head and handed Natasha a large bouquet of flowers. A photographer called for a group photo, and you barely registered Ashford’s presence sneaking up beside you. The deliberate way he moved closer left no doubt about his intentions.

Your body tensed ever so slightly—a reaction you thought would go unnoticed. But this was Natasha, after all, and she wasn’t just anyone.

With a long stride, Natasha placed herself squarely between you and Ashford, leaving his eager hand grasping at nothing but air. Her body was as warm as ever as she pressed against your left side, her arm resting—almost protectively—on your shoulder. The sudden intimacy of the gesture stole your breath.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the soft brush of her remaining perfume teasing your senses and making it nearly impossible to think of anything else. The weight of her arm was grounding, an unspoken claim that demanded attention without a single word.

It caught you completely off guard. Given her disapproval of your recent… choices, you’d assumed she would leave you to deal with Ashford on your own. But instead, she was here, firmly stepping in and ensuring the middle-aged man didn’t get any closer.

Some of the tightness in your chest loosened at her intervention, though the flutter of nerves in your stomach was an entirely different problem.

Shortly after, the dreaded VIP card was finally thrust into your hands—the culmination of the first part of the mission. At least it was over. You sighed softly, glancing toward Natasha.

Her eyes met yours for the briefest moment, something unreadable passing between you before she broke away. With a shared understanding, you both headed off in separate directions to change into something more casual.

The mission wasn’t over yet. There was still the after-party to survive.

***

“Got eyes on him,” Yelena muttered through both your comms, finally returning. You were confused by her disappearance, thinking that Natasha wouldn’t allow you to go unnoticed for even a moment. Still, you said nothing. “South entrance, on the balcony.”

Twirling your margarita, you subtly glanced in the direction. Hmph, for being so wanted, he sure was… rather disappointing to look at. His red hair was slicked back with what seemed like an entire bottle of hair gel, his eyes reddened (clearly affected by the unrelenting smoke surrounding him), his beard slightly unkempt, and his suit was overdone. He wasn’t very tall either—Natasha was easily a head taller than him.

So, he wasn’t the charismatic type of renowned criminal. You could work with that.

“Oh, I see him alright…” you answered, your mind already racing with all the tactics you’d need to make him talk. As if on cue, Natasha’s voice cut through.

“Raven, for the love of God, stand down. We must proceed carefully.” She reminded you, making you huff in annoyance.

“Yeah, I know, careful. Got it.I can be that” You swore you could feel Natasha arching brow rising at that. Still, you did managed to follow their plan. Rather boring if they asked you, but effective.

The two of you had to eliminate his guard team without causing any commotion, using Yelena’s assistance. Afterward, Yelena would cut all the electricity, and that’s when you would swoop in, distance him from the crowd, and take him into custody.

The first step wasn’t really complicated. Perhaps it was from the years of fighting alongside each other, but Natasha and you moved as fluidly as you did on the dance floor while incapacitating Horvat’s security team. One of you would divert attention, and the other would take someone down. It was almost like a dance of sorts, the two of you working in perfect tandem.

With a flick of your wrist, you spilled the drinks on the last two men at the bar, making them more susceptible to Natasha’s sneaky spider bite. You almost flinched when they were hit, remembering the sting of them too well. The two of you caught them just before they hit the ground, casually draping them over your shoulders as if they were just two random drunks who’d had too much to drink.

Natasha said nothing as you positioned them suggestively, one on top of the other. At her inquiring gaze, you just shrugged with a mischievous smile. “What? Look around! People are both making out and passing out.”

Before you knew it, the area had mostly cleared, which should make it easier to get to the former Hydra general without much resistance. It was almost going to good when the light and the music were shut down, Natasha slipping to Horvat’s side and pretending to be one of his guards to take him to “safety” in between the slightly panicked crowd. You meanwhile parted the way, opening one of the backdoor exits so the three of you could slip away though the stairs.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from dancing all night that caught you both off guard, or maybe it was the eerie silence in the absence of Yelena’s usual sarcastic commentary after she cut the electricity. Whatever the reason, neither of you expected to be ambushed by a full squad of heavily armed men just as you reached the exit.

The cold night air bit sharply as you and Natasha froze in place, her grip on Horvat reluctantly loosening. He laughed, unsteady and throaty.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize my own guards?” Horvat rasped, his almost unbearable, scratchy voice grating as he stepped into view. Glancing over his shoulder, he sneered, “It’s going to take more than this flimsy plan to take me down, Black Widow.”

You managed to hold back a scoff. Excuse him? You were here too!

“Dispose of them,” he barked, gesturing to his guards. Then, catching the rising guns next to him, he added, “Jesus, do it quietly you morons! The last thing I need is the entire Avengers team on my back. Just do enough damage to teach them a lesson.”

With that, he turned and was escorted away, leaving you and Natasha surrounded. Your eyes met hers, a mutual understanding passing between you as you positioned yourselves back-to-back almost immediately.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” you said, amused, as the guards advanced with electric gauntlets and other shiny gadgets. “Black Widow and Raven fighting side by side? Please.” You snickered, shifting into a defensive stance.

Natasha hummed in response, her tone cool but slightly teasing. “Just try to keep up.”

You smiled faintly as the familiar spark of your usual banter flickered back to life. Perhaps not everything was ruined after all.

“Oh, you’ve got it twisted, Widow,” you shot back with a smirk, echoing her words from earlier that evening. “You’ll be the one trying to keep up with me.”

It could have been the wind, but you swore you heard her chuckle.

Time for the second dance of the night. 

[smoothoper44tor]

Enemies on the papers, lovers in the shadows

(🔖) Pairing: Jenson Button x male reader

Face claim: Andy Samberg

(🔖) Summary: The McLaren boys go from enemies to lovers during the 2010 season. Apparently, they just needed to blow some steam of.

(🔖) Warnings: use of bad words, degradation, internalised homophobia (kinda), free homophobia f1, suggestive, mentions of hate sex.

masterlist | part two…

27 November 2009 . . .

NEWS

Jenson Button on joining fellowship driver Paolo Primo in McLaren for the next 2010 season.

Both drivers had a very intense rivalry this season, having a very close fight for the championship. Primo failed in winning the championship by 32 points. He assured unfair penalisation, which was, according to him once again, Button’s fault, made him lose.

Button and Primo made several displays of hate between each other during press conferences and interviews. Still, Button is “very intrigued in what will this new season bring him”, and alleges he “couldn’t be more happy to be teammates with Paolo [Primo], I love that guy”

More info • you might also like . . .

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26 March 2010 . . .

NEWS

Paolo Primo and alleged girlfriend, Joanna Newsom, arriving the Paddock (Melbourne, Australia)

Primo arrived this morning for the first practice along his alleged girlfriend. He hasn’t confirmed being in a relationship, yet they have being seen together in several occasions, being one the Bahrain Grand Prix last week.

He was asked about relationship with teammate Jenson Button after crash in the Bahrain GP, Button was able to keep driving, finishing 7th, but Primo ended DNFing due to damage from the crash. He dismissed the question instantly: “Childs can only act like childs” he said.

Paolo and Jenson were seen having an argument. He was later seen with Lewis Hamilton and Robert Kubica, Renault drivers this season, to not talk to Jenson again for the rest of the morning.

"Get the fuck out, Button" Paolo hissed, barely looking at the blond man. Jenson had sneaked into his drivers room, catching Paolo by surprise while changing into his driving clothes.

"C´mon Pao, don´t be boring" cheekiness brigthed his expression. He kept on trying to get close to the american. Paolo pulled his shirt up, blue eyes glued at him. "I came to check on you" He finally gulped.

"T´thing is I don´t want to fucking see you" Paolo punched the other´s chest with the fireproof in his hand. Jenson could do nothing but back off, his wide smile as a proof he was pleased with the touch. "Seriously, I´m not in the mood" He pronounced each word roughly.

"Stop acting all grumpy, I´m sure we can work this out"

"Work this out! Are ya´ fucking kidding me?" He got closer with each word "I tried to ‘work this out’, and you’ve fucking with me since first day" Jenson was unable to keep his eyes away from him, they were so close. Eyes, lips, eyes, lips, eyes... "Making fun of me, talk shit behind ma´back, fucking my race. My race Jen-" lips. Every word abandoned his mind as Jenson´s hand caressed his curls. His back muscles clenched when the british’s left hand found his waist. The hand curved perfectly against him, shameless teases into his skin. Right when the hand found the curve to his ass Paolo pushed him, not hard enough for them to separate, but rough enough for Jenson to slow down with a desperate breath.

"You kissed me" An amused expression in the curly haired man "Who the fuck kisses in tha’ middle of a fight" Jenson smiled dizzily.

"Things were heating up" He said smugly, the smile on his face growing wider "I didnt figure that girlfriend of yours would mind" That little piece of shit, of course he knew. The team was forcing him into a relationship, good sponsoring they said. Paolo thought nobody would know except his team.

"God, you are an asshole" his hands pushed Jenson against the door of the room hesitant.

"Am I?" The curly haired shallow, ignoring unsuccessfully all the thoughts that run in his head.

"Shut up"

"Man, where were you?" Kubica screamed for his attention as Paolo made his way out of the McLaren motor home. Both Renault drivers looked at him, Robert wearing a cap weirdly and Lewis drinking from his bottle.

"Drivers room, getting ready an´all" he held the racing suit, adjusting the clothing to his waist.

"Having some fun or what?" The older man eyed his neck. Paolo heated up, thinking he had hide the red, now turning purple, spot.

"Uhm, yeah. Having fun" he mumbled. Lewis laughed.

"Hilarious. What a piece you are"

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28 August 2010 . . . (Belgium gp)

paoprimo54

❤️ liked by jensonbutton, mclaren and others

Hello Instagram?

comments

user5: he’s so baby girl

jensonbutton: he likes them big

⤷ user5: wow, I wasn’t expecting that

⤷ user2: and he’s talking about en sandwiches right

⤷ user66: be so fcking for right I just knew they banged each other after Australia.

user3: IM GOING INSANE HEs SO BEAUTIFUUUUL 🎀😩

user9: Jensons comments is insane

⤷ user8: those two have the hots for each other

user12: the man you are pao, the man you are 😔

mclaren

❤️ liked by paoprimo54, kimiraikonnen and others

Both of our drivers will renew their contract next year. We’re very proud to count with these young talents, and are be ready to work on the constructors and teams championships!! (tagged: jensonbutton, paoprimo54)

comments

paoprimo54: Looking forward to our relationship together!!

⤷ jensonbutton: Sure you do Pao

user6: IM LOVING THIS MCLAREN ERA 🤭

user23: 💪🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

user9: Lovely team, lovely duo

⤷ user47: destructive duo*

jensonbutton: 💪💪💪

⤷ paoprimo54: shut up nutcase 😘

“God” he lets out a heavy sigh. Both of them naked in the hotel room. All windows were open and a lean blanket covered them dramatically “We should do this more often” Jenson looked beautiful with his dumb characteristic smiled, all flustered.

“What? Screwing in my hotel room?” Paolo laughs, resting his head in his right bicep.

“Yeah, but-” Jenson laughs at his little joke “not what I meant. You and I”

“Are you asking me out honey?” The derision in his tone was more than obvious, but the blond melted with the pet name, every little piece of attention melting his skin lovely.

“I am” The American saw Jenson stand up in his elbows just to see his face better “Do you want to go out with me?” A little smile crawling into his face.

“I don’t know Jense” Paolo knew nothing good could come out of that, they could be seen, filmed, but a little voice in the back of his head whispered prayers for him to accept.

“Italian food” Jense’s smile grew back again because he knew Paolo wouldn’t say no to his favourite food.

“Italian huh?” He bitted his lip annoyed “Shit, fine”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ｡･ੈ✩‧₊˚

16 November 2010 . . .

skysports

❤️ liked by sebastianvettel, joannanwesom and others

Paolo Primo winner of the Constructors Championship of 2010 with McLaren. He is the first American winner since Mario Andretti in 1978 and first Jew to win a Championship since Jody Scheckter in 1979. After two DNF’s and a rough time getting along with his teammate, Primo scored the most points, being followed very close by Sebastian Vettel Red Bull’s new acquisition.

comments have been restricted

markwebber: Amazing brother💪💪💪

jensonbutton: Very deserved ❤️!

joannanewsom: ❤️❤️❤️

feralonsoofficial: Well done Paolo 💪😘

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6 June 2024 . . .

paoprimo54

❤️ liked by jensonbutton, pedrodelarosa and others

I’ve heard there’s been a lot of talking about mine and Jense’s relationship, has been for 15 years. I just wanted to clarify that we did in fact hate each other for long eight years, buuuuut we just needed to blow some steam and now we’re very close (that’s our kid in the last one).

comments

user1: definitely not on my 2024 bingo

⤷ user1: not complaining tho

markwebber: Proud of you guys!

user2: PAO N JENSE HUSBANDS CONFIRMED 💕💍👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

sebastianvettel: 💪❤️

lewishamilton: Baby Lou looks beautiful!

user3: this is actually my Roman Empire

joannanewsom: ❤️

user5: my favourite gays

⤷ user8: best enemies to lovers fr fr

user13: And during pride month… The way I love u Paolo

logansargeant: Happy pride month I guess lol💪

⤷ paoloprimo54: hahah ❤️

[praetoravila]

SPILL YOUR GUTS MAGAZINE'S DANICA LANE GETS THE EXCLUSIVE FROM SINGER MACIE BEFORE HER 6TH ALBUM RELEASE: - More to follow under the cut.

{ TW for mentions of abuse and an attempted sexual assault. If you feel uncomfortable with these topics, feel free to skip this article and look at one of our beauty guides! }

taglist: @myloveforhergoeson @ceruleanmusings @raging-violets @bibaybe @rose-of-oz @ithinkyouhealedmyheart @nolanhollogay @happinessismagicc @kendelias @selangkir

At just 20-years-old, Macie formerly known by her legal name, Macie Smittens-Garcia, is the new “pop punk princess” on the scene.

Born in Savannah Georgia, but raised in Wilmington Island, the Georgian native has always been a musician - since she was a baby.

“My first words were me asking my older sister Maeve to put on Bills Bills Bills by Destiny’s Child.” Macie said, laughing as she remembered.

“Only I couldn’t pronounce my B’s yet, so it sounded like I was saying Dills Dills Dills.”

Music has always been a big part of Macie’s life, from her roots in beauty pageants to getting signed by Rocque Records at age 13. Since then, she’s released 5 albums, with another on the way.

“Twinkle Lights, is truly an album about self discovery. About knowing who I am. I mean it’s the first album I sing in Spanish on. Which was a big deal for me. I’m proud to be Boricua. It’s part of my heritage. The same way, being Scottish and German are.”

“Culture is important to me. I’m a punk girl, yes, but before that I am Afro-Latina. And that’s a big deal in this genre.” Macie explained, before elaborating.

“Pierce The Veil were some of the only Latinos in the rock genre that I knew of initially. And so, I’m very conscious that I am playing a similar part for young Latina girls.”

“For the longest time, I was scared to be my authentic self in this industry.” Macie said, as she elaborated. “And that put me into a lot of uncomfortable, unsafe situations. Twinkle Lights, is me getting to be authentic, and talk about some of my struggles, and why I am the way I am.”

Macie talked candidly about the sexual assault attempt that she mentions in the title track of the album.

Twinkle Lights, the title track opens with the lyrics of, At 14 years old I finally had to say No, and at 14 years old I finally had to let go. Prior to this song, and the album as a whole, Macie had never spoken about this incident.

“I didn’t have the words at the time to explain what had happened to me. And I struggled with that for a really long time, because I had the words to explain my mom’s behaviour.” she said, referring to her mother Amber Smittens, who is publically known for being Macie’s abuser from age 3 to age 7.

“I knew what CPTSD or childhood post traumatic stress disorder was. I didn’t know what this was.”

“But I didn’t have those words for the situation I went through at 14, or what I went through as a 19-year-old.”

“But with this album, I get to. And that’s a big accomplishment. In, Innocent Party, track two, I have a lyric that goes, The road to recovery was a long one, in case you wanna know, which was honestly mostly a line I came up with after seeing stuff people were saying online about me.”

“I was in such a bad place mentally, and knowing people were saying such shit about me made me so mad. They kept referring to me as an innocent party, as if they pitied me, and well... I got a song out of it at least!” Macie explained, a laugh forming.

The Puerto Rican-American girl continued on to talk about how fame messed with her self perception.

“It’s hard when everyone has an idea of who you are. Just because they listened to your music, or because they follow you on ScuttleButter. Which I have a very calculated version of myself out there for a reason. So when I’m able to be just Macie, it can be quite jarring.”

The interview which was done in Reseda, at Macie's first LA apartment, showed a different side to the singer than fans have seen. A softer, more vulnerable side. A side, that anyone who listens to Twinkle Lights, which is scheduled to come out on Macie's birthday in a few days, will see.

[randomtacoscry]

WIP Wednesday

I’m BACK bitches (bros and nonbinary hoes <3)! I FINALLY wrote something for my fic and thought I’d share it here! Enjoy!! (There’s more after the break)

Specs: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw/Jake “Hangman” Seresin - Words: 3,120

Bradley wakes that night. He can feel the carrier sway with the force of the sea as he sits up in the dark room. He turns to look for the other pilot but once again, he’s gone.

“Where the hell are you going?” Bradley mutters to himself and he feels himself growing increasingly more interested in whatever the cocky pilot fills his early mornings with. He’s been gone almost every night for the past two weeks, but every morning, he manages to be back in their shared room, alive and ready for the day.

“It’s stupid.” Bradley hasn’t gotten up (or at least been able to get himself out of the room to find the other man) yet and he wasn’t going to tonight. It was dumb; just another way for Seresin to goad Bradley into showing that he maybe gives a shit about what the pilot may be up to- and he really doesn’t, he’s just wondering. Bradley falls back to the stiff mattress and pulls the thin sheet back over him. Taking a deep breath, Bradley can feel his eyes getting heavier and he’s fine going back to sleep. Right? Seresin- the guy doesn’t matter. Bradley’s had times where he couldn’t sleep… Although that doesn’t mean sneaking out of his shared room to do god knows what.

“Ughhh.” Bradley moans to himself, bringing his hands to his face. Fuck it. He throws on a thin gray shirt before heading out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The carrier is pretty much dead silence on this level; the only thing filling the air is the sound of Bradley’s soft breaths as he makes his way through the long halls. Any noises are reserved for the radio and engine rooms which are both located much farther back on the carrier. Bradley makes his way up to the hanger deck, navigating the slim steps and hallways with ease after so many months here. With the room’s exposure to the elements, the air is cooler- a swift breeze moves through the space and Bradley makes out a figure, his form silhouetted only by the waves reflecting the moon’s light. Bradley doesn’t notice that he can recognize the man from the way his shoulders are built, chiseled yet rounded, and how the tight fit of his shirt pronounces the curve of his waist and all the other factors that Bradley would kick himself for thinking of.

Bradley makes his way over to the man before he can change his mind. He hesitates- Seresin can’t sense him yet- his body more relaxed than Bradley’s ever seen them, his breaths coming and going in a slow, deep rhythm. He seems different here.

“What brings you out here?” The second Bradley breaks the silence, the other pilot’s shoulders tense and Bradley can feel the man force himself to turn only slightly, making sure he doesn’t seem startled.

“Could ask you the same.” He turns his face back to the endless blue and Bradley matches the pilot’s pose, leaning his arms on the railing, and breathing in the salty breeze.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bradley offers because maybe it’s not so hard to be somewhat cordial to the guy- olive branch and everything. Seresin nods before taking another deep breath and Bradley almost begins regretting coming out here in the first place. Maybe he should go-

“Me neither.” He’s quiet but the waves aren’t loud enough for Bradley to miss the words. He almost wants to ask the pilot more. Or maybe mention that he’s noticed him sneaking out of their shared quarters to find a semblance of solace somewhere else- after the prospect of losing someone in the air almost became a reality- not that Bradley would ever consider the two of them to be on a solace-giving basis. They weren’t even friends. Barely acquaintances. “I keep thinking about it.”

Bradley almost misses the words being trapped in his thoughts, but at least the other pilot knows Bradley’s not stupid. He can obviously tell something is going on- what with the lack of short comments, digs, and snide remarks coming from the blond the previous weeks.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Obviously. Bradley almost feels dumb for saying it himself. Obviously Marilyn’s engine going out wasn’t Seresin’s fault but it doesn’t change the fact that he would’ve had a front row seat to something every pilot hopes against seeing if the situation had ended badly.

“I know,” He takes a breath before continuing, “I just couldn’t do anything.” Bradley meets his eyes for only a second before he quickly turns his gaze back to the black sky, only lighting the world with the full moon above and the millions of dim specs beyond. Bradley watches him; his eyes- oftentimes sage in color are now a dark forest green- flicking between the soft flow of the current and the abyss of the night sky. He swallows between breaths and his throat moves with the action, his skin tightening slightly before it relaxes once again. His hands are almost completely still; the only movement being his thumb slightly grazing the knuckles of his other hand and Bradley feels the odd urge to stop it. To grab his hand and still it, if only for a single moment, from the restlessness of the pilot’s thoughts. He’s good at it. Pretending he’s fine; only slightly cracking this facade in the middle of the night to get some air. Bradley hates that he almost couldn’t tell.

Years.

Years of practice with people who constantly pretended everything was okay until the lie blew up in their faces and Bradley was part of the collateral. He should know how to spot someone who hides. Not just behind some mask but parts of themselves as well. Seresin may be something asshole-adjacent and it may get on Bradley’s nerves occasionally, but he’s not blind to the fact that the man is hiding something. Bradley just knows it’s not exactly his place. Maybe Javy’s. But not Bradley’s.

“Well you did something.” Bradley speaks while turning his gaze away from the blond and can feel the man look at him curiously. “I mean, you flew him in.” Bradley hears a light scoff and lets himself look back at Seresin’s disbelief.

“He would’ve made it anyway.” The man plays modesty; a role Bradley is somewhat surprised he knows of.

“You were almost out of gas.” Bradley nods knowingly and the younger pilot just shakes his head.

“Ah, well, I don’t expect you to know what it’s like livin’ on the edge.” A twang of a southern accent peaks through as he speaks and it reminds Bradley of home. Maybe he should take the comment as an insult of some kind- on brand for the fellow pilot- but it more so reminds Bradley of the stupid jokes and railery that filled his mom’s home when his dad’s old friends would come to visit. It’s nostalgic and almost embarrassingly comforts Bradley more than it offends him.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bradley goads Seresin, feigning nonchalance and the other pilot turns towards him scoffing.

“What would you call it?”

“Reckless.” Bradley faces the man straight on and while he may mean that, it’s not necessarily in a bad way. At least not in the situation a few weeks ago. Sure- it was a dumb risk, but he assisted another pilot in getting back to the carrier at his expense. Maybe Bradley just didn’t want to say selfless. “You were reckless.”A slow smile finds its way onto Seresin’s face and of course the guy’s taking it as a full blown compliment.

“Well, Bradshaw,” He adds his southern drawl back onto Bradley’s name and he almost likes how it sounds on the man’s tongue, “sometimes it’s good to do something reckless.” Bradley doesn’t miss how Seresin’s eyes glide up his body before landing on his face; sizing him up in a way. “Could help you loosen up.” He says it as an afterthought, with a smirk, and there’s something inside of Bradley that feels like he’s not fully understanding the other man’s implications. The man doesn’t wait for a response, instead heading back into the hanger to their shared room.

Bradley was raised by almost two polar opposites; two complimentary, complete opposites. One reckless, the other… Well, he didn’t like to think much about either of them. Reckless? Loosen up? Bradley was fine the way he was. He managed to become one of the best pilots in the Navy almost incomprehensibly quick due to the lifetime of knowledge he’s had since he was two. He’s done perfectly fine playing by the rules and following the books. He didn’t need recklessness to live. To loosen up. To fly. He could do that on his own, by himself, as he’s had to do everything since becoming a pilot. So Seresin could have his recklessness- and maybe end up hurting someone in the process.

That’s what it did.

It hurts people.

Only now Bradley wasn’t so sure it was just one of them who was reckless. Maybe neither of them thought of any of the shit they did- and it nearly killed Bradley himself. To witness, to experience, to remember. Fuck. Bradley needed to sleep- and quieting his mind of memories of his past was beginning to seem more and more tempting.

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/737064447605096448/i-really-wish-my-countries-wannabe-queer#notes

To all the poor anglophones who feel personally offended that my languages does not do well with words starting with X in this case neopronouns, I deeply apologize from the bottom of my heart that my language doesn't use English pronunciations. How dare we not cater to the English speaking world? Afterall, they did their best to make the entire world speak it, how mean of us. And that because of that you felt so deeply offended that we find the use of x-based pronouns in our language to be complete shit because they simply do not work with our spoken language.

Foolish was it of me to expect people to infer the fact that I was indeed not speaking of the English language when I mentioned the issues with the flow of the language, and how people actually affected have at large found their own pronouns, -none of which include the X-pronouns because they simply are not that well suited for our languages phonetics nor even the writing-, and the fact that I mentioned "My country" and "the flow of the language" which could have been a simple clue that I'm not speaking of an English speaking country. Nay instead you built a straw-man and got angry because you really don't like remembering that the rest of the world exists. For anyone who's not so super special and does realize humans exist outside the English speaking world. THANK YOU FOR NOTICING! Geez.

I honest to God should've expected to see some people with those bottom of the barrel arguments, because those are so similar to the arguments the dreaded "my countries wannabe "queer representatives"" use constantly, while ignoring how people using NEUTRAL PRONOUNS actually decide their pronouns. (Which you'd call neopronouns, because they're neither male nor female nor objectifying, so NEUTRAL)

As to how the pronouns like Xie/Xir sound, you would have to specifically pronounce the X like you would when reciting the alphabet, then leave a pause, and then you have a choice of about 4-5 sounds you can just throw on. There is basically literally no way to use any of the X-pronouns because the letter X isn't used like that in our language, and the combination would just lead to random sound thrown in at the end.

There is a reason why languages don't all share the universal same spelling for pronouns, because languages have their own rules on writing, pronunciation, phonetics and how to understand all that. Why would you ever assume this won't also apply to neopronouns/neutral pronouns anyway? Ok, then your neopronounsin the Anglosphere are X-based, do you really think those will work in every language and will be useable in every other language? Or are you just so used to everyone being anglophone you never considered that some languages will just not be able to use them? Do you also think everyone in this world uses the term "neopronouns"? Just asking while we're at it.

--

[liviavanrouge]

Actor AU: Name

Livia: *Looks at her comments* How do you say who's name

Commenter: How do you say Danell's name?

Livia: Why are you asking....

Commenter: Meraki always says his name wrong in his voice lines

Livia: ....hold up..

Livia: *Walks to her rooms door* MERAKI!!! BRING YOUR ASS HERE!!

Livia: *Walks over and grabs her phone, setting it up as Meraki came in*

Meraki: Yeah

Livia: How do you say it?

Meraki: Hm?

Livia: You heard me, how do you pronounce it

Meraki: How do I pronounce what!?

Livia: You know what I'm talking about, what is his name?

Meraki: Who snitched to you? That's what I wanna know...

Livia: Don't worry about that.

Meraki: No..

Livia: Answer the question

Meraki: Nooo

Livia: Answer the question...

Meraki: NOOO!

Meraki: Who the FUCK snitched!??

Livia: You can go back on my live reply, I don't give a shit!

Livia: HOW do you say his NAME

Meraki: It's Darnell, like the regular name

Meraki: It's not DANELL! DANELL!? DAMN HELL!?

Meraki: So dumb!

Livia: Do y- *Coughs* Do you know WHY, his name is Danell?

Meraki: No...

Livia: Because it's the closest thing to Diablo! Say it slowly and you can kinda hear it!

Meraki: Thats- that's- that's dumb...

Meraki: I don't like it...

Livia: You thought his name was Darnell! That is the dumbest sh- WHERE IS THE R!?

Meraki: NOOO

Livia: WHAT DO YOU MEAN "NO"!?

Meraki: It's not the R, it's the way it sounds!

Livia: YOU'VE HEARD OTHERS SAY HIS NAME!!

Meraki: No! Don't do this to me!! He's part of the NRC Family!

Livia: HE'S CLEARLY NOT PART OF IT ENOUGH FOR YOU TO PRONOUNCE HIS NAME RIGHT!!!

Meraki: This is breaking me inside!

Meraki: I care about Darnell!!!

Livia: IT'S DANELL!!!!!

Meraki: He is our family awakening!!!

Livia: It awakened to you being able to not fucking pronounce names correctly!!

Meraki: I can't handle this right now!!!

Livia: What the fuck!? What are you gonna have him sing a song!?

Meraki: DANELL IS SO DUMB!!!!

Livia: OHHH but Darnell isn't!??

Livia: Darnell is the name of an upcoming character, girl...

Meraki: No! N-N-N-N-No!!

Meraki: It's like NORMALIZED! Darnell!

Meraki: Oh, can you just imagine-

Livia: No.

Livia: Did you even read your script correctly?

Meraki: ......yeah...

Livia: CLEARLY YOU FUCKING DIDN'T!!!

Livia: OUR SHIT IS AT ARC SIX! SEVEN!? AND SEVERAL EVENTS WHERE HIS NAME IS MENTIONED AND SAID!!

Livia: AND THE WHOLE TIME!!!

Livia: Ah yes! Mama Aolani! Mama- Oh sorry! For her it's not Aolani! It's Oolani!!

Meraki: Liv-!

Livia: It's not fucking Godric! It's Gadric!!

Livia: Fucking Kage is Kag!! Like THE FUCK!?

Meraki: Yeah, it has a little bit of spice! Can you imagine moaning Danell!? It's so bad!

Livia: BUT MOANING DARNELL!??

Meraki: Yeah! *Snickers* A little better!

Livia: YOU EVEN DON'T BELIEVE THE WORDS YOU'RE SAYING!!!!

~~~~

Livia: Question for you Epel, before we start

Meraki: *Sighs*

Livia: Shut up, Meraki.

Livia: You remember the bird professor part of the game, the one Crowley hired because they're friends?

Epel: Yeah, how could I forget him...

Livia: What's his name, the professor

Epel: The multiple toe Raven dude?

Livia: Yeah, yeah yeah! The multi-toe dude! Yeah! What's his name?

Epel: Danell

Livia: YEAH! THANK YOU! That's what I THOUGHT!

Meraki: Noooo! Epel no...

Epel: WHAT!?

Livia: NOW! I need you to HEAR how Meraki says the name Danell!

Livia: Go ahead! Hit him with it!!

Meraki: *Sighs* His name is Darnell!

Epel: HAHAHAHA!

Livia: *Laughs, looking away*

Epel: Oh it is gonna be Kag and Oolani~!

Meraki: DANELL!! DAMN HELL!? That's so- it's not hot!!

Meraki: Darnell has a little MWAH!

Epel: I don't think EITHER are hot to be honest with you, like both are kinda uhhhh y'know

Meraki: Listen...beggars can't be choosers! I'll take what I can get!

Livia: Well...if I'mma chooser then I'm choosing Danell over Darnell!

Meraki: Danell is so baaaaad

~~~~

Danell: *Chuckles, watching them argue on Livias stream* This is entertaining

Crowley: *Laughs* Agreed!!

@queen-of-twisted @yukii0nna @zexal-club @soulfungai @teddymochi

[ferromagnetiic]

Does anyone in your crew get a pass to act chummy with other pirates outside of your crew? Like the Strawhats or Shanks?

The question brings with it an immediate air of hostility; umbrage, displayed in tensed brow and teeth bared in a snarl like a taunted dog. The mention of Red Hair's name could only be used as bait to provoke him into an impassionate rage. They knew what they were doing by bringing him up in the context of hypothetical companionship; this was a pointed attempt to piss him off, and it was inevitable it would be effective. Kid wonders if he should even bother following through with clarification, when the dead don't have any use for exposition. Tempting as it may be to answer the matter with bloodshed, he'll hold back the urge with both hands gripping his temper's leash. He'll take that hanging bait, and he'll sink his canines into it for the sake of not looking like a pushover who's lenient with his crew gallivanting off with whomever they may please. Hell, maybe some of his men could do with a refresher on how things operate under his command. He knows exactly what this is about; a certain golden-eyed Straw Hat who's found herself a comfortable spot in his bed.

❝ Ya come to my face and start askin' questions about how I look after my men, yer gonna go home in a coffin. Ya got some damn fuckin' nerve. ❞

The threat is punctuated with a pronounced scoff.

❝ Ya think I let my crew walk all over me? Ya think I don't have anythin' to say about them running off with the enemy whenever they want? Nah, this ain't playtime anymore. ❞

When he speaks, Kid's voice is low; austere, unyielding. This is not an open debate, and nothing he says it up for further discussion.

❝ Most important thing to me is honesty. Maybe we ported at some island, bumped into another crew; maybe one of my boys found some pretty thing he wants to take to bed. I'm not gonna stop him if he's upfront about that. I just don't want any affiliations being kept secret from me. I don't like my men sneakin' around behind my back, doing shit they don't want me knowin' about. It's not a good look if I catch ya runnin' off with the enemy without a word. ❞

If they were open about the friendship, he was a lot more willing to be compliant with them spending time together. Trust and loyalty were quick to break, and practically impossible for Kid to rebuild once lost. No matter how innocent their intentions may be, if he discovered someone on his crew had been maintaining a secret relationship with their rival, it would be cause for him to be alarmed. Though he trusted each and every one of the members of his crew with his life, he didn't trust others with an ounce; he needed to know who to hunt down if anyone went missing, and who would need to compensate with blood if anyone was hurt.

❝ Thing is, if one of my men gets attacked, I expect him to be able to defend himself. If he can't, I'll have to step in and do it for him. Either way, if shit goes south and that partnership turns sour, I ain't willing to lose one of my crew over it. It's kill or be killed. Backstabbers don't get second chances, and I wanna know who was holdin' the knife. ❞

Everyone on this side of the ocean was out for blood. He couldn't afford to let his guard down; not when he knew the colossal damage misguided trust could do firsthand.

Power dynamics were always at the forefront of Kid's mind, with the stronger members of his crew being granted the most freedom. If Killer, Heat, or Wire, for example, were to inform him that they were spending some spare time with a rival crew member, Kid wouldn't being opposed to it. When he didn't perceive a rival pirate to be a threat, he didn't believe there was much to be concerned about. They had earned their status as his strongest men, and he wouldn't condescend them by fussing over their safety when he knew they could handle themselves. When the power balance was in favor of the enemy, however, he tended to be more wary.

A pause, then, somewhat stiff; grumbled words, like he's coming clean about something he doesn't particularly enjoy admitting, though he considered the statement valuable enough to verbalize.

❝ 'Sides. Ya can't pair all our rivals together into one pot. Ya come here actin' like 'salright to get buddy-buddy with Red Hair's men; fuck that, 'course it bloody ain't. Fact is, Straw Hat handles shit differently. We're still rivals, but as long as ya don't hurt his crew, he ain't gonna bother us. ❞

[deuxcherise]

Operation YAN

C/w: Imagination station, woo. Fake humans, mentions of government, unhealthy behavior, mentions of murder, mentions of pedophilia, mentions of homophobia, mentions of other sexualities, mentions the word "love" a lot, mentions sacrilegious things (making fun of religion, kind of? All in good fun, of course), no beta we die like men

A/n: So I was thinking–I know, such a dangerous occupation–but I was thinking, I want to write a universe much like that one genshin doll au (good lord, why is that when I can't find what I'm looking for until I'm not looking for it???) or any hypotheticals. It's probably already done before but I still wanna write it. Masterlist

It started with an idea.

Jesus (pronounced hay-SOOS)–Yes, that was the name of the man who changed the world–Alfaro was listening to a good friend of his going on and on about his ex-girlfriend, who left him for various reasons.

His friend clicked his tongue. “Man, if only I wasn't such a dumbass… But then I wouldn't be such a dumbass if she wasn't such a dumb bi–”

A light bulb lit up in Jesus's head. What if I were to biomedically engineer the perfect woman for my friend? he thought.

It sounds unrealistic how this idea came about, but to be fair, this rendition was passed down for generations.

Jesus had a biomedical degree sitting on the back burner for several years now since he couldn't find any work. AI had already taken over most of the available jobs. For Jesus and his friend, the last time they saw a human worker in a fast food restaurant or a construction worker was probably when they were in middle school. Jesus was only able to pay for the ridiculously expensive tuition from a lottery scholarship, and he had to work twice as hard as any human in history just to graduate since most of his classmates were AI bots (why AI felt the need to subject their own to school life is beyond anyone's understanding).

Anyway, back to the point. He decided to make use of his biomedical degree and scrounge up all kinds of materials to make his idea happen, from flasks to dials to an incubator. This process included gathering a few samples from his friend, such as hair, saliva, blood, urine, and genital fluids.

“Bro, that's gay.”

“Dude, don't you want the perfect woman though?”

His friend clicked his tongue. “Shit. Fine. Just… just give me a several minutes.”

It only took a minute for Jesus to get a semen sample, but that's digressing from the story.

Anyway, it took several years for Jesus to make it happen, but it happened. The perfect woman, based on his friend’s preferences, was born.

Jesus almost didn't give her up to his friend because he felt like he was giving up his daughter to a fiend. He valued his friendship, yes, but he had to admit his friend was such a dumbass when it came to women.

But miraculously, his friend became a changed man after meeting this perfect woman. Overnight, Jesus's friend became a devoted, and loyal charmer who also became the perfect husband to his wife and father to his children.

Why did this work, one may ask?

Well, Jesus had taken into account biological and sexual compatibilities when he was constructing the perfect woman for his best friend. First, he was able to somehow alter his friend's DNA, so their future children wouldn't inherit any dysfunctional genes that would shorten their lifespan or quality of life. This also eliminated the idea of incest, despite this perfect woman being constructed utilizing his friend's DNA, since Jesus had to make many, many, many adjustments to his friend's sperm to change it into a viable egg. It would've been far easier if Jesus could have secured an egg sample from a willing woman, but the idea of his friend copulating with what is essentially his female self was far better than… well, a “daughter”. Leave it to Jesus to look out for his friend. 👍

Jesus was not initially an ambitious man, but his friend would brag about his love life to anyone who would listen. This led to Jesus gaining attention, both good and bad attention. There was a point where Jesus had to give birth to several perfect women for a notorious gang who threatened to kill his loved ones.

It was easier this time to grow a woman in a lab, since he already had the knowledge. However, the same thing that happened to his friend happened again to these gang members. These vicious beasts became the most upstanding citizens he had ever seen after they were given their own perfect woman. It was like the power of love performs miracles.

That's when it started the flame of his ambition, and he began to seek out all of the resources and connections he could to continue performing these miracles. The government caught on and decided to collaborate with Jesus in order to combat the world's falling population numbers.

And so, Operation YAN was launched.

The initial batch targeted young, straight men who displayed too much maiden-less behavior to get and keep a lady–much like Jesus's friend. Instead of being upfront about the whole process, the government decided to plant Jesus's women into places these men would most likely frequent, such as adjacent houses making them neighbors.

Most of the women were kind of similar, which may be a result of the targeted men being similar. Friendly, loving, affectionate–so affectionate since they were born to love that these biologically engineered women were codenamed “Your Affectionate Neighbor” aka YAN.

Of course, success was expected and received. However, it may have worked too well…

These biologically engineered women were born to love, but humans are very complex creatures. Not only because these women were born literally days old as adults instead of growing up like natural human women, but because they were constructed to love only their target. Their target, of course, fell in love with them truly but they have their own lives too, whereas these YANs don’t. And the idea of their target leaving them or paying more attention to someone else was far too much for them to handle, that there became cases where these YANs would mercilessly kill anyone they perceived as love rivals.

Since most of these victims tended to be other women, Operation YAN extended to producing male YANs for single straight women in order to combat these jealousy allegations. Eventually this operation expanded their production to include producing YANs for homosexual, bisexual, asexual, etc people since apparently these YANs get jealous way too easily when it comes to meeting a person who is single. Love comes in all shapes and sizes, so having a platonic YAN by your side is better protection than not having one! 😀

Nowadays, you can even have a YAN that grows up with you–Pardon? That branch was discontinued due to general discomfort, pedophilic allegations and child murders? Of course, of course. Apologies, folks. Due to potential abuse of these YANs (whether you consider them human or not) and various ethical reasons, you must be an adult at the legal age of 25 to receive your very own YAN.

Why 25? That's because you can only receive one YAN in your lifetime! And it is very important that the details and preferences you fill out on your paperwork are very, very thought out.

Speaking of which, if you want to get your own YAN today, log into your personal tablet and fill out the required electronic work. Here is a preview:

You must be 25 and older to be legible to receive your very own YAN.

You must sign and print your first name, middle name (if applicable), and surname in all of the indicated boxes, to ensure your informed consent. You must also write down your Social Security number and your permanent address in all of the indicated boxes.

You must completely fill out your personality quiz to the best of your ability.

You must completely fill out your ideal type to the best of your ability.

You will be required to be fingerprinted and photographed for recognition purposes.

You will be required to supply a blood sample, a hair sample, a saliva sample, a urine sample, and a discharge sample from your genitals (if applicable–if you do not have genitals, then you do not need to provide this particular sample). We will have licensed doctors provided for you if need be.

Failure to complete all of the above properly will result in the negation of this application.

Finally, once you place your application, there are no refunds.

Allow us to repeat: ATTENTION!! THERE ARE NO TAKEBACKS. RETURNS ARE IMPOSSIBLE. YOUR YAN WAS CREATED JUST FOR YOU, THEREFORE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO REUSE SAID YAN FOR ANY OTHER PURPOSE EXCEPT TO LOVE YOU. IF YOU ARE UNHAPPY WITH YOUR YAN, PLEASE MAKE THE BEST OF IT. THERE ARE MANY SOURCES AVAILABLE, INCLUDING THERAPY, ONLINE VIDEOS, AND PETS. WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR IRRESPONSIBILITY.

Thank you and have a wonderful life with your YAN. In Jesus, we trust. 😊

[evelyne-am]

April 4, 2023

day 22.

Remember when I said that Sir didn’t say a single word after our run through. Even though it was real shit, he just told us to have a good weekend. But I knew in my heart as everyone else did, that there was more to that, and that we found out as soon as we entered in our fourth week. Sir has been in a horrible mood because he hais revealed that that Run broke his heart and now he wants to change everything again. This will be the 5th change, and the third draft. I don’t know who read this but our first draft was so different with multiple first persons, I second draft was one first person and three third person is describing it. Second draft also included switching the protagonist from different ages so somebody would play the young age and somebody would play older. in the third version I did have a small speaking role, the smallest one but I was playing it for the purpose of rehearsal for the past two weeks. But today it is announced that the Messyness of multiple roles and multiple dialogues is getting too much he is cutting it out to be simpler and and the multiple actors for one role is possibly going to be cut. Before the acting and casting things happen, though, Sir changes the entire choreography that we have been working all over the last couple of weeks but actually we were almost getting down. Remember the Burpee‘s thing that’s already gone don’t know if that’s good or bad I was kind of getting fond of it. But God damn do I love it when he changes things. I get to see how his mind works when he adds suctracts and move things around. The intro is now absolutely stunning and lovely and subtle and beautiful. Spoiler alert, the first person you will see on stage is me. As we are doing the entering sequence The director is reminding me without saying anything that there were issues raised when I opted in for the play. Two things were mentioned about me being able to be in the cast; number one my posture, I have absolutely horrible posture something that I’m so ashamed of. 2 number is my pronunciation because Bangla is not my first language, but having said that I have been singing this language my whole life, even though I don’t read and write so fluently I do know how to pronounce words on stage and so I think that part is not the issue. But Sir asked me if I am to be the first person the audience sees walking onto that stage if I can retain my straight posture for the duration of the entire opening sequence which is very long. I of course say yes, and I take it as a challenge to myself to make sure that every moment of the opening sequence anyone stares at me. In fact every moment of that play anyone stares at me they will not know that I am actually hunched in person. I am painfully aware that the new changes means that many of us will be cut from our speaking scenes. The two young girls who are playing the young girl roles are not doing very well today, one of them burst of tears when Sir was point-blank asking her to commit. The other one passed into tears when she was unable to do something that he was repeatedly asking her to do. The problem with that is that Tears are a very natural reaction to biologically female beings however in a work situation it really is not acceptable. So the director was not being able to accept it, but these young girls for the lack of a better world I think this generation, is an able to take Harher commands. What happened was due to the two of them messing up, sir I got angry and said the play will be done by one person per character only. That kind of implies that my small part is also given to the protagonist who will do the play like a monologue. But truthfully as sad as I was to have that in the inevitable reality, watching him change the play so absolutely beautifully is even more thrilling than being sad about me not making a big theatrical debut.

Despite my wondrous ways of looking at this production, some of the girls were feeling very disheartened because the director was really unhappy with the way things are fairing so vibe at rehearsal is very tense right now. A part of me realises that because I have a small role I don’t have a lot of feedback, so maybe I don’t understand what they are going through, but another part of me thinks that This is what I do best, not take work things personally not take fame and fortune personally but value the art value the talent value the creation and value the absolute magic of being able to do something like this. And I feel really blessed, maybe it is because I have achieved other things that another’s eyes have deemed successful, but I don’t feel anything I’ve done is achievement worthy yet I am yet to set my actual stage. I’m still learning. And I think that’s why I can enjoy this life in this career because I know that I’m not at my peak. Wrote my first poem since I started and shared it with M, she seems to really like her. There we are so different we do share that similar passion to give up everything for work. And so we are becoming closer.

Ps this is my front door now.

[elizabethplaid]

review of my weekly call - dec 28, 2024

The funniest thing about my call with phone-friend tonight was getting to dunk on those live-action "Beauty and the Beast" dolls from a few years ago. I shared some of John's repaints and comparisons, which prompted some hearty laughs from my friend.

We talked longer than usual - 3 hours, rather than 2. They talked about watching "Tokyo Godfathers", and it was clear how much it moved them. I mentioned the "Drawing for Nothing" project, regarding abandoned animated works. The story "Dreaming Machine" was created by the same person behind "Tokyo Godfathers", Satoshi Kon.

The next project listed in that webpage was by Don Bluth, so I mentioned seeing art for his planned adaptation of "Beauty and the Beast". That led to nerding out over Megan Kearney's adaptation @batbcomic and the fairytale in general. Which brought up the live-action adaptation! Apparently, my friend was able to sit through more of it than I could. ==========

On a more personal note, we discussed holiday traditions briefly. I asked how they celebrated yule and the solstice. I mentioned my experiences with Saint Lucia's day and our half-hearted Hanukkah.

And, more vaguely, we discussed reflections on the past - how we try to be better people, how guilt can haunt us, how there's only so much of ourselves we can give to others. My friend has a very big heart and feels things quite deeply. That's part of why we connect so well, especially after we've both experienced grief. I was able to pass along lessons of reflection from counseling, and we reviewed the things we learned from that fall-out with someone back in November.

I love discussing things I've learned in counseling, even things I've had to re-learn multiple times (through experience). I lean on my friend for support a bit, but just knowing they're in my life is already such a great comfort. Being able to reciprocate is very fulfilling. =======

Ah shit, I think I left out a connecting-detail amid my meandering thought process in our conversation. They said the word "wassail" in a funny way (wass-sayl vs wass-all), so I mentioned the song. And then I brought up the Saint Stephen's day murders, trying to say that "wren" is pronounced as "ran" in the songs. Yeah, left out that last bit, oops.

We also mentioned tumblr's beloved Mari Lwyd, but neither of us can pronounce that name well, haha. ======

Since I was so absorbed in Viewfinder earlier, I didn't have time to eat dinner. I'm only now starting to notice hunger, so I shall fetch my sandwich and then browse some walk-through vids. (Dad got sub sandwiches while picking up my prescription. Thank god it's not more ham leftovers!)

[mischievouslittlecreature]

I don't think I've mentioned it before in any of my previous comments, so please just let me say, I am so damn impressed that you don't proofread your work! I would never be able to tell if I hadn't read your A/N.

Something I've really enjoyed and found super effective in your writing is how you've given us readers a similar feeling as Nina of being shut out of certain conversations. Not knowing the things that Tommy and her father are discussing in their various meetings really helps to emphasize how she--and the other women--are not treated equally especially when it comes to business. And it makes is super easy to understand Nina's feelings for frustration in being left out of those encounters.

she noticed her mother was looking at her with a strange look in her eyes

Oooooo, methinks Maria may be starting to catch onto things? 👀 Or maybe she already knows more than she's letting on?

Oh, Agnese. She's so sweet, if a little naïve. I can't help but fear that once everything between Nina and Tommy inevitably gets revealed, it's gonna ruin her and Nina's relationship 😭.

She still remembered the strange wave of panic that had gone through her when her mother had stormed into the kitchen to give her the news. The poor girl’s desperate, she had told her.

Okay, so this is just me spitballing here with my usual crazy predications, but is Agnese pregnant? 👀 Or potentially trying to hide something else through get married ASAP? That you've had this brought up twice now has the hamster wheels in my brain working 😂.

A part of her just wanted to put an end to her cousin’s rants, to tell her that there was nothing she could say about him that she didn’t know already. And that she was so, so wrong about Tommy.

Oh, I loved how you contrasted how Nina knows Tommy so much better than Agnese ever will...you always do such a great job with depicting these comparisons in a wonderfully subtle and organic way!

Because it was Agnese who would get to see every part of him, and to Nina he would become nothing more than someone she had once deluded herself she could know.

Oh, Nina, honey, you couldn't be more wrong! I doubt he'll ever be able to let Agnese in as much as he has Nina, because he won't be able to love her in the same way. And I don't believe that he'll ever forget Nina, either!

“He’s the exception.”

👀🤭 Slammed my hands on the desk over the weight and symbolism of this one line!

Stefano GET AWAY FROM HER. GET A REAL JOB. I stg I'm seconds away from stabbing him myself 😤.

Oh, I wanted to give Nina the biggest hug after that encounter with her mother. This poor girl, the absolute hurt and lasting damage she's had to go through because of her family's constant rejection of her...it really breaks my heart that she knows that who she is will never be enough for them 💔😭.

It enlightened her whole features, and Tommy couldn’t keep himself from lingering on the way her irises, hit by the sunlight, were marked by golden flecks. A pink tinge warmed her cheeks and two dimples were showing at the corners of her lips. For a moment she looked relaxed, off-guard, even.

He's so obsessed with her! But oh shit Agnese is starting to notice 😳. I sense that drama of multiple kinds is right around the corner 🫣.

“To peace,” Vincenzo said, raising his glass. But when he pronounced his next words, his eyes looked right in his daughter’s. “May we all make our choices with an open mind.”

Nina is a better person than me, because I would have probably just blown up everything right then and there 😂. Grrrrrrrrr I wanna stab both him and Stefano now.

How could they sit together and eat when everything was so wrong? How could they digest the hypocrisy? She couldn’t stand them, any of them. Now more than ever. She couldn’t stand their voices, she couldn’t stand their laughter, she couldn’t stand the way they talked and talked and talked. She hated the way they suddenly seemed inhuman. They were all hunching over their plates, chewing and slurping, the awful sounds almost painful to her ears.

This whole passage is so damn good! What a perfect description of how it feels to be both enraged and disgusted with everyone around you, as well as overstimulated.

Not on Nina, though. She was the one person he had never managed to fool. She had always been able to read right through him. Just like she was reading through him now.

Again, the way you compare and contrast all the different dynamics between the characters is masterful. How Nina's ability to see through people, to Tommy, is part of what he likes about her, because at the end of the day he desperatly does want to connect with someone and find someone who is an equal to him, meanwhile Stefano sees this as a challenge and feels that he needs to assert his dominance and power over her. It's all so well done and I applaud you for it!

Mama Maria to the rescue! I was so, so worried when Nina was left alone with Stefano! I love her so much, I don't want anything bad to happen to her ever!

Maria could only be thankful to Mr. Shelby for asking her for some more water at just the right moment.

Tommy saved her again 🥺. This little detail melted my heart. He knew she would need help with Stefano and made sure that someone would be there to get her out of it even if it couldn't be him.

In a matter of seconds she had the knife pointed at his throat, and she was unknowingly pressing the edge of the blade against the small scar that her daughter had given him a few years earlier. He clamped his jaw, keeping himself as far as he could from the blade.

YES. Ugh, this had me cheering! Maria has so many layers, and I love how you're peeling them back one by one.

Immediately on my way to read chapter 9!

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VIII

Summary: As Nina and Tommy slowly appear to come to terms with their feelings, they realise they might not be as discreet as they thought they were. An unexpected visit complicates things.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, Stefano, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: alright it has been awfully long since I last updated this, but believe me when I say I was stuck. Hopefully I’ll be more active from next week on.

As usual, there are some dialogues which are supposed to be in Italian, but I chose to write them in English for the sake of the readers (and mine, ‘cause otherwise I should’ve translated lots of stuff). I just kept some words and sentences here and there to give the idea.

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If there was one thing that Maria Ferrante took very seriously, it was the Sunday lunch. She was already up and about at dawn, free to walk from place to place in her kitchen without the rest of the family in the way. She only left it to attend Mass, and once she was home again, there was nothing that could distract her from her cooking. It was known that a good ragù needed to be cooked for hours in order to be perfect, after all.

When Nina walked into the kitchen at eleven a.m., after almost twelve hours of well-deserved sleep, the delicious smell of the sauce filled her nostrils, making her stomach growl.

“You missed church this morning,” her mother scolded her, agitating a wooden spoon in her direction.

“Did I?” She absentmindedly murmured, peeping into the pot. The boiling red sauce, mixed with the finest meat one could find in town, crackled exquisitely, appealing to her empty belly.

“This family lacks discipline,” Maria asserted, moving to cut some vegetables. “I cannot remember the last time we all went to church together. We’re losing all the good habits.”

Too captivated by her new target to pay any attention to her mother’s rants, Nina stealthily took a slice of bread from the basket on the table and put it in a plate. Then, taking advantage of her distraction, she dipped it into the pot.

“Nina!”

With a grin on her face, Nina moved away from the stove, unbothered by her mother’s curses. She took a bite from the bread, and hummed in appreciation when the sauce-covered crumb melted on her tongue. There was nothing like dipping fresh bread in ragù on Sunday mornings. However, her breakfast was soon forgotten when she caught sight of Tommy outside the kitchen, fully dressed and perfectly groomed as usual. Her father was explaining something to him, but they were too distant for her to listen to what they were talking about.

There it was, that strange, funny feeling that seemed to pervade Nina every time he was near. It had grown stronger, since what they had called their “moment of weakness”, and she could no longer lie to herself. She could no longer deny that she was intensely, inevitably drawn to him. She longed for a gaze, a word, an accidental touch, anything that could grant her a fleeting moment of connection. And she couldn’t comprehend how that man, who she had met as recently as a month ago, had managed to invade her every thought, her every desire. She had to force herself away from him. She had to push him out of her mind, so that when the time came to watch him leave, it wouldn’t hurt as much as the thought alone was hurting her now. It wasn’t right. It was fair to Agnese, it wasn’t fair to her family, and it wasn’t fair to herself. She had to let those feelings pass.

She looked away from Tommy, coming back to herself, and when she turned to her right, she noticed her mother was looking at her with a strange look in her eyes. Nina averted her gaze in discomfort, the woman’s inquisitive stare never failing to make her feel like an open book. She walked past her and put her plate in the sink, a poor attempt to escape her piercing eyes, but she could still feel them on her, following her every move. So Nina grabbed the wooden spoon, hoping that making herself useful would do the trick. “The sauce needs stirring.”

Her brothers bursted into the kitchen, diverting her mother’s attention away from her, and Nina almost breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Where have you been?” Their mother asked them, placing her hands on her waist.

“We had some things to take care of,” Pietro said, and Nina figured the vagueness of answer was an answer itself.

“On a rest day?”

“There’s no such thing as a rest day when it comes to business,” Salvatore brushed it off in a playful manner, approaching his mother to place a tender kiss on her cheek. That gesture seemed to make her soften, cause the annoyance slipped out of her face, replaced by an expression of resignation. “You look too beautiful to get angry, mum,” he continued, walking towards the stove.

“Bootlicker,” Nina mumbled, earning herself a kick behind her ankle. “Ouch!” She exclaimed in surprise, sending her brother’s way a sore look. Salvatore, in return, was blatantly smirking to himself. “Stronzo,” she spat out, giving him a shove.

“Keep your hands off me,” he shoved back.

“You started.”

“It was my foot, not my hands.”

“Enough you two,” Maria interrupted them, raising her voice. “See, this is what I mean when I say that this family lacks discipline,” she said to no one in particular.

With the shadow of the smirk still present on his face, Salvatore brought his index in front of his mouth. “Quiet,” he teasingly whispered.

Feeling her blood boil, Nina raised the wooden spoon in the air in a silent threat, but Pietro was quick to take it from her hand. Clearly, he didn’t trust his sister to restrain herself from actually using it. Nina inhaled deeply, telling herself that the angrier she got, the more Salvatore would find satisfaction in bothering her. Much to her luck, her brothers soon decided that the content of the pot was way more deserving of their attention. Making sure their mother was too distracted to stop them, they took a slice of bread each and dipped it in the sauce.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Maria snapped, putting down the knife she was using. With long steps, she walked over to her children. “Out,” she ordered, pushing all three of them towards the door. “No discipline, no discipline at all.”

Vincenzo Ferrante, who just like Tommy had heard all the commotion, shook his head in a mixture of resignation and disapproval at the sight of his snickering children getting out of the kitchen. Concealing his embarrassment, he murmured some excuses to his guest, half relieved by the fact that at least he hadn’t been able to understand the foolish reasons of that fuss.

“Nina!”

Shit. Nina squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, still with her back to the very reason why she had tried to get back into her house as fast as she could. She didn’t have the stomach to face her cousin, not after what she had done, not with the things that she had been hiding from her. That she was still hiding. She had stabbed in the back the only person in her family who had ever shown her an ounce of recognition, who had treated her like a person and not like some bad seed to be rogued out. But maybe that’s exactly what she was. A bad seed.

“Hi,” she faked surprise, turning to face her.

“What have you been up to?” Agnese asked her, adjusting the empty basket she was carrying on her hip. “Feels like you’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not,” Nina replied, maybe a bit too quickly. “I’ve been… busy,” she lied, the pathetic excuse making her feel even worse.

“My mum asked me to go buy some groceries, and I need someone to accompany me,” Agnese said, seemingly oblivious to her cousin’s fib. “I was going to ask Rosa, but why don’t you come with me?”

“Sure.”

Truth was, Nina didn’t want to go. How could she keep on talking to Agnese, spending time with her, all while pretending she hadn’t done something awful to her? And what made her despise herself even more was that guilt wasn’t the only reason why she didn’t want to see her. There was a stinging, but almost imperceptible feeling deep inside her, too close to annoyance, and resentment. Resentment. As if she were in the position to be resentful. Out of all people, Agnese didn’t deserve it. So she swallowed those feelings and went with her cousin.

“Don’t you wanna know how things with Tommy are going?” Agnese asked her as soon as they had passed the gates of their shared garden, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Of course,” Nina nodded, keeping her eyes on the unpaved road beneath her feet.

“You know he had lunch with us a few days ago right?”

“Yes.”

“We all thought he’d finally propose, but he didn’t.”

Nina raised her gaze on her cousin, studying her expression. She still remembered the strange wave of panic that had gone through her when her mother had stormed into the kitchen to give her the news. The poor girl’s desperate, she had told her. “How did you take it?”

“I was worried,” Agnese admitted, moving her basket to her other arm.

“And now?”

“Not anymore. My father talked to him, and he said he just wants to do it the right way. He thought it would be more proper to wait for a month to pass since we met. If everything goes as it’s supposed to go, he’ll propose by the end of the week,” she explained, and the emotion she had tried to hold back came to the surface in all its strength.

“Good,” Nina forced a tight-lipped smile, unable to ignore the vice tightening around her heart.

“Mr. Shelby’s reputation scared me, at first, but he’s a real gentleman. I mean, he’s a bit cold,” she let out a chuckle. “But he has been very kind to me, and never overstepped in any way,” she assured. Then her eyes lit up, and she began talking again. “Did you know he’s a war hero? He won medals.”

And he threw them in the cut, Nina thought to herself. A part of her just wanted to put an end to her cousin’s rants, to tell her that there was nothing she could say about him that she didn’t know already. And that she was so, so wrong about Tommy. That he could be cold, yes, but also so very ardent. That the walls of ice he had built around him weren’t impenetrable, that they could in fact be melted. That he had strong beliefs, and his own sense of justice, and that on such things he’d never compromise. She had learned all that and even more on the nights they had spent together in her kitchen, in front of cups of tea slowly growing cold. But she didn’t have the right to tell her that. Because Tommy didn’t belong to her. Because it was Agnese who would get to see every part of him, and to Nina he would become nothing more than someone she had once deluded herself she could know.

“I’m…” she paused, the insincere words refusing to come out without some insistence on her part. “I’m happy for you.”

Agnese must’ve noticed that something in Nina’s dark eyes didn’t match her words, that a feeling far from happiness was gnawing at her from the inside, because she stopped walking and placed a hand on her arm. “You’ll find someone too,” she said softly. “Be patient.”

Nina shook her head, a bitter smile making its way on her face. “I don’t want anyone, Agnese.”

“Do you really want me to believe that you wish to be alone?” She took on a scolding tone, widening her eyes in disbelief.

“My aspirations are different than yours,” Nina said firmly, holding her gaze. “And I’d rather be alone than caged.”

“Marriage is not necessarily a prison,” she insisted, her lips curving up in reassurance. “I know I haven’t known him for long, but I can tell Mr. Shelby is not a brute. You might find someone like him.”

No, she wouldn’t. Tommy was like no one she had ever met. There were so many layers to him, so many contradictions that she could live a hundred lives and never meet someone like him. But on one thing Agnese was right: deep down, as preposterous as it sounded, he was good.

“He’s the exception.”

“What are these?”

Putting down the vegetables she had bought for her mother, Nina looked at the bouquet of red roses resting on the table. She was pretty sure they weren’t there before she left the house.

“What do they look like to you?” Her mother asked rhetorically, raising her eyebrows. She looked significantly calmer than a few hours ago, and Nina wasn’t sure whether that was because she was almost done with the lunch or because of the flowers. “Stefano brought them for you,” she explained, going to grab the grocery bag.

It took Nina more than a moment to register her mother’s words. She blinked, her mouth going dry as the memories of what had happened the last time he had been at her house came to her mind. She shifted her gaze from the roses to her mother, then to the roses again.

“He was coming back from church, when he saw them at the flower shop,” Maria continued, taking the vegetables out of the bag. “He said they made him think of you, and thought about making a little deviation to bring them here.”

At that point, Nina wasn’t even listening to her anymore. All she could do was stare at the roses in front of her, her heart racing at the realisation that Stefano was actually moving in that direction.. “This can’t be fucking real…” she murmured. “He’s not seriously doing this.”

“…so I invited him for lunch.”

“You did what?” Her head snapped in her mother’s direction, Maria’s statement harshly pulling her back to reality.

“He’s in your father’s study, talking to him. The boy’s serious about you Nina.”

In a sudden fit of rage, Nina grabbed the flowers and strode toward the bin, but before she could throw them away, her mother snatched them from her hand. “I didn’t raise you to be rude,” she scolded her. “It’s a gift, and gifts must be accepted.”

“I don’t want his gifts,” Nina spat out. “I don’t want anything from him. And I don’t want him. He can make his peace with that.”

Maria let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Nina,” she started, putting down the flowers. “He’s a nice guy-”

Nina scoffed, causing her to stop mid-sentence. So nice that he dared touch me in my own house.

“He’s a nice guy,” her mother repeated, louder this time, a way to tell her not to interrupt her again. “He talked to your father, brought you flowers. You’re twenty-two, it’s time for you to find someone. And this is an occasion. He’s willing to marry you despite-”

This time it was Maria who stopped herself. She bit the inside of her cheek, searching for better words, but Nina didn’t give her the chance to. She crossed her arms over her chest, squinting her eyes. “Despite what?” She asked, watching as her mother averted her gaze. “Despite what, mum? Despite who I am? Despite what I think? Despite what people say about me?”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I think that’s exactly what you meant,” she said coldly. A silence full of tension fell between them, and deep inside Nina hoped her mother would say something to make up for what she had just said. But she didn’t. So she put on the mask of indifference that had become so natural to her, and pretended that those words hadn’t gotten to her.

She was used to it, after all. All her life, Nina had watched her mother hope she could just be different. She had never missed the embarrassment on her face when someone pointed out her child’s peculiarities, nor the subtle envy she could see in her eyes when she looked at her nieces. All beautiful, well-mannered, pleasant, suitable for marriage. That’s what she expected to have when a daughter was finally born. Instead, she got her. She didn’t need to say it out loud for Nina to know that she wondered every day why her daughter couldn’t be a bit less like herself and a bit more like them.

It was tiring, to constantly feel the pressure to live up to everybody’s expectations, to know that she would be considered a disappointment no matter what. And although she wasn’t waiting for anybody’s approval, it would’ve felt nice to have at least one person who understood her. She didn’t want the life her parents wished for her, and at the same time she had no way of living the life she wished for herself. She wasn’t even sure what it was that she wished for herself. She only knew what she didn’t want. Yet it felt like every effort she made not to end up like her mother was inexorably guiding her to that fate.

Tommy didn’t understand the reason why Nina strode out of the kitchen with a face like thunder until lunchtime. The whole family was sitting around the table in the garden that separated the two houses. The arrangement was pretty much the same as every time they had lunch together. Vincenzo Ferrante was at the head, his wife on his left side, Pietro on his right. Salvatore was sitting between him and Nina. However, something was different this time: next to Nina was sitting Stefano. His jaw clenched at the memory of what he had walked into the other day, and his hands itched with the urge of doing what Nina had stopped him from doing. Spinietta must’ve sensed his staring, cause he raised his gaze on him with a hint of smugness on his face. He didn’t know why he was there, he didn’t know exactly what Nina’s past with him was, but it was clear there was some kind of pressure going on. She was keeping herself closer to her brother, in an attempt to put as much distance as possible between herself and Stefano, and apparently pretended he wasn’t there. Tommy could only imagine how hard it was for her to sit next to that poor excuse of a man.

Mario Ferrante, who was sitting at the end of the table with wife on his right side and the other two of his daughters on his left, glanced at him and Agnese from time to time.

Agnese. Tommy had lost track of their conversation long ago. It had become more of a monologue on her part. But how was he supposed to listen to a single word she said when something so unfair was happening right in front of him?

The one thing that brought him some relief was that Nina could find some distraction in her conversation with her brother. Salvatore said something to her, and her frown was replaced by a laugh. It enlightened her whole features, and Tommy couldn’t keep himself from lingering on the way her irises, hit by the sunlight, were marked by golden flecks. A pink tinge warmed her cheeks and two dimples were showing at the corners of her lips. For a moment she looked relaxed, off-guard, even. Lost as he was in that rare sight, Tommy didn’t even notice that a faint smile had appeared on his face. But Agnese did. Her words slowly died out, and her brows furrowed as she followed the trajectory of his eyes.

Before she had the chance to say something, Vincenzo Ferrante got up, causing the chatter to fade.

“Before the wine starts speaking for us, I’d like to say a few words,” he announced, his Italian accent threading through his words. His eyes travelled around, stopping briefly on each person at the table. “You see,” he began once everyone’s attention was on him. “Our family and Mr. Shelby’s family had…” he paused, looking for the right word. “…Misunderstandings. But we were able to communicate with an open mind.” He set his gaze on Tommy, who in return agreed with a single nod. “Now we’re sitting at the same table. Soon, we might even have something to celebrate.”

“Who could’ve guessed it, eh?” Mario Ferrante joked, eliciting laughter from those who could understand him. Maria and Rita Ferrante, whose English was too broken to understand much of what their husbands were saying, simply smiled in support.

“To peace,” Vincenzo said, raising his glass. But when he pronounced his next words, his eyes looked right in his daughter’s. “May we all make our choices with an open mind.”

The lunch proceeded smoothly enough, but it was impossible for Tommy not to sense a general feeling of discomfort. Even the eldest of the Ferrante siblings, Pietro - whose placid expression never gave anything away -, seemed to be upset. There was something going on, and he could just hope it didn’t also involve him. He hadn’t forgotten the dangerousness of his position, alone in a foreign country, surrounded by former enemies with no men on his side.

A sharp noise pulled him out of his thoughts, making him raise his gaze in front of him. Nina had dropped her fork on her plate, visibly bothered by something. More like someone. Because Stefano had been adamant in his attempts to engage her in conversation. Chuckling at her reaction, he pinched her chin with fake playfulness, a gesture that might’ve looked affectionate to less attentive eyes. Tommy tried his best to keep his face straight as his grip on the cutlery tightened. As much as he wished to intervene, there was nothing he could do that wouldn’t raise suspicion. He could just be glad that, surrounded by her family, Stefano wouldn’t be able to try anything again.

For her part, Nina was trying hard not to lose her calm, but they weren’t exactly making it easy for her. Her father’s toast had been the last straw. She hasn’t missed the way he had subtly made it clear that his words were meant for her. She was right, at last. She had been right all along. All that talk about leaving the choice to her was nothing more than empty words, than a way to make her feel like she had some kind of control, when in truth she was just another pawn in his schemes. Because at the end of the day, he was still a man. A man who wanted power, and would’ve done anything in order to achieve it. Even sacrifice his own daughter.

She wanted to leave. She needed to leave. How could everyone pretend everything was fine? How could they sit together and eat when everything was so wrong? How could they digest the hypocrisy? She couldn’t stand them, any of them. Now more than ever. She couldn’t stand their voices, she couldn’t stand their laughter, she couldn’t stand the way they talked and talked and talked. She hated the way they suddenly seemed inhuman. They were all hunching over their plates, chewing and slurping, the awful sounds almost painful to her ears. Even Stefano, who always carried himself with composure and dignity, seemed to have transformed into some feral animal, hands and fingers dirty with crumbles and sauce. Those same hands he had put on her not many days before.

“Excuse me,” she blurted out, abruptly standing up. All eyes were on Nina now, but she ignored the murmurings and crossed the garden to go back to her house before anyone could stop her. She couldn’t stay there anymore. She couldn’t tolerate the little games, and the lies. Even her own lies. Her lies to her family, her lies to herself. She couldn’t.

She grabbed the kitchen counter for support, taking deep breaths to put an order to that vortex of overwhelming feelings.

“What’s wrong, huh?” A familiar voice resounded behind her, making her snap her head up. When she turned around, Stefano was there, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. “You’re not having fun?”

“Leave,” Nina commanded, and she didn’t even need to put on a brave facade to spit those words out with all the hatred she felt for him. She had sworn she’d never let herself be scared of him ever again, and she was determined to keep that promise. He had no right to make her feel unsafe in her own home.

“Are you going to embarrass me like that when we’re husband and wife?” Stefano moved away from the door to approach her with slow, measured steps, hands in his pockets. It came as a surprise, how easy it was to end up alone with her. He had just needed to act all concerned and offer to go check up on her - out of apprehensiveness and affection, of course. However, he was aware he had always had a certain influence on people.

Not on Nina, though. She was the one person he had never managed to fool. She had always been able to read right through him. Just like she was reading through him now. He wanted to intimidate her, to prove to her that it was him the one in power, that he was used to take what he wanted, and that he wasn’t above deception.

“Fuck off.”

Stefano tutted. “You really must be taught your place, don’t you?”

“By you?” A laugh escaped her lips, but it held no humour. She was openly mocking him, and that was enough to get under his skin. A veil of darkness seemed to cover his gaze, and he snatched her arm with a swift movement.

“Careful,” he murmured through gritted teeth. Even though her heart was racing in her chest, Nina held his stare, a mixture of anger and mockery in her eyes. She was walking on thin ice, yet she couldn’t help but push his buttons, see how much effort it would take for him to snap. She wanted to be a nuisance to him, to torment him like he had tormented her for all those years, to haunt him with the reminder that it didn’t matter what he did or said, he wouldn’t get what he wanted.

“What’s happening here?” Maria Ferrante entered the kitchen, interrupting that staring match.

Stefano promptly brought his other hand on Nina’s arm, making it look as if he was supporting her. “Nina’s not feeling very well, signora Maria.” His hard expression softened as he put on his usual mask of affability. Nina grimaced, taking a step back, and a wave of relief washed over her. Her skin almost burned where he had touched her, and she felt the sudden need to scrub the imprint of his fingers off.

“Go to your room, then,” Maria said sternly to her daughter, and this time she was not surprised to see her comply without hesitation.

She didn’t believe a single word Stefano had said. She had seen her Nina’s face. She was her child, her blood. And although their relationship seemed to be made of misunderstandings and words left unsaid, she knew her like the back of her hand. She could read through her every expression, every gesture. And she had seen something in her eyes she had never seen until that moment, not even once. Fear. That brave, reckless girl who had never been scared of anything since she had drawn her first breath was afraid of Stefano.

That same guy who always behaved so nicely, who helped her carry her bags, who showed the outmost respect to her husband, who spoke words of affection for their daughter. Now it didn’t seem like an innocent infatuation anymore. Because when he looked at Nina earlier that day, he had the same look in his eyes she had seen in hundreds of men. And when he touched her, he did it as if he was entitled to it. His mask had slipped, and she could finally see him for who he was, behind the pleasant smiles and the charm and the courtesy. Maria could only be thankful to Mr. Shelby for asking her for some more water at just the right moment.

Her gaze went to the knife lying on the table. Men like him, like her husband, like her own sons - mafia men - only understood one language. Stefano’s guard was off, and Maria was quick enough to catch him by surprise. In a matter of seconds she had the knife pointed at his throat, and she was unknowingly pressing the edge of the blade against the small scar that her daughter had given him a few years earlier. He clamped his jaw, keeping himself as far as he could from the blade.

“Tocca di nuovo mia figlia,” she said lowly, gritting her teeth. “E ti sgozzo come un maiale.”

(“You put your hands on my daughter ever again, and I’ll gut you like a pig.”)

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

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General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Febuwhump 13: Lay Here

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone Summary: Kaz plans everything so meticulously that there's not a single room for error. That being said, everyone is prone to mistakes. Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, injury, mentions of police brutality, and near-death experiences Word Count: 1,363 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker/Nina Zenik

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Kaz burst through the doors, shaking everyone else that was gathered in the little room. He could barely even turn his head to the side to see who was all there. He knew that Inej and Matthias had been on the mission with Nina, so they were likely standing in the corner alongside Wylan. Jesper was the one that was knelt in front of the bed while clasping her hand, he was able to recognize the shape of his shoulders hunched forward immediately.

“What happened?” he demanded as he looked over the bed and then back to the others that had gathered. He could feel the blood from the gang members he had shot on his way into the building already seeping through his clothing and creating an ugly mess on the scar tissue covered skin of his chest. His body was filled with an unspeakable rage, leaching into every roll of his shoulders and glint of his eyes on the people in front of him.

When he decided that no one had given him an answer fast enough, he roared, “What happened?”

“She just got hurt, sometimes it happens,” Jesper snapped, turning his head back towards his friend.

Kaz and Jesper had known each other for years. They had worked side by side all the way through the twenties when the Prohibition Amendment had been in place, getting alcohol to Per Haskell’s shit speakeasy while also trying to liven the place up a bit. He had known Jesper longer than any of his other Crows, considered him to be his best friend in the entire world, and yet there was nothing more that Kaz wanted to do then rip his head off and feed it to the dogs.

He stalked forward while leaning heavily on his cane, the twist in his knee from a working accident back in the nineteen tens even more pronounced. If Jordie was alive, he would have demanded Kaz sit down. But he had died of Tuberculosis not long after they had moved to New York in the first place. He knew that Nina would have agreed with the voice of Kaz’s older brother, even if she was always worried about the way that it seemed to haunt him.

“No one gets fucking hurt when I’m the one that makes the plans!” he growled. 

Someone stepped forward and grabbed his arm so that he was unable to lean down and get closer to Jesper. He supposed that was a good thing, it wasn’t going to be pretty when he got his hands on the person that had left Nina in that state. He whirled around so that the feral wrath of a gutter rat could be directed at someone else when he saw that it was Inej.

She was his sister in many ways, a sibling that he had never gotten to have because of the death of his mother when she had him. She was kind and gentle to him, caring for him when he could no longer care for himself. She could also drive him up the walls six ways from Sunday with her preaching about kindness to one’s neighbors. He couldn’t hurt her though, he would never lay a hand on her nor would he let anyone else do so. “Kaz, you need to take a deep breath. We’re not your enemy, Jesper is trying to help her.”

“And how can he do that? He spent all of his cash on cheap whores the last time that I gave it directly to him,” he snarled. It was a low blow, but that was the benefit of knowing the people in his inner circle inside and out.

“He didn’t, that’s just what he told you because he didn’t want you to know about the two of us yet,” Wylan snapped quickly. “Now will you stop growling like one of Alys’ dogs and just fucking listen to us?”

While he spoke, the young boy pulled the chair from the corner and then pointed to it with an expectant look on his face. Kaz was tempted to bite him, just to prove a point. He hadn’t done anything that low in a long time, though, so he plopped himself down in the chair and then turned his head back to Nina. “Are any of you going to tell me what happened to my fucking wife?”

“I haven’t actually accepted the proposal yet,” came a voice from the woman on the bed. She was wearing a sheer white gown, the one that she always used underneath her dresses while she was performing at both the White Rose and the Crow Club. It was stained with blood from the wound over her breasts and thighs, thin lines that had been cut with the precision of someone in a rush. They had already been bandaged but the garment was the only thing that she had to cover her modesty in their safehouse apartment.

“You will,” Kaz insisted. She had, in fact, accepted his proposal before the mission that had apparently gone wrong. The ring sitting on her finger, dancing in the dim light of the safe room in all of its glass diamond beauty, was proof enough of that.

She chuckled and then winced. Jesper brushed his hand over her head, “Go back to bed, Nins. You’re still really banged up and it’s going to be a while before Muzzen gets here with the supplies.”

“Really sucks when your nurse is the one to get injured, huh?” she coughed briefly once before she let her eyes snap closed again.

Kaz stood from the chair and rushed over to her before he saw the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, confirming that she was alright. He knew that she was stronger than a little bloodloss or some two-bit thug, but he still worried. He had lost his father in a farming accident, his mother before he had ever known her, and his brother from a condition they didn’t even know was real until they had come to the city. He wasn’t about to lose Nina in the same way, even if it was because of him.

---

It felt like hours had passed before Muzzen finally showed up. He was able to apply fresh bandages in Kaz’s stead as the man in question found himself completely reverted back into the fear of touch he had thought he left behind. Nina remained asleep, especially after the medication that she was provided from the little snake oil bottle that they kept in the medical bag.

The others eventually cleared out so that they could regroup and discuss what had happened during the mission. Kaz knew that he would have to go with them, that he would have to interrogate them all individually so that he could paint a proper picture. He knew that it was his responsibility, the one that he had vied for and even killed for. He knew all of that and yet nothing was going to be able to rip him away from Nina’s side.

She had done so much for him. She had the ability to prick and needle him into doing something good for the world in a way that Inej’s lectures never had. She stood up to him and was hellbent on what she thought was right. She had a strong voice and an even stronger will, even when she was falling down into her own vices. The steadiness of her hands and the sureness of her heart was what had dragged Kaz out of the depths more times than he thought possible.

It was part of the reason he was so devastated to know that she had to suffer an attack like that when he was supposed to be protecting her.

He sat heavily down on the side of her bed and then took her hand. He wished he could have felt the heavy metal contrasting to the warmth of her skin against his bare palm, but that was a pipe dream for the time being. Kaz slowly brought her knuckles to his mouth in a brief kiss before he murmured, “You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

[onlyswan]

summary: in which it’s pouring outside and jungkook is craving s’mores.

> fluff / wc: 3k

> warnings: is this considered having an existential crisis ? mention of making out <3

note: we’re in the middle of summer but i waited for it to rain all week just to write this. because it only felt right shrugs. do i wish you’d read this while listening to rain sounds in the bg ? maybe.

as always lmk what you think :] mwah

—

“we look like a movie poster for those indie romance movies right now.” jungkook utters quietly with a small smile, the kind that shows more in his eyes than his lips. “the kind that leaves you with an ache in your heart for days but it hurts so good because the movie felt too real and too dreamlike at the same time.”

hushed whispers floating in the cold, unlit living room. his voice loud enough for you to hear despite the clouds crying loudly up above the sky and over the roof over your heads. the clouds’ weeping is music for the gentle souls, after all.

you ought to chase his words around, hands clawing at the air and naked feet pattering against the carpeted floor, just to swallow and keep them safe in your heart. your little treasure chest that had to break a couple million times to accommodate more words. more memories. more love.

a kiss is pressed on the exposed skin of your right shoulder, the sleeve of your oversized shirt hung lower and lower the longer the fervent dancing of your lips with jungkook’s went on.

your legs around his waist. his hands holding your waist. your hands grasping at the loose shoulders of his grey shirt. his forehead leaning against yours. why do lovers hold on to each other as if there will be no tomorrow to come? at which point of loving does the subconscious and irrational fear of the world ending at any second start to surface? the thought of the humankind ceasing to exist has been stubbornly knocking on your skull these days. and to put it frankly, your only concern about it is not being able to kiss jungkook like this again.

“too real and too dreamlike.” you repeat his words. your fingers caress his face tenderly, index finger tracing the scar on his cheek. every bump and every dent give you the reassurance that you are not dreaming. you sigh a breath of relief. “that describes you perfectly.”

“nuh-uh,” he raises an eyebrow. “that was meant for you. you know, i find it hard to believe how lucky i am. that i can hold you like this.” he softly squeezes your hips to emphasize his point.

“there are moments when i realize that oh shit, i have the most beautiful person in the world in my life and i am in theirs. ah, just saying it out loud like this makes it even harder to believe. i’m so happy.” the expressions on his face are so endearing to you. the pout of his lips. the way his bambi eyes widen when he says certain words. when he closes them and tilts his head to the side with a bunny smile while saying that he’s happy.

“i get the same feeling very often, too. i think you can tell when it happens.” you chuckle, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“is it when you ask me if we can take a bath together just so i’d wash your hair?” he teases, having done exactly that the night before.

you groan, lightly hitting his chest. “you volunteer to do that!”

“but baby, that’s the point.” he jokingly slaps his hand on his forehead and shakes his head in fake disappointment.

“well you also asked me to shave your stubble this morning, so what’s your point?”

his laughter tickles your ears. it’s one of his rare laughs, louder and deeper than the usual. “the point is! we’re just as crazy for each other, baby!” he grabs your face to give you a smooch on the lips, the ‘mwah’ sound so clearly pronounced. it makes the two of you laugh that you almost cry.

god, how you wish you could’ve captured that moment to watch over and over again until you get sick of it. (the truth is you’d watch it forever if it was up to you because no way you’re ever getting sick of it, but for the sake of sounding sane, let’s pretend that you someday would.)

—

you’re laying comfortably without saying anything, squished between jungkook and the couch. you believe the mutual love you have for the rain binds you two together. why else would you be tangled with each other while watching the heavy rain blur the giant window of your living room? the small potted plants sitting on the windowsill are watching with you in pure tranquility, you can tell.

can you believe the clouds have been carrying that much water all this time? it must’ve been hard. oh, the poor clouds.

you think about the soil of the earth. oh, how dearly welcoming they are of the shattered pieces of raindrops. they embrace them all oh so tight until they become one and inseparable. you adore how the soil turns shades darker when it gets wet; how the color gradually spreads; how they come to be more alive. so warm, so comforting to admire the nature like this. to know that they love as humans do makes you want to love much harder.

“i’m craving something, but i can’t put my finger on it.” jungkook is the first to speak after more than twenty minutes of only the sound of rain stimulating your ears.

“jeon?” you take a guess. eyes still focused on the raindrops racing down the glass.

“hmm, no.”

“kalguksu?”

“no.”

“sujebi? ramyeon?”

he heaves a sigh. “noooo.”

“drinks, maybe? makgeolli?”

“still no. but that sounds nice right now.”

you grow silent as you try to think of other food he would usually crave when it rains. moments later, you feel his teeth softly biting the fleshy part of your palm below the thumb. not again.

you look up to him, eyes blinking in disbelief. “jungkook, i hate to break this to you but . . . i’m not edible.”

he pulls away, face feigning innocence. “that doesn’t explain why you taste so sweet.” and bites again, letting his teeth sink a little deeper this time.

“that’s because i don’t.”

he pulls away again. “i’m the one who had you in my mouth. you can’t tell me otherwise.”

you roll your eyes and make a face. he is about to bite you again when it hits him. sweet. and soft. marshmallows? hmm, no- oh wait-

he dramatically gasps, leaning forward and leaving only a few inches of distance between your faces. “baby, s’mores. i’m craving s’mores.”

“what?” your eyebrows knit together, before a smile forms on your lips. “s’mores out of nowhere?”

“i want some so bad.” he whines, head falling back to the pillow in distress. it isn’t exactly advisable to drive in the pouring rain just to buy a bag of marshmallows. the pieces of wood in the backyard are most likely wet from the rain, too.

“okay, get up.” you order him, patting the side of his ass.

“do you need to pee? i’ll come with you.”

you look at him as if he just grew two heads. boys like tagging along to the bathroom too? okay. new information encoded.

you boop his nose, feeling very much endeared with your boyfriend. “i’ll make you s’mores, silly.“

“huh? how?”

“just get up and come with me in the kitchen.” you push him lightly, and the lower half of his body slowly slides down the couch until he’s sitting on his ass on the floor. you slide your feet into your fluffy slippers because the kitchen floor is cold. he watches your every movement, sitting there lost and confused.

“meanie!” he yells out before standing up to follow you to the kitchen, careful not to slip with his socks on. when he arrives, you’re already standing on a chair from the dinner table set, pulling out a large bag of marshmallows from the top cabinet.

he stands beside the chair as you chew on a marshmallow, clearly feeling very pleased with the sugar playing with your taste buds. you feed him a yellow one, which he accepts with a glare. you smile at him innocently, stuffing his mouth with another.

“you’ve been hiding this from me?” his voice comes out muffled, the mallows making his rosy cheeks look extra soft and puffy.

his accusation leaves you offended. “do you really think i’d hide something here? i’m smarter than that!”

“that’s the point! you know nobody opens the top cabinets. there’s nothing in there because you can’t reach.” you purse your lips to contain your giggles. his mouth full of mallows and his wild hand gestures make it impossible for you to take him seriously.

you click your tongue, hiding the bag on your back. “so do you want s’mores or not?”

“i want.” he answers right away, sounding almost sad. you pat his head as a silent way to say good boy before turning around and hopping down the chair.

jungkook follows you to the stove animatedly, and his face brightens up when he realizes what you’re about to do. “you’re using the stove as fire?!”

“what else would i use it for, dummy?” you turn it on at low setting, and then insert the stick on a marshmallow. you start to roast it over the small fire exactly how you would if you were out camping in the middle of nowhere.

“is this safe?”

“i’ve been doing it since i was eight. and i’m healthy and alive.” you blow out the fire that got caught on it. “say ahhh.” he obeys, closing his lips around the stick and pulling out the marshmallow. it immediately melts and the delicious taste he has been desperately craving goes off like fireworks in his mouth.

“i’ll bring the graham crackers and nutella.” he gives you another quick kiss on the lips before he moves around the kitchen looking for them. you taste the marshmallow when you lick your lips after.

“baby, bring the chair too, please?”

he comes back with the graham crackers and the jar of nutella sitting on the chair he is carrying. “where do i put this?” you move to the side and point to the space infront of the stove. he sets it down there before hopping on the counter hugging his beloved food. you, on the other hand, climbs on the chair and sits down squatting. you’re on the perfect level as the stove.

and you spend the afternoon like that, you roasting marshmallows while jungkook is waiting with a graham cracker between his teeth. he bites down on it and takes the marshmallow from your stick before licking the spoon of nutella.

you’re too preoccupied with making sure the marshmallow you give him won’t burn his tongue to notice the red hearts replacing your boyfriend’s irises. you make him fall in love with you deeper and deeper without even realizing it. how do you endlessly find ways to make him happy? it doesn’t matter how small or big your gestures are, because the fact that it comes so naturally to you is what he appreciates the most.

the rain hasn’t stopped. you watch it pour from the window that stretches all the way to the both sides of the wall (it was your special request. you love seeing nature while doing whatever is that you’re doing. curtains exist anyway). the golden bell tree in your backyard stands out in the dull ambiance looming over the town. you notice the low area on the right side of the garden is almost completely submerged in brown water.

“we need to buy more garden soil.” you remind your boyfriend.

he peeks outside the window and makes a noise of vexation. “we do. let’s fix it together next weekend.”

when he looks back, a roasted marshmallow is already waiting for him to be devoured. “you should have some too, my love.” he holds your wrist and guides it into your mouth, and then feeds you a piece of graham cracker he dipped in the nutella jar. you give him a pleased smile, munching on the sweet treat with sheer delight.

he smooths down your hair affectionately before reaching down to give a tender kiss to your cheek. “you have never done anything to me that was not good. i love you.” you lean against his touch, savoring his natural warmth. his words tug at your heartstrings until you feel your heart get stuck in your throat.

“i love you more.”

they say that the most beautiful memories from your life flash before your eyes moments before you die. and you just know this memory in particular would be one of them. you wish you could relive this one day - the overflowing sincerity of his voice, the warmth of his hand, the sweet scent of the dessert, the rain knocking on the roof and the windows. god, even the piece of marshmallow stuck between your lower gums and teeth, and the feeling of your ankles getting painfully numb from your position. you want it all. all over again. one more time. one last time.

jungkook offers you a bite of the first proper sandwich he made, and he pulls it away until the line of melted marshmallow caught between your lips breaks. along with it, your resolve snaps into ruins. tears slide down your cheeks one by one. unstoppable.

your sniffles catch his attention in no second. he drops the half eaten sandwich on the plate and hops down the counter. without any struggle, he carries you to replace your spot on the chair. he places you on his lap to hold you as close as possible.

“baby, baby wha-” he pauses for a second to turn off the stove. it would be really bad if your hair gets burnt.

“what’s wrong, hmm? talk to me, please.” he brushes away the strands of hair blocking your face, tucking them behind your ear.

“i’m just- i never believed i’d ever get to a point in my life where i’d feel this happy and content.” you bite your lower lip harshly in a futile attempt to stop your tears. you’re being too dramatic, you scold yourself internally. “and lately, i’ve been feeling like everything will slip between the gaps of my fingers soon. and i just really don’t want that to happen.”

jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach. you used to reject the idea of happiness in your life, but over time you’ve learned how to welcome it with open arms. he was right by your side when you were still learning how to break down the walls you built yourself. and he realizes that this time around, you’re terrified of losing the happiness that took you a long time to be allowed to have.

he says your name softly, breathing out a sigh. “i can’t promise you things like this or that will never happen, because life is complicated and unpredictable. i can only promise you myself. that you will always have me because i will always choose to stay. so let’s stay here, okay? let’s not think about the past or the future. let’s live in the today and savor every moment gifted to us. let’s say what we want to say. let’s do what we want to do. so that we only have good memories to keep and no regrets to dwell on.”

you nod your head repeatedly, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.

“i want nothing more in the world than for you to be happy for a long, long time.” he tells you quietly, like a handwritten confession he’s been keeping in his pocket for years. he takes over wiping your tears, gingerly caressing your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“you’ve been making me happy for a long, long time. i love you. i really do.” you swallow thickly, softly pushing his hands away.

he pouts. “i love you more. let me wipe away your tears.” but you push them away again.

“give me something to wipe my snot with first maybe.”

“ah, my baby is feeling better now. here, use my shirt.” he offers the bottom of his shirt with a wide grin, and you shoot him a glare. “what? don’t worry. i’ll do the laundry as the laundry fairy.”

you get on your feet and use the box of tissue sitting on the corner of the counter to blow your nose on instead. he follows you again, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his chin on your shoulder while you do your business. he hums a random love song, slowly swaying your bodies from side to side.

when his eyes stray outside, he sees that the backyard is getting flooded. yeah, i need to work on that as soon as possible.

“i want more s’mores.” you say after tossing the dirty tissues in the bin.

“i’ll make them for you, baby.” you feel his lips briefly press against the skin of your neck, before he tugs at your hand and hoists you up on the counter by the waist. you swing your feet back and forth in the air.

“i’ll start making dinner too. kalguksu?” he inquires, and you agree with his choice. he also craves it after all. he turns on both spots of the stove and gets to work, roasting marshmallows for you while he waits for the dish to cook.

“we’re not allowed to consume sugar in the next two weeks.” you gulp down a tall glass of cold water after telling jungkook that you’ve had enough.

he winces. “isn’t two weeks a bit too long?”

“thirteen days then.”

“ah, yes, thirteen. our lucky number. that should do.”

you narrow your eyes. him agreeing right away is suspicious . . .

“i’ll be hiding the marshmallows for real this time.”

his shoulders visibly drop. “twelve days?”

“no.”

a bolt of lightning rips through the grey sky, making the ground vibrate from its extremely loud scream. you flinch in fear and shock, your heart almost jumping out of your chest.

“you have angered the sugar gods!”

“jungkook, it’s not funny!”