#okay actually after saying that I remember why this is an anxiety inducing thing

[thethingything]

anyway sorry about all the system posts in quick succession, I'm just having a weird time because our brain's fixated on wanting to talk about source stuff again but that's still way too anxiety inducing and idk why it's doing this but I guess it's just a thing it does every so often

[canadian-riddler]

generally I think you're a cool person

not in a cool-cool way but in a cool-chill way

I mean cool-cool as well but that's not the point

what I actually mean is... that you appear calm most of the time

it might be because I mostly get an impression of you from texts and posts, but I doubt that it's far from the truth

also, you always have your own opinion — and you're not afraid to tell it, even if it may sound harsh

not to mention your dedication to characters and things you like which I find aspiring

and, of course, you're a great writer — it is always a delight to read your new works and revisit old ones

even after all this time your profile and your entire presence became some sort of comfort zone for me which is not that easy to achieve

maybe it's not really informative or something you didn't hear before but yeah, I think of you as a good and cool person

no matter what happens, no matter how much time passes, I will always visit your blog

it actually... is kind of far from the truth. I'll talk a little bit about why.

when I was younger, my mom was... let's say there was a lot of pressure to behave. to not rock the boat. I'm the oldest of five so I also felt this need to be the best. the best behaved. the best example of how the other kids should be. some of this was in my head probably, but my mom also said to me once, 'What doesn't work on you I don't do on them'. so maybe it wasn't in my head and I just don't remember what influenced me to act that way.

so in my head I'm actually stressing about stuff all the time. there are posts I have a lot of anxiety about making and this is actually due in part to an incident a few years ago where someone tried to cancel me. so in my head I'm always worried about my posts ending up as receipts if anyone ever tries to do it again. I've also had a lot of people vaguepost about me or come at me in my DMs or trash me in group chats and it's just. exhausting to have to think about the potential for that happening every time I consider making a post that's even mildly controversial. but at the same time I know I say some stuff that other people are afraid to say and that they really need to know that someone else is thinking it too and while it does stress me out sometimes, it helps to hear that other people find it helpful when I do it. in my real life I don't speak up a lot of the time. sometimes it's about waiting something out, sometimes it's about not wanting to rock the boat. the way I was raised contributed to me getting mad anxiety about 'bothering' other people. but I'm also very lucky in that in my job I am surrounded by great people who really care about me and treat me really well (though I will still mostly wait for them to volunteer things rather than ask for them, just in case)

and honestly... Tumblr doesn't need to hear that from me. Tumblr doesn't need yet another person talking about how stressful and anxiety-inducing life and other people can be, especially not from someone my age. people on Tumblr need to hear that things get better and that you can work past your issues and that you really will be okay. that good things will happen to you even when you think they won't. that you really can be someone who holds it together and does so on purpose when you grow up. that you CAN know what you're doing in your life and be confident in doing so. that's the kind of person I would rather be to you guys. or even just the kind of person you think I am. I actually worry a lot about coming off as pretentious or condescending or whatever. but there's only so much you can do when someone chooses to see you in a certain light and I try to keep that in mind.

thank you very much and I hope I will always continue to earn such a high opinion from people like you.

[vtori73]

Hmmm... I'm... I'm really bad at talking with people. Like I can do casual, but that's... really it. I don't know how to talk to people otherwise, I want to make friends with others but it just doesn't work out.m because I just can't. I mean, I guess it also just kind of seems like the people who I want to or would like to be friends with don't want to ever really be my friends and random people who do want to be friends aren't people I want to stay friends with after getting to know them. I mean, that is not necessarily true though, it was more so the fact that I just felt like they kind of got tired of me or more correctly I got insecure and felt like they didn't really care for as much anymore or I wasn't much of a factor in their lives and me noping out wouldn't matter especially since we didn't really know each other for that long.

I know, I'm still in the wrong, I gh0sted them basically and I'm not trying to defend it but I just find it hard to think it was that big of a deal. I get it for people you've known for years but someone you've barely just started knowing shouldn't be like a big deal, while you can still believe it sucks (& it does) I don't think people you barely know have to explain themselves to you and such especially if there isn't really much to explain. Literally I just didn't see these relationships going anywhere so I'm not saying it was okay but it also wasn't the worst most evil thing in the world because again, I didn't know these people that much and they were the ones who came to me first so I gave them a chance and let them in, honestly some would say it would have been ruder of me if I had just been honest about not wanting to be friends anymore.

But this is also a pattern with me I've noticed but moreso out of genuine low-confidence and anxiety I have for interacting with others. I try to make sure I word everything right and reread what I wrote to make sure I don't accidently write something that could be interpreted wrong, I avoid using emojis because they can specific meanings that I just not aware of because I just take them at face value or if I do use them I try to use the most common/neutral/known ones in person I just try not to talk or say too much in fear of saying something stupid or weird and i dont want to weird people out and when I do talk and actually talk about something a bit more important or anxiety inducing I tend to shake (tremor) or use to I'm not sure if that still happens since im more able to share opinions more often now but its probably still there just situational. If I leave a comment and I don't get a reaction soon enough I start to freak out that I said or did something wrong so I end up deleting it to get rid of the trail, to make up for it or hide it before it can be seen in case I did write out something weird.

I know how I never really had a normal relationship, friendships included because when I had the most friends in my life, which was highschool, I was a big people pleaser and went out of my way to try and be liked and to keep the friends I had. Nothing really horrible but one example I can actually remember is that despite the fact that we went quite a few times to the movies together I was never actually... asked for my opinion on what movie to watch it was always decided, and I never thought much of it till later after these friendships started dissolving. I was also the one that put in the most effort but barely got any back, again nothing horrible but not great either. I noticed how once I did start trying to voice my actual opinions and such I got less and less interactions from others because something I probably always knew deep down that was confined for me was that I wasn't mostly tolerated because I was easy to be around and deal with and once I wasn't I wasn't really worth the hassle anymore.

Maybe I'm misremembering though, maybe I'm being rough on those old friends but that's what it seemed like to me. It's probably also why I do find myself noping out of these new relationships, because i worry or notice they are drifting away and I don't want to give them the chance to gh0st me so I leave instead. Some of them though I don't regret after finding out about specific opinions they hold. I find myself sort of glad though that I did, glad I left instead of put up with people with opinions I can't stand personally just for the sake of not being alone.

[tomboy-writer]

Prompt: Chris Evans story where your boyfriend is a cheating douche-bag. He cheats on you time and time again and you get into a bit of a depression. You confide in your best friend, Chris Evans. His consoling leads to sex, the sex soon turns into a regular thing and you get happy again. Your boyfriend sees your change and promises that he will never cheat again and that he will treat you better. You’re happy but sad at the same time because now you have to break things off with Chris. But Chris won’t have it; he says that you should stay with him and not your boyfriend. You’re not sure of which decision to make, so Chris lists off reasons why you would be better off with him.

Chris Evans x black!reader

A/N: my first Chris Evans story!! Let me know what you guys think of it.

A/N 2: I started this story a few years ago and it took me a long time to finish cause I was on a very long writing hiatus and didn't finish this until earlier this year, so some of the story goes off of what the summary says and I decided to turn this into 2 parts (could be more, depending on how long the 2nd part is). So no smut in this part, just angst and dumb jokes. This also originally wasn't going to be a black reader story, but seeing how my ACTUAL 1st Chris Evans story went pretty well (the Game On story) I decided to make it another one cause I love it.

C/W: angst, swearing, my dumb jokes, 3rd person story (it hurt my brain to write it this way, but I wanted to try something different)

“He did it again, Chris! Michael cheated on me with some big titted chick,” Y/N said as she sobbed into her best friend’s shoulder.

Chris rubbed his friend’s back, trying to calm her down. He knew how to handle situations like these since Y/N went through so many of them with her boyfriend. Chris thought her relationship with Michael was like a broken record: always repeating itself. It was good at first with the couple being so obviously in love, but that changed six months later when Michael decided that Y/N wasn’t enough and started to cheat on her with multiple women. Y/N had been given advice by Chris countless times about guys like Michael and she listened to him, she really did. But she always ended up forgiving her unfaithful boyfriend and enjoyed the makeup sex that Michael would give her after.

“He and that big titted chick can both go to hell for all I care,” Chris replied. Then he lifted his friend’s head from his shoulder and made her look directly in his eyes. “Hey hon,” he said using his ‘friendly’ nickname for Y/N. “I think it’s about time you dropped that lame ass zero and got yourself a hero.”

“Okay, Captain America,” Y/N chuckled while wiping her face.

Chris laughed too, but deep down he was really hoping that Y/N would actually consider dating him. They met seven years ago and became fast friends. But the bearded actor didn’t count on falling for Y/N a few years later when he was doing an interview for one of his new movies and Y/N was there to help support him and make sure his anxiety didn’t get the best of him. While in the middle of the interview, Chris started to feel a little fidgety, so he tugged on his ear; a sign that told Y/N that he needed her help. She was standing right behind the cameraman, so Y/N could see everything that Chris was doing. She saw the signal and started to make some weird faces for her best friend.

Y/N made Chris and the interviewer crack up that day, especially when she stood right behind the cameraman and started to bulge her eyes out at him, making him laugh as well. At that moment, Chris realized that he had found that special someone. That special someone that he wants to spend the rest of his life with and just keep forever, never let go. 

Y/N was sweet, considerate and loved Disney movies and dogs as much as he did. So he felt that she was just perfect for him. He even started to mentally kick his ass for taking so long to realize this.

The interviewer asked Chris one last question before he had to leave.

“So, Chris, is there a special lady in your life? Ya know, besides your mother and sisters,” she asked.

Chris chuckled and looked right in Y/N’s direction with a bright smile on his face. “Well, I don’t have anyone yet,” the blonde answered, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s, “but I’m looking for her.”

“Chris? Chris, did you hear me,” Y/N asked suddenly, stopping Chris from remembering the day he fell for her.

Evans shook his head no. “Sorry, I zoned out for a few seconds.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I said I would love to find a new boyfriend, but I’m still in love with Michael.” Chris rolled his eyes this time. “Don’t do that, man. I can’t help that these are my feelings for him.”

“But what are your feelings for him right now! Aren’t you sad? Pissed? Or feeling like you just wanna punch that douche-bag in the face so hard that his face caves in a little bit?”

Chris’s friend nodded her head yes and started to sob again. He felt bad for making Y/N cry; he would never want to make her tears fall from her eyes unless they were tears of joy. He grabbed Y/N and embraced her for a few minutes until she was calm again. Once was she was, Chris pulled away from Y/N enough to look her in her eyes.

“Hey, promise me that you’ll forget about that douche for at least two weeks and just try to find someone better. Okay?” Chris begged with sincerity in his eyes. 

“Okay,” I promise,” Y/N complied.

Chris kissed Y/N’s head and, after saying goodbye, left his friend’s house for the night.

           * * *

Chris returned to Y/N’s house a few weeks later. He rung the doorbell and heard a faint ‘it’s open’. Evans opened and closed the door behind him and blushed at the sight in front of him: there stood Y/N, wearing only a pair of boy shorts and an over sized t-shirt, no makeup. That’s when Chris thought, no knew, that Y/N was the most beautiful woman out there.

"Hi Chris," Y/N greeted her best friend with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Evans couldn't help the blush that crept onto his face. He also couldn't help but to imagine if he and Y/N were together and he'd come home from being on set all day long, her greeting him the same way she was now except that she'd try to pull back a little to ask him about his day. But Chris would hold his lover in a tight embrace, kiss her so lovingly, so passionately, and ask about her day instead.

Yeah, Christopher Robert [Jamal] Evans would love that.

"Hey, Y/N," Chris replied as he breathed in the embrace. "How've you been lately?"

"A little bit better; not fully okay, but I'm getting there I think," Y/N answered.

Chris shook his head in disbelief. He knew when his best friend was lying to him. "Y/N," he whispered, "I can see in your eyes that you're hurting more than letting on. You sure you're doing fine?"

Y/N's smile was quickly replaced with a small frown. "I'm doin' fine, Evans," she answered, mocking Chris's Boston accent. "And, before you ask, yes I have went on a few dates with other guys; three to be exact. First guy wouldn't shut up about his ex-wife; like I was supposed to be his therapist or something. Second guy -this gorgeous dreadhead- we connected and shit, but he too wouldn't stop talking about his ex and his table manners were terrible." You rolled your eyes before finishing your list. "Last but not least, I went on date with Mr. I-Got-Tons-of-Money-Baby. We didn't connect at all and I'm sure it was cause of his cocky attitude and the way he talked down to people -it was disgusting! " The dateless woman flounced into her big living room and plopped down onto her L-shaped sofa. "Trying to find a new man is pointless, Chris. Either I start dating women cause why the fuck not!? Or I just give up on love all together."

Chris chuckled but then nervously cleared his throat after he came up with a great -but what he also thought was a heart attack inducing- idea. "Y/N," he stammered.

"Yeah, man?"

"If the whole thing with you dating females doesn't work out, but you still want to try to find love, then I know exactly who you should date next."

Y/N gave Chris a questionable look. He didn't say anything back, just raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously. It took Y/N a few seconds to understand what Chris was talking about. But once she did, her mouth went into an O shape, showing her shock and surprise.

"Are you serious, Evans," Y/N exclaimed; eyes now wide as golf balls. "You wanna date me!?!"

The actor chuckled. He didn't think that his friend would be so shocked by his words. "I've been wanting to date you basically almost ever since we first met, Y/N. I just- -I just never knew what to say to you about it, or if you felt the same way or not and if you didn't then I didn't want to ruin our friendship, or if you did feel the dame way but then something bad happens to us down the road and then that messes with up our friendship and then there's the thing with paparazzi..." Chris was rambling on and on but Y/N was listening to everything he was saying. Hanging onto every word that was coming out of her best friend's mouth.

Y/N had never known that Chris had felt this way about her. It wasn't that she was completely oblivious (well, maybe a little), but she also never saw any signs of her friend being in love with her. Wait. Was Chris in love with Y/N? As far as she knew -or as far as she thought from what she was told so far- this was just a crush. A crush confession that apparently was a long time coming. She wondered how she felt for Chris; did she have the same feelings for him like he did for her? When they first met, all Y/N cared about was how Chris acted as a person, not as Captain America or as an actor in general. But as Chris Evans, an everyday man. Y/N knew, after that one day of meeting Evans, that she wanted to be best friends with the man, nothing more and nothing less. But now, with Chris' confession and continuous ramblings, Y/N was having different and a little bit confusing thoughts.

Sure Chris Evans is an very attractive man, physically speaking. But Y/N doesn't care about looks -much- when it comes to dating or anything for that matter. She thinks what makes people attractive is their personality more than anything, and she knows Chris has the best personality she's ever seen from a person. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to date him or anyone else for that matter. Although, if Y/N was going to date more, then Chris would probably be her number one pick.

"So, what do you say, Y/N," Chris asked, hopeful.

______________________________________________________________

And that's the end of part 1, everyone. Part 2 will be posted....probably next week or so. It is currently one of my WIPs so I'm definitely working on it.

But what do ya'll think will happen next? What will Y/N's answer to Chris be? Will she say yes, or will she say no? Who knows??? Except for me; I know. Also, you're Y/N; Y/N is you, so you better hope that you say something positive back :P Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less. 

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.  

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

 Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

[smallrainclouds]

Tangled starlights

(working title)

Also hc that Hypnos is also working when he sleeping, he does his job as God of sleep. He can also do a normal sleep so he can get rest. But he doesn't get nearly as much he needs.

Part four of marriage AU

No beta.

🌙💤💤🌙

You stood in the dusty room as Hypnos floated around, lighting the candles on the walls. 

You didn't think you would return to this room. Not after what happened a few days ago. Your stomach twisted in anxiety. You weren't upset exactly but you didn't expect such a strong response. 

"And no one has kept up with the library?" You asked. You didn't want to think about *it* right now.

You walked along the shelfs, the scrolls seemed to be calling for you. 

"Mother made this place before Hades took over the house for her and he didn't deem any of this stuff important." He replied, and pointed to a door at the far end of the room. 

Hypnos waved a hand around. "There are more in that room also. When she was younger, she used to collect as many stories and knowledge as she could. But she never took the time to actually organize it." 

Hypnos lit the last candle and floated down to stand. He kept some distance between You and him. Only his bright eyes followed you around the room as you wondered.

"If you don't want to, it's totally fine. This is a lot-" 

"N-no. I want to!" You shook your head. "I helped Athens with her library the few times she needed to update it." 

You stopped and turned with a smile. "Also I like a good story and I don't doubt that your mother has some great ones in here." 

Hypnos returned your smile and you tried not to think about how close he was last night.

"Great! I'll get Dusa to help you clean up the dust in here."  He glanced around the room, "And maybe some chairs and tables." 

"Yes. Might be helpful." You teased him. And felt a little warm at his laugh.

🌙💤💤🌙

Several hours in and you were bone tired and dusty.  

So.Very.Dusty.

"Hey Dusa! How is it looking up there?" You called out.  Dusa quickly floated to You. Her green, shiny skin was now dark gray with dust but that didn't stop the beaming smile. 

You smiled back, already so fond of Dusa. It felt like You had spent a day with one of your sisters. 

"I think we got all the dust! I'm just sorry we had to remove all the scrolls out of their place."  She glanced at the piles of scrolls in the corner, carefully stacked together.

You shook your head, "It's okay. I've been told it was already a bit of a mess so no harm done."

"O-oh good!" She bobbed in the air. " I think-"

"Oh wow, I didn't realize we had so many scrolls."  An male voice drifted through the door. 

You and Dusa both turned toward the door, surprised at the visitor. 

Zagreus stood, hands on hips as he looked at the pile that loomed over him. 

"O-oh Prince! Be careful!" Dusa rushed over to him. You followed, of course he will show up when you and Dusa were both a mess. 

"Don't worry, I won't touch it." Zagreus smiled at You. " Sorry for coming at a bad time. I heard from Mother Nyx that Hypnos' wife was taking over the library. And I realized I haven't induced myself yet. I'm Zagreus.

"My name is Y/N and I would shake your hand but…" You held up your hands, covered in dust and grime. 

"Of course. If you ever need anything, just let me know." Zagreus' mismatched eyes studied your face as he said it.

"Thank you, Prince Zagreus. Dusa has been an amazing help already."  You tilted your head to Dusa who blushed.

"O-oh it is not a problem! I'm happy to help!" Dusa murmured.

"Dusa is amazing isn't she? Our hardest worker for sure." Zagreus praised, he sounded so proud of her. 

"Oh oh my, excuse me! I- I need to get cleaned up." Dusa rushed out, her blush visible even with the dust

"Oh dear." Zagreus said. "We might have been a bit much. But it is good that she hears it. Goodness knows Father doesn't understand how hard she works for this house."

You weren't quite sure what to say. You didn't want to take sides yet or ever if it can be avoided. You have seen too many times what happens when two gods get into a fight with each other. 

"You'll have to forgive me but Dusa is right. A hot bath sounds like a dream right now." You smiled at him, glad for the excuse. 

"Of course! I will leave you to it, Y/N!" Zagreus nodded and waved goodbye as he left.

You sighed. Hopefully this room will be worth the trouble.

🌙💤💤🌙

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so relaxed. There was nothing like a hot bath, you mused.

You tore off a part of the warm bread and popped it into your mouth. You eyed the pomegranate but went for the olive. Save the best for last you thought.

You laid on top of the covers, feeling like the most spoiled being alive. You went for another olive.

 

What a day.  But at least you were moving forward and now there was a job for you to do. 

inevitably, you thought about Hypnos. He was still at work, you last heard. You knew he slept on the job but that wasn't a rest. Not really. 

You thought about what he said before. How being more powerful than your sisters. No one ever said that, why would they? It is clear what the gods liked. 

Hermes may have the only exception (at least until Hypnos) that enjoyed her powers but even then he never said what Hypnos did. 

Hermes had always pushed a little more, made her try harder to be a little more quick and clever. Your older brother in everything but blood. Hermes had been one of the few people You missed other than your sisters.

He did travel to the underworld sometimes. Maybe you could see him again. Give him letters for your sisters. 

Your eyes drifted closed, the dark red 

canopy were the last thing you saw before sleep overtook You. 

🌙💤💤🌙

There were sounds outside your door. You blinked at the candles by your bedside. They were much lower than before you went to sleep. The only sign that any time had passed at all.

You frowned at your door. It sounded like an argument. You stood and quietly walked to the door. You pressed your ear against it. 

But the bloody thing was so thick, you weren't sure what was being said. 

But you weren't going to just stand there especially after being woken up so rudely. You looked around your chambers for a weapon. Just in case.

You frowned when you realized there was nothing. You would just have to be ready to slam the doors.

With a deep breath, you pushed your bedchambers open. 

The two men outside went quiet. Hypnos and another man You didn't know stood before you.

"Great, just great. Now look at what you did." Hypnos snapped at the other man. 

"Me?" The man snapped back. He was about the same height as Hypnos but unlike Hypnos he wore only dark colors. His scythe loomed over all three as it gleamed even the candlelight. 

"Yes you!" Hypnos grumbled. He turned to You, his normal smile gone. And you couldn't help but notice how much deeper the black circles have gotten. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry. You will have to forgive us for our lack of manners. You can go back to sleep now." Hypnos turned back to the man. "Brother, I think our 'little talk' is done for now. You should be getting back to work right?" Hypnos' tone was sharp.

You didn't realize he could sound like that. Also brother? 

The man frowned, and looked at You then at Hypnos.

"Fine, but you have a duty to the house. You need to grow up at some point." 

Then he turned on his foot and walked away. 

Once he was out of sight, Hypnos sighed as he looked at you. He was floating, the candles highlighted his face.

"I didn't know you had a brother." You stepped out of your bedchambers. You were only in a draped linen gown, a little inappropriate but you were too curious not to know.

"Two brothers, Thanatos and Charon. You just 'met' my twin, Thanatos." Hypnos said.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and your heart twisted. You will ask more about his brothers later. 

"Have you gotten any sleep?" You felt silly asking the god of sleep if he got any rest.  But those dark circles were all the proof you needed.

"Sure, I fall asleep on all time especially on the job!" Hypnos' smiled meanly, his hands spread out in a mock shrug.

"I mean real sleep." You crossed your arms. "Surely, the naps you take aren't enough." 

Almost out of nowhere, a thought came. 

"Wait, what exactly are you doing when you napping?" You asked. 

Hypnos raised an eyebrow and silent took over.

"Does it matter?" He finally responded. 

"It matters. At least to me." You didn't know what to make of this whole argument. There was something you were missing but you don't know what.

Hypnos was silent as he stopped floating. He walked closer, his light golden eyes not leaving your own eyes. You resisted stepping back, staying in place with your arms crossed. You cursed how warm you felt when Hypnos stopped in front of you. 

"My brother is the God of Death. He gets those last few minutes of a human's life. Unbelievably terrifying for those poor humans I imagine." Hypnos leaned forward, his hand pressed against the wall, next to your waist. 

You could feel a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks. "And what do you get?" You asked, hating the small tremble in your voice. 

"One third. Sometimes more than that. Slowly over the years. When I sleep, I can go to humans and give them sleep or take away any sleep they want." 

 

Hypnos' eyes were beautiful and you felt so exposed.

"So you haven't been getting much real sleep at all." You said, tearing your eyes away. On impulse, you reached up to touch the obol. You heard his breath hitched. 

You had to put a stop to this. Or you would do something very foolish.

"Right then come along." You grabbed his wrist and pulled him into your bedchamber.

"Ah…" Hypnos sounded unsure. 

"You need some sleep. I can't trust that you will if I leave you alone in your bedroom." Your blush was getting worse.  "Also I doubt I will be able to get any more sleep. So I'm just going to keep an eye on you while I finish up some letters." 

You cleared off the bed and gestured towards your bed. 

Hypnos just stood there. "You don't-"

You waved his words away. "No one will bother you in here, so just try to get a nap in." 

You sat down at your desk, feeling very foolish. You grabbed a blank paper and started writing down tasks for the library.

You heard Hypnos moved around and settled in your bed. You thought you heard him murmured something but didn't turned around to look. 

 

Eventually you heard his soft breathing. This time you did look. He didn't get under the cover but did take one of the pillows and was on the opposite side you slept on. 

If anyone asked why you allowed this, you just say you were helping your husband as a wife should.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You nodded, and tried not to think how your heart fluttered earlier.

🌙💤💤🌙

Your eyes blinked open. Frowning in confusion, you looked down at your papers.  A blanket slipped off your shoulders and pooled around your feet. 

Last night ( or day) memories flooded back. You had fell asleep at your desk. 

You turned to look at your bed but Hypnos was gone. You didn't like how disappointed you felt. No need for that for that, you scolded yourself. You grapped the blanket to return it. 

 

Only when you got closer, did you see what Hypnos left behind. 

On the bed, a bottle of nectar and a note was tucked under the bottle.

'Thanks.' No name or anything, not that You needed one. 

 

There was however a picture of an smiling face next to it.

"Oh Hypnos." You laughed. 

Oh...

Oh dear what have You gotten yourself into to?

🌙💤💤🌙

[aereres]

Ready - Sidney Crosby

Summary: Sidney Crosby - ex NHL star, the new coach of the Pittsburgh Penguins, the man every woman could wish for, a proud father. His daughter, Lily, is his ray of sunlight, the person he'll always love unconditionally, and when his new girlfriend walks in the picture, things take a turn.

A/N: @beauvibaby​ received an ask about this amazing concept and let me write something about it! Thank you sm girl! ❤️ Definitely not one of my best works or something I’m really proud of, but I decided to publish it anyway

Word Count: 7,4k

Warnings: talks of divorce and absent parent, swearing, mentions and allusions to sex, shitty ass writing

Nerves were eating you alive as you waited on the Crosby household’s front steps, your heart hammering against your ribcage. It wasn’t the new environment - you had been inside the mansion many times before - but rather the new acquaintance you were going to make.

She was a character constantly mentioned throughout the first stages of yours and Sidney’s relationship, a really important character. Lily - short for Elizabeth - was Sidney Crosby’s fourteen-year-old daughter, and as much as it scared you to meet your boyfriend’s daughter for the first time, you couldn’t avoid it any longer.

The front door opened quickly, snapping you out of your anxiety-induced trance to meet Sidney’s dark eyes, the smile on his face reassuring you just lightly. “Hi,” he said, voice gentle as always as he took in your sundress-clad body. “Come in, sweetheart,”

The cake you had made for the occasion was slipped out of your hands after a quick second, and Sidney’s hands were soft on your skin as he led you towards the kitchen with a hand on your smaller back.

“Smells good,” you whispered, leaning on the tip of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. You let your head rest on his shoulder as you looked around the house again, remembering the familiar couch where you had cuddled together many times before, but also the kitchen aisle where more than just breakfast had happened.

Your cheeks heated up as the memories replayed in your head, extremely not appropriate for that moment. You were just about to meet his daughter, why were you thinking about your private time with him?!

“Dad, Kailynn is asking if I can go to her sleepover on Friday,” an unfamiliar voice said from the distance, the sound of footsteps making you panic. You distanced yourself from Sidney, smoothing the material of your sundress just before the younger girl walked inside the kitchen, her eyes focused on her phone.

“Lily-”

“Please? There won’t be any boys, I promise,” she interrupted her father, head still down to face her device.

“Lily, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Sidney’s words seemed to snap her attention towards him, her eyes settling on you before giving you a once-over. “Y/N, this is my daughter, Lily,”

“Hi,” you smiled her way, her hand shaking yours hesitantly as she analyzed you. “It’s so nice to meet you, Lily,”

She didn’t reciprocate your words, keeping silent as she sat down at the dining table, looking down at her phone again. You bit your lip, holding back a saddened sigh as you stayed by Sidney’s side, playing with your fingers.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, pushing you closer to his side as he finished cooking, plating the food for the three of you in silence. You found yourself sitting in front of Lily a few minutes later, her eyes looking at you as you awkwardly ate, your hands cold.

“Lily, will you stop that?” Sidney scolded her, dropping his fork on the table as he faced his daughter.

“Stop what?”

“Making things awkward,” he sighed, shaking his head as he poured you a glass of water. “How was school today?”

“Normal,” she mumbled, picking at her peas as she chewed on some salmon. “So, how did you two meet?”

“Oh-” your eyes widened, not ready for her question. “I work as a physiotherapist for the Penguins,”

“So you met at work?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head, taking a sip of your water to push down the lump in your throat.

“Are you in like, college or something?” Lily mumbled, making her father sigh out loudly.

“Elizabeth-”

“She just looks really young, dad!” Lily exclaimed, giving you another once-over as she waited for your answer.

“It’s fine,” you smiled Sidney’s way reassuringly. “I’m twenty-seven, I graduated college a couple of years ago,”

“Dad, what the hell?!”

Your eyes snapped up from your plate when she raised her voice, staring right at her father with anger as she waited for an answer. “She’s basically half your age!”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Sidney warned her. “I can easily call Kailynn’s mom and tell her you’re not going to the sleepover if you don’t drop the attitude,”

“Whatever, I’m not hungry anymore,” she spat out, pushing her plate away before folding her arms over her chest, a scowl on her face as she glared at you. “Can I be excused?”

“No,” Sidney said, clenching his jaw before muttering his next words. “Y/N was kind enough to make your favorite cake, so you’re not excused,”

“Cheesecake?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, sending her a quick smile as you stood up to grab the container inside their fridge. “Your father told me you’ve always liked it,”

She hummed absentmindedly as you helped Sidney take the almost-cleared plates to the kitchen, focusing on the dessert just a few minutes later. You handed her a slice, cutting yourself and Sidney your own pieces as she tasted the cake, an unimpressed look on her face.

“It good, Lily?” Sidney asked with a smile, pressing a small kiss to your cheek when you handed him his plate. She took a few seconds to respond, standing up from her chair and grabbing her phone from her back pocket, checking the notifications before looking up at you and Sidney again.

“Mom’s recipe will always be better,”

She was out of the dining room just seconds later, leaving a saddened you and a pissed-off Sidney on your own. “Elizabeth!” Sidney yelled after the teenager, clenching his jaw when he got no response.

You sighed out as you ran a hand through your hair, sitting down to enjoy your cake in silence as you tried not to get too affected by Elizabeth’s behavior. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Sidney whispered, shaking his head as he sat down next to you, his hand grasping yours on top of the table. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her, she’s never been like that,”

“It’s okay, Sid,” you smiled sadly, putting your feelings aside for one moment to send him a smile. “I probably should have paid more attention to what I was saying,”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ll go talk to her later. Now, let’s enjoy some cake,”

You smiled his way before you pushed your fork to your lips, another bite of the dessert filling your mouth. Your mind moved elsewhere as you thought about the events of the night, and how much Lily’s words had affected you.

You were sure there was more to her, that maybe it just wasn’t the right time. You were convinced she was actually as amazing as Sidney had described her to be: kind, always smiling, the best daughter anybody could ask for.

Thinking about everything Sidney had said about her really made you realize just how close the two of them were, just how much he cared about her. So you gave yourself a mission, a goal.

You were going to make her change her mind about you.

-----

“And God, he was so rude!” You giggled, head resting against Sidney’s chest as you pushed a raspberry in your mouth. “Like, I just asked for this ointment and he literally side-eyed me,”

Sidney chuckled, letting his hand smooth the skin of your thigh as his eyes held yours, fondly smiling your way. “And what did you do?”

“I just paid and left. What else could I do?” You spoke, running a hand through your hair as your eyes focused back on the TV, where a quite boring reality show was playing. “How was work?”

“The usual,” Sidney stated, one of his hands linking with yours as he kept silent, eyes definitely elsewhere. “Evelyn called last night,”

Evelyn. Lily’s mother.

“Said she needed another check to take care of Lily,” Sid sighed, rubbing his forehead as he thought about the conversation again. “My checks are always abundant, generally more than what she could spend for Lily on the weekend, so I don’t get it,”

You sighed, your thumb caressing the back of his hand as the room fell silent. You had wished many times to learn about their situation, just why he had become a single father at such a young age, or why Evelyn had always been barely mentioned throughout the various months spent together.

It was always a silent wish, though, something you kept to yourself. Sidney needed to bring the conversation out on his own, whenever he felt ready. And you were willing to wait.

“I’m home!”

“Hey, Lily,” Sidney called back, muting the TV as you heard various items hitting the floor of the entrance hall. “How was tutoring?”

“Boring,” she sighed, her footsteps coming closer to the living room second after second. By the time she reached the doorway, her eyes found yours, her rather smiley face turning into a frown. “She’s here,”

“Hi,” you smiled, ignoring her glare and Sidney’s clenched jaw. “I brought some snacks, they’re in the kitchen if you’re hungry,”

“No, thank you,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be in my room,”

With that, she was out of the room, running up the stairs before Sidney could even try to get mad at her. He sighed, rolling his head back against the couch as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled, his free hand playing with the ends of your hair as you pushed yourself closer to his body. “I’ve talked to her after dinner, the other day, and I was hoping she’d stop,”

“It’s okay, Sid. I get her,” you whispered, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek as you looked into his dark eyes. “I’d be like that too, if I was in her place,”

Sidney fell silent again, your eyes scanning his face as he focused on the wall in front of him, a serious look on his face. “Hey, mister serious,” you mumbled, positioning yourself on his lap as your hands cupped his cheek, bringing his lips to yours. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, stealing another kiss from your lips before you could pull yourself off his lap. “Where are you going, babe?”

“I’ve got dinner with my friend Sarah,” you reminded him, slipping on your shoes in a rush as you felt his eyes on you.

“Right,” he said, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer, your body standing between his spread legs. “Call me later?”

“Of course,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him once more, struggling to pull away when his hands wandered to your ass. “Hands off, mister. I’m going to be late,”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled, pecking your lips again. “I love you,”

Your heart still hammered against your ribcage whenever he mentioned those three words, no matter how many times you heard them coming from him. “I love you, too,”

Before you could leave the house, you noticed that one of the bags of chips you had brought over was missing. Specifically, the one brand Sidney had told you Lily loved, and you were sure it was still there before the teen came home. She took it.

You left the Crosby household with a smile, that afternoon.

-

“What? No,” you scoffed, digging your fork in your salad as you looked at your friend. “Sarah, drop it. She’s not a brat,”

“Well, it sounds like it,” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her wine before she kept the conversation going. “She’s been giving you hell ever since she met you,”

“But I get her,” you admitted. “I’m crossing her territory and she’s not happy to have me there, especially since I’m dating her father,”

“She literally mentioned your age gap as if you were still underage dating her father, Y/N,” Sarah spat out, her eyebrows raised as she spoke the truth, a sigh leaving your lips. “Didn’t she mention she didn’t like your cake? Where did her manners go?”

“She said her mother’s recipe would always be better,” you mumbled, pushing your food around the plate as you really thought about the situation.

“She basically told you your cake sucks,” Sarah said, honesty coming out of her words as she stared at you. “Y/N, you deserve better than that, come on,”

Biting your lip, you sighed. Sarah was right, you didn’t deserve Lily’s treatment, and you didn’t want Sidney’s relationship with Lily to be destroyed all because of you. That was a nightmare that, in some ways, often kept you up at night. You would have never forgiven yourself, if you ruined Sid’s relationship with his own daughter.

“Listen, I’m in love with Sidney,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “And I will try my best to make things work between Lily and me,”

“That’s good,” Sarah mumbled. “But I still think you deserve to be treated better, especially by a girl half your age,”

“I know,” you sighed. Silence set between you and your best friend as you ate in silence, both of you clearly in your own thoughts.

“You did deliver a hot guy, though,” Sarah started, holding back laughter when you giggled. “I mean, a total DILF, so I get you,”

“Sarah!”

-----

You were humming under your breath, getting the studio clean and tidy at the end of the day with a smile on your face. It was Friday - almost the weekend - and you wanted nothing more than to go home, enjoy a glass of wine in front of the TV, and maybe even chat a little with Sidney, if he was free.

There was something about the weekend that had always made you happy, ever since you were a kid. In elementary school, you were able to spend entire Saturdays and Sundays outside with your neighbors, playing together until the sun would go down; in middle school, you used to take Saturdays to go out with your friends; while in high school, the weekend would be the only free time for awkward dates.

The weekends had taken a turn in college, where you’d get hammered on Friday nights, and spend the rest of your free days trying to recover from the hangover with your friends. They’d become messy, headache-filled, but still the best days of your life.

A knock on the opened door snapped you out of your nostalgic trance, making you sharply turn around to see Sidney standing by the threshold, a smile on his face. “Hey,”

“Hi, coach,” you smiled, his body embracing yours in a soft hug as he pressed a swift kiss to the top of your head. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to see you before I leave,” he mumbled, his face settling in the crook of your neck as he let his lips press a few kisses on your neck. You hummed, leaning into his touch as his hands inched closer to your hips, pulling you firm against his toned chest. There wasn’t room for words as he turned you around, his mouth finding yours hungrily as the two of you acted like teenagers again.

His lips were soft, but their movements were anything but gentle. You had to refrain yourself from letting out a whine - remembering you were still at your workplace and that people were still most certainly around - as your hands made their way in his hair, his arms picking you up and propping you on your desk.

“Come back to mine,” he whispered, breathing uneven as he pushed some strands of hair out of your face.

“What about Lily?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip as he leaned down to press a few other kisses on the side of your neck.

“She’s at her mother’s,” he grumbled, his lips finding yours again in another heated kiss as you smiled, arms wrapping around his neck as you enjoyed another moment with him. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him closer to you just as his hands started to undo the first few buttons of your blouse.

His head dipped to the newfound skin, your head lulling back as pleasure shot down to your core, your mind not thinking straight anymore. His mouth was on yours again after just a few minutes, his hands gentle on your lower back as he kept you close.

His phone was what snapped the two of you out of your trance, your bodies parting as he tugged the device out of his pocket, his brows furrowing when he saw who was calling. There was no hesitation when he accepted the call, his phone pressed to his ear immediately.

“Lily? What’s wrong?”

Your eyes met his worried ones at the mention of his daughter, waiting for any kind of information as he kept silent. “She hasn’t come to pick you up?!” He spoke, clearly angry. Your legs clenched at the sound of his pissed-off voice, but you forced yourself to put the heated making-out session behind you and focus on the moment. “Lily, practice ended an hour and a half ago,”

They exchanged a few other words before Sidney sighed a quick ‘I’m on my way’, pushing his phone back in his pocket as he helped you down the desk. “C’mon, let’s go,”

“You want me to come?” You hesitantly asked, knowing it probably wasn’t the best to intrude between him and Lily.

“Please,” he sighed under his breath, rubbing his forehead as you buttoned up your blouse again. “I’m so sorry, I ruined everything,”

“Hey, hey,” you were in front of him in a second, cupping his cheeks as your eyes met. “It’s no big deal. Let’s go get her now,”

He nodded his head, waiting for you to lock the office before the two of you were headed towards his car, speeding off through the streets of Pittsburgh in silence. Sidney seemed tense, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he stopped the car in front of the gym, where his daughter was standing. When she opened the backseat door, you heard the soft thud of her duffle bag hitting the car floor, soon followed by her silently sitting down.

“You should have called earlier, Elizabeth,” Sidney sighed after starting the car again, his voice slightly rising. “It’s cold outside, why did you even stay there waiting?”

“Can we not have this conversation in front of your girlfriend? Thanks,” Lily muttered, clearly annoyed at your presence. You repressed a sigh, the car filling with silence as you looked out of the window.

“Lily, it’s dark outside, God knows what could have happened to you!” Sidney yelled, carding a hand through his hair as he stopped at a red light, his emotions getting the best of him. “I need you to answer me. Why didn’t you call me?”

Elizabeth stayed in silence, arms folded over her chest as she looked straight ahead, eyes on the street. Silence set between the teenager and her father as he waited for an answer, his jaw clenching as he kept his eyes on the road, almost home. “Elizabeth?”

“I thought she was going to come and get me!” She yelled. “I wanted her to come and get me!”

Sidney had just parked inside their garage, and with her last words, she left the car. She shut the door angrily, leaving you and her father on your own inside the vehicle in silence. A sigh left his lips as he rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, clearly tired.

He hopped out of the car after a few minutes, helping you out of your seat as you silently made your way inside the Crosby household. Lily was nowhere to be seen, the living room was silent, and so was the kitchen. You guessed she was in her room, the place you had learned she loved the most.

Sidney didn’t talk much throughout the night, exchanging a few words with you just to order dinner and to ask you to stay the night. It was a no-brainer for you, with a whispered ‘yes’ you smiled his way, feeling reassured when he sent you a small smile back.

He seemed to be unreadable, no kind of emotion showing as he mumbled something about going to take a shower, his voice barely a mumble. Lily’s plate of food was sitting in front of you, her chair empty. It felt quite lonely to sit on your own at an empty table.

You grabbed her plate, walking towards the kitchen to heat it up as you let your thoughts crowd your mind, a long sigh leaving your lips. It was clear that with her words she wanted to express how much she wished for her mother to actually take care of her, to treat her like a daughter.

You dragged yourself up the stairs with her plate in one of your hands, your nerves yelling at you to go back downstairs. When you were faced with her door, you studied the banner with her name attached to it: it was a deep shade of purple, definitely a big contrast to the white wood of the door.

With your last ounce of courage of the night, you knocked on her door. “Lily? I brought you food,”

There was no answer from her, so you took it upon yourself to leave her plate on the floor, guessing she might have wanted to eat on her own. You headed towards the master bedroom soon after, closing the door behind yourself when you saw Sidney standing inside the ensuite, only clad in a pair of boxers.

You walked up to him, circling his waist with your arms as you let your cheek rest against his back. “I brought her food,” you whispered, pressing a kiss on his shoulder blade.

“Thank you,” Sidney sighed, letting one of his hands slip inside yours. “For everything,”

“Don’t worry about it,”

You stayed like that for a while, your body close to his as he got himself ready for bed, parting only when you decided to take a shower, too. When you climbed in bed next to him, he seemed to be snapped out of a trance, his arms embracing you in a hug.

“I can’t believe Evelyn didn’t pick her up,” Sid sighed, burying his face in your hair. “It was clear in court, she needs to take care of her daughter,”

“Why is she so distant with Lily?” You asked, voice as thin as a whisper as you traced the prints on his shirt with the pad of your index finger.

“I have no idea,” Sidney mumbled. “Ever since we got divorced it’s like she hates the kid that we’ve both created,”

He stayed in silence for a while, carding a hand through your hair as he wondered whether it was a good time to let you inside his life even more, to talk about his past and tell you one of the most important stories of his life. The story of his daughter.

“You know, we wanted her,” Sidney started after pushing all his internal worrying aside. “We had been married for a year, and we were ready for a baby. Evelyn fell pregnant after a few months of trying and we were more than happy to finally build a family.

“Lily was born a little earlier than expected, but she was healthy, and we were happy. I spent almost an entire year off, I was training but not going to games, while Evelyn worked from home, we were organized.

“By the time Lily started elementary school, I went back to playing hockey full-time but Evelyn wasn’t happy with it anymore, so she decided to get a divorce. I- I didn’t think she was feeling that way, I felt so shocked,” he mumbled, his arms tightening around your body. “We went to court, I was able to see Lily only during the weekends, and I could tell she wasn’t happy with her mom.

“I had teachers calling me, telling me nobody had picked her up, or that she had no lunch for the day. Lily even went as far as to say something about the entire situation to a friend, who later told her mom, who told the teacher that later enlightened me about the fact that my kid wasn’t being treated right by her own mother,” he sighed, your eyes veiled by a layer or tears at the heartbreaking story.

“So I dragged her to court and I was able to get custody of Lily on the weekdays. Truly the best day of my life after the day Lily was born,” Sidney spoke, his fingers drawing shapes on your smaller back as silence filled the room again.

“You’re a good father, Sid,” you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his. “Don’t ever think otherwise,”

He stayed in silence, carding a hand through his messy curls before settling your body on top of his, his hands oh so gentle on your skin. “It’s late, we should probably go to sleep,” he mumbled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. You nodded your head, agreeing with him as you let your head rest against his chest, hearing the sound of his heartbeat. “Good night, sweetheart,”

“Good night,” you whispered, keeping your eyes open for a little longer when he turned off the lights. Sidney seemed scared: scared to not give a good enough life to his daughter, scared that Lily might not feel loved, scared that it could be his fault.

He didn’t deserve it, was what you thought before falling in a deep slumber, wishing he and Lily could feel better by the time dawn rolled around.

-----

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?”

Sidney’s voice snapped your eyes away from your laptop, making you face Lily standing in the middle of the entrance hall. She was wearing a yellow sundress, dark hair pulled up in a ponytail as she slipped on a pair of sneakers, ready to leave the house.

“What do you mean?” She called, facing her father with a confused look. “I have that date? With the brother of the little girl I tutor?”

“A what?!”

You gripped Sidney’s hand over the table when he slightly raised his voice, side-eyeing him as the teenager’s eyebrows furrowed. “A date,” she repeated. “Dad, I asked you last week if I could go, and you said yes,”

Sidney’s own eyebrows furrowed, making you notice all the similarities the two of them shared just then. Even if Sidney’s hair had silver streaks, Lily shared the same dark shade of curls; you could often see them using the same facial expressions, from the confused looks, to the way their noses would scrunch up any time something didn’t make sense to them. Lily was Sidney’s copy, and the best way to really notice it was during arguments, as bad as it sounded.

“Well, I probably wasn’t in my right mind, back then,” he spat out. “You can take your shoes off, you’re not leaving the house,”

“Dad!”

“Elizabeth, you’re too young to go on dates,” Sidney spoke, his palm leaving yours when he folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know who this guy is!”

“Dad, you literally know his parents,” Lily whined, carding a hand through her hair as she sighed out. “And we’re only going out for ice-cream,”

“I don’t care,” Sidney stated, stubbornly keeping eye contact with his daughter. “You’re not going out with him, and I won’t change my mind,”

“Sidney,” you scolded him, his eyes moving towards yours as he turned around to face you.

“What? Don’t you agree with me?” He asked, Lily’s distant footsteps making you realize she had gone to her room.

“She’s almost fifteen, Sid, and it’s just an ice-cream date,” you sighed, lifting your eyebrows slightly at his clenched jaw. “I went on my first date when I was her age, and it went just fine,”

Sidney kept silent after your confession, staring straight ahead of himself as you looked at him, waiting for any kind of reaction. Lily had seemed to be hurt by his words, especially since she looked more than happy to go on her first-ever date, and you at least wanted him to realize that.

“Sid?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, sighing heavily as bit the insides of his cheek. “She can go, but only if we tag along,”

You jokingly rolled your eyes at his rule, standing up from your chair to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go talk to her,” you whispered, ignoring the way your heartbeat had just picked up at the thought of having an actual conversation with Lily again.

By the time you reached her bedroom door, you were more than nervous. Your hand was shaking as you knocked on the door, waiting for any kind of response from her. “Lily?”

“Y/N, go away. This is not the right moment,” you heard her say, voice strained and distant.

“Lily, I need to talk to you,” you gently said, playing with your fingers. “Can I come in?”

There wasn’t a proper verbal answer, but the door snapped open after a few seconds of shuffling, and you quietly entered the dimly lit room. It felt strange to walk into her personal world, her room representing her in some kind of way.

A large bookcase filled with novels caught your attention from the start, a smile forming on your lips when you noticed the fairy lights that gave the room its quite cozy vibe. Lily was laying on her bed, face buried in her pillow as she stayed in silence, only sniffles coming from her.

“Lily-”

“I just don’t get it,” she sniffled, sitting up as she wiped a few tears from her cheeks. “I asked him, and he was okay with it,”

You felt shocked at how open she was, considering just how much she didn’t want anything to do with you, but sat down next to her. “What was he doing when you asked him?”

“He was on the phone,” she admitted after a beat, playing with her hands in her lap when you sighed, knowing that Sidney was never as concentrated as he usually was when he was on the phone with someone. “But I thought he had put the other person on hold, and that he was listening to me,”

“I know how you feel, Lily,” you admitted, smiling softly at her as you stood up and reached for her mascara sitting on her desk. “When I was your age, my dad was really protective of me, too,”

“He was a little pissed off when I asked him if I could go on a date,” you mumbled, lifting her chin up gently as you opened the small bottle. “But my mom made him change my mind, and I was able to go play bowling with the weird kid that sat behind me in Spanish class,”

Lily suppressed a giggle. “And how did it go?”

“It was really awkward. Never went on another date with him, after that,” you laughed, applying a light layer of makeup on her lashes carefully as she looked up at you. “And you’re ready to go,”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon get up,” you smiled, holding out a hand to her as you stood up from your spot on the bed. “Your dad is allowing you to go,”

“What?!” The smile on her face was priceless when she processed your words. “Really?”

“At only one condition,” you lifted up a finger, jokingly mocking Sidney’s voice. “You can go, but only if we tag along,”

Lily giggled, nodding her head as she slipped her shoes back on, a smile on her lips as she did so. You were about to leave the room in silence to get ready yourself, but Elizabeth’s voice stopped you.

“Y/N?” She called for you, voice hesitant. Your eyes met, a frown forming on her lips as she tied her shoes. “I’m sorry, for everything,”

“It’s fine, Lily,” you whispered, sending her a reassuring smile.

“It’s not,” was all she said as she stood up. “I wasn’t ready to see my dad with someone else, and you came in, and you’re so perfect, and I don’t know why I acted that way,”

You wrapped your arms around her at her confession, her body reciprocating the hug in just a few seconds as comfortable silence filled the room. You had to hold back a tear as you pulled back, smiling down at her. “We’re fine, Lily,” you whispered. “Now, it’s better if we get going. Don’t wanna be late, do we?”

She smiled up at you, shaking her head before looking back inside her room, mumbling something about having to find her purse. As you made your way down the staircase, the sight of Sidney standing by the front door with a beaten-up look met your eyes, making you chuckle. “Is she okay?” Was all he asked, his hand finding yours when you stepped in front of him.

“More than okay, now that she gets to go on her date,” you whispered, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Are we ready?” Lily yelled from the stairs, a happy smile on her lips as she made her way down in a rush, throwing herself in her father’s arms quickly before opening the door.

“We are,” Sidney spoke, smiling at her silent way of thanking him as he followed her outside, dragging you along by the hand. The drive was filled with soft music from the radio and excited giggles coming from Lily, and by the time you reached the parlor, the teenager was more than ready to throw herself out of the car.

Sidney was about to follow her - probably to have some words with the guy - but you stopped him, a hand on his bicep as you made eye contact. He sighed, understanding what you meant with just a look of your eyes, sitting back in the driver’s seat.

“Have fun, Lily!” You cheered, sending her a smile as she shut her door, waving towards the two of you as she walked away.

The smile on your face didn’t leave as you took a look at Sidney, who was focusing on the rearview mirror a little too much, trying to see Lily and her date and what was happening.

“Oh, Sidney,” you laughed, slipping your hand in his to give his palm a squeeze. “Let them at least grab ice-cream, before you judge the guy,”

“Hey! I’m not judging anyone!” He scoffed, smiling your way when he saw the look of fondness on your face, your hands cupping his cheeks before you leaned in for a kiss.

“Sure, mister serious,”

-----

The sound of the Penguins’ game playing on Sidney’s TV was filling the living room quite loudly, your eyes following the movements on the screen as you mindlessly stuffed your mouth with popcorn.

It was a Thursday night that would have been perfect, if Sidney was home. He had been in Vancouver for two weeks, instead, so far away from you it almost hurt. You had grown so accustomed to his presence around the mansion, after moving in with him and Lily, that it physically hurt to see him leave, even if it was just for a few days.

The house always felt quite empty when it was missing his laughter, or his music that Lily couldn’t stand, or even his booming voice when he heatedly spoke on the phone. In some way, every single part of you was missing him. Sitting in front of the TV on your own often made you realize that: just how lost you felt without him, without his presence, or his support.

On the other hand, Lily was the ray of sunshine that made your days just a little better, when he wasn’t around. Maybe it was the bubbly personality that she had slowly shown you, or maybe the inside jokes you had grown to share.

Lily had opened up to you after the ice-cream date - and even when you had thought things between you and her still felt quite tense, the smile on her face when Sidney had told her you were going to move in was enough to make you think otherwise.

Sidney appeared on the screen for a quick second, but the sound of the front door snapping shut was what brought you out of your thoughts, a smile on your face when you realized Lily had finally come home.

“Hey, Lily!” You got no response from her, only hearing her shoes hitting the floor before she made her way towards the living room. “How was tutoring?”

“Good, until James decided to be a dick,” she sighed, flopping on the couch with her eyebrows furrowed.

“James as in your-almost-boyfriend? The one from the date?” You asked in shock, pushing popcorn in your mouth when Lily nodded her head. “No way,”

“I was doing maths with his little sister, and he had the great idea to interrupt us by coming in with his friends,” Lily started to explain, clearly pissed off at her peer. “They were screaming and it was so hard to hear the little girl talk,”

You shook your head in annoyance, handing her the bowl of popcorns as you focused for a second on the TV, checking the score. The Penguins were winning, but the Canucks weren’t ready to surrender.

“Eventually, they calmed down and went to the living room,” Lily continued. “But I heard them talk about some bet, and it didn’t take a while for it to click in my brain,”

“A bet?!”

“A bet, that’s all the date was!” she repeated, nodding her head at your shocked face as she let her arms fold over her chest. “I confronted him about it and he even tried to play nice and act as if he had been forced to do it!”

“No way,” you whispered, jaw slack as you watched her for any kind of reaction. “I’m so sorry, L,”

“It’s fine,” she huffed, stealing a handful of popcorns as she gave her phone a quick look. “It’s not like he was the best almost-boyfriend anyway,”

You giggled, pulling her closer as the two of you silently watched the game, your heart skipping a beat every time they showed a concentrated version of Sidney - hair perfectly styled and suit neatly ironed.

He seemed tense, eyebrows furrowed as he shared a few words with the team, or watched his players skate around the rink. His concentrated look was something you had fallen for, painting his face so many times on a daily basis you sometimes got worried his muscles got stuck.

Sidney Crosby was fascinating, to say the least.

“Don’t tell dad, though,” Lily whispered from your side, still thinking about what had happened with James. “He already didn’t want me to go on the date with him, if he had to know about this, he’d probably kill James,”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” you whispered back, carding a hand through her hair just as the Canucks scored, making the both of you groan out in unison.

“Oh no,” Lily sighed, giggling soon after. “He’s gonna talk about this goal for the next week, I’m so sure,”

“He is,” you agreed, holding back a chuckle as you stood up from the couch, heading towards the kitchen to grab more snacks for the two of you. “Ready for girls’ night?”

“We’re having girls’ night?” Lily asked, a smile on her face as she looked at you.

“It’s always girls’ night, when your dad’s not home,” you winked, coming back with enough chips and candy to keep you full for an entire weekend. She giggled at your words, shaking her head before heading upstairs to get changed.

As you got settled while waiting for her, you hoped to stay awake just enough to be able to see Sidney. He was supposed to be home early the next morning, and you were willing to stay up the entire night on your own if it meant you’d get to hug him as soon as he’d be back.

When Elizabeth came back down the stairs in her pajamas, she said the words that in some way, reminded you of Sidney. They left his mouth just so often, and you had connected the phrase to him.

“Are we ready?”

You smiled up at the teen, nodding your head as she sat down next to you, draping a blanket over her legs. “Ready,”

-

The sound of Lily’s bedroom door opening woke you up from your deep slumber, your eyes struggling to adapt to the still dark room as Sidney’s frame sat on the bed next to your half-asleep body.

Lily was still lightly snoring by your side, one of her arms holding the bag of chips she had been nursing before falling asleep, the other draped over your stomach. “Hi, baby,” Sidney whispered, carding a hand through your hair as you snuggled your head closer to his thigh.

“Hi,” you whispered back, breathing in his scent as you relished in his closeness. “I missed you,”

“I missed you two more,” he said, bending down to press a quick peck to the top of your head, soon moving towards Lily’s. He stayed in silence for a few moments, your sleepy eyes holding his as you relaxed. He was finally home.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart,” he whispered after a beat, lifting you up in his arms effortlessly just as your eyes started to droop again. With your head against his chest, you sighed in content, letting one of your hands touch his warm skin as if to make sure he wasn’t just a dream.

By the time you were carefully let down onto the expensive - and way too soft - comforter, your eyes were still staring up at his. The covers were pulled over your body by Sidney, giving you just enough time to read the digits on the clock standing on his bedside table.

It was well past three in the morning, the moon still shining in the darkness of the night as you tried to keep yourself awake to enjoy a moment with the love of your life after the two weeks spent apart. He had turned his back to you, his opened button-up sitting on his shoulders as he took his wristwatch off, the sight leaving you speechless.

“You should close your eyes, my love,” he spoke, a gentle smile on his lips as he looked at your mirror reflection. “It’s late,”

“I need you close,” was all you whispered, biting on your lip when he finally undressed, joining your body underneath the warmth of the duvet. He pulled you in closer, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss as you tried to keep a few happy tears at bay, way too tired to contain your emotions.

“Sid,” you whispered as soon as you pulled away, catching his attention as he pressed a swift peck to your forehead. “I love you, so much,”

He smiled at you, biting on his lip as his hands rubbed your smaller back. “I love you more, Y/N,”

“I- I feel so empty when you leave,” you admitted, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest as you revealed the feelings you had been developing for months. “You’ve become the best part of me, and I don’t think I could ever be able to live a life without you,”

Sidney was silent as you talked, carding a hand through your hair as he listened to you, trying to impress your words in his mind. “I don’t want to spend my life with anybody else but you and Lily. Fuck, I don’t even know where I would be, if we hadn’t crossed paths.

“I know that maybe it’s too soon, and that it might not be the right time, but I just felt like telling you. You’re the one that I want, for the rest of my life, even when I’m old and ugly,”

Sidney suppressed a chuckle at your words, leaning his forehead against yours as you stopped for a second. “I don’t think you could ever become ugly, darling,” he admitted, his nose touching yours as you giggled softly.

“That’s not my point,” you jokingly slapped his chest, your eyes meeting his again as you formulated your next phrase in your head. “I’ll be waiting for you, Sid. I’ll be here when you’ll be ready,”

He stared at you with a smile as you finished your monologue, his heart beating so fast against your palm it almost got you scared. After splitting with Evelyn, he never thought he’d be ready. He hadn’t been ready to leave the house, the first few days after the divorce. He hadn’t been ready to love someone as much as he had loved Evelyn, until you came along.

It felt like old Sidney came back, when you became part of his life. He was happy, genuinely ready to love again, and you were the angel that made it happen, the reason why he felt ready, after all that time.

“I’m ready,” was everything he said, eyes staring deep into yours as he let his forehead touch yours, his words making your heart leap out of your chest. “I’m ready,”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch​ @bellaguarneri​ @boqvistsbabe​ @trashforbarzal​ @captaindaddies​ @keithseabrook27​ @heatherawoowoo​ @sidscrosbyy​

[bunnykawa]

hungry (osamu miya x f. reader)

summary: You have a big crush on the handsome owner of an onigiri shop. He thinks it’s annoying. Or does he?

a/n: eh idk what this is. timeskip love haha. but this might be a triggering so please keep that in mind and read the warnings

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, noncon/dubcon/rape, raw sex, kinda public sex?, some degradation, little bit of spanking and hairpulling, abusive language, violence, stalking, mentions of past sexual abuse, you vomit but it's not sexualized it's trauma-induced, timeskip!osamu :)

The energy of the restaurant is oddly calm tonight. Nights are almost never tranquil at Onigiri Miya with the constant parade of people coming in, so you hum in satisfaction when you scan the restaurant and there's barely anyone here. You stare down at your half-eaten onigiri and the loyalty stamp card that you filled up from how often you come here. After nine visits, you get a free onigiri on your tenth one as long as you show them your stamp card. 

This is your hundredth visit—you remember because the first time you entered Onigiri Miya was ten stamp cards ago. The staff already know your name, if not by your face and your timid behavior that makes you stutter when ordering the same thing every time they see you. As peculiar as they think you are (for coming to Onigiri Miya at the same time on Fridays and Saturdays for the past six months and sitting alone quietly until they close), they warmly welcome you.

It's only you in the dining area tonight. The few employees that Onigri Miya has must have left earlier than usual. You suddenly tense up in your seat and grip onto your cup of freshly-poured hot tea tightly between tremulous fingers. The familiar male figure, standing at over six feet tall with beautiful broad shoulders, passes by the front counter, disappearing as he makes his way to the back. 

After you let out a harsh breath, you adjust your phone from behind your purse on the table. Your phone is propped up behind it, the camera lens slightly peeking over the faux leather. Butterflies form in your stomach when you see that you were still recording and you caught him on camera. 

Yes, you go to Onigiri Miya because the food is amazing. Somehow, they make a dish as simple as a rice ball so delectable and appetizing and you adore them because of it. But hyperfixation is a fucking bitch, your thought process is a little flawed, and the real reason why you frequent the establishment is because Osamu Miya is absolutely gorgeous. Every time you see him, you're left wondering what it would be like to run your fingers through his dark hair or how his lips feel pressed against yours. Your thoughts run wild. How does he like his eggs in the morning? What's his family like? Does he sleep on the right side of the bed? Left side? In the middle? Does he have space for you on his bed? 

How does it feel to be loved by Osamu Miya?

Every time you visit the restaurant, visibly nervous with anxiety beating in your chest and your throat closing as you try to speak, you feel that you're one step close to finding out. And maybe you did feel it once. Just once. You're unsure if that one special moment you shared with Osamu was genuine from his heart with good intentions, but you would do anything for that feeling to last forever. And if that made your whole being feel as if you were floating, then why wouldn't it be the same for him?

So, that's why you're here. To relive that special moment in the way that you fantasized about—something that can become a fond memory instead of a dream deep inside your head that leaves you yearning for physicality. Desire is the only sensation that you've felt for the past six months and it's torture to watch the man that you've fallen in love with barely acknowledge you as a person even if he's seen your face in his restaurant consistently every week since you first met. Since he saved you. 

Six months later. Six months to move on. Six months to get help and yet you're still digging your hands into your panties and biting onto your sheets to gag yourself because of one man after every visit to his restaurant.

"Hey."

Oh, that voice makes your thighs tremble every time you hear it. As stoic and impassive as it is, it's the same voice that gave you solace when you were beaten down in the dark to bleed on concrete. You're gritting your teeth—nearly moaning at the sweet sound—as that voice almost breaks you out of your thoughts. Almost. 

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Osamu asks in a deadpan tone from his place behind the counter. You jolt suddenly. For someone who's so obsessive with small details, you sure don't pay much attention to your surroundings. You quickly shake your head when you realize that he's talking to you. 

"Y-yes. I'm...I'm fine, O...samu," you squeak in embarrassment. You don't realize it, but you're clutching onto your stamp card with white knuckles. His gray hooded eyes seem to be staring right through you, as if he knows why you're here tonight, what you're looking for. But whatever he does notice, he doesn't mention. His eyes dart down to your purse before he maintains eye contact with you. 

He places his hand on the counter to lean on it. The small action makes your mouth dry. He's so fucking beautiful. "It's almost ten-o'clock. I'm gonna close up. You should leave soon." 

But you don't want to leave yet. Tonight was supposed to be the night that you finally made your dreams come true. It's only him and you in the restaurant tonight, so it must mean something.

"Where...where's the rest of the c-crew?" you ask shakily. Fuck, get yourself together. You just need an excuse not to leave. And he might know your name, but he doesn't know you. Not yet.

He raises a thick eyebrow at your question before answering, "Left early tonight. Just me taking care of the shop." You should have noticed. This is why you leave your phone recording while you're there—you don't want to miss anything in case you get distracted.

But does he want you to leave? Your heart aches at the thought of him not wanting your presence when you've been craving his for so long. "I see," you mutter awkwardly.

What do I do now?

"You've got a lot of nerve, you know that?" he says after a few seconds of awkward silence. You haven't moved from your seat and neither has Osamu moved from his spot to "close up" as he said he would. You wonder if the door is already locked.

"What do you mean?" Your heart is thumping more now than it has in the past three hours you've been here. Osamu lives in your brain rent-free yet you can barely breathe around him. Now he's speaking to you. Actually speaking to you.

"You know exactly what I mean," he calmly accuses you. The unexpected shift in his tone makes your blood run cold. "Wonder if your phone has run out of storage yet. Funny you go out of your way to come here twice a week just to record me."

"What?!" you cry out, suddenly shooting up from your seat. Your chair skids a few inches across the floor behind you before it tilts and hits the ground with a crash. The quick movement causes the table in front of you to shake and make your phone to fall back as well, the screen smashing against the wood and the camera lens facing up towards the ceiling. You feel like you're about to have a heart attack. Your vision goes blurry from tears suddenly threatening to overflow because were you that obvious?

"I noticed. A long time ago. Remember you from that night back in the alley. Very unique face you got there," Osamu hums. He steps around the counter to make his way towards you. You cower into the wall beside your table, your eyes darting from your phone and Osamu's threatening figure.

Back in the alley. The image of the back alley behind Onigiri Miya flashes in your mind. Dark, wet, and sadly gray. That's where you first met him.

"Didn't expect to see you back here. Thought you might've developed PTSD or something with how you were crying. Now you're stalking me." 

"No," you loudly plead, shaking your head side to side, "I don't know what you're talking about!" You're lying straight through your teeth. That's funny—you've been coming to his restaurant for a chance to see him again, but he's coming closer and closer and you're terrified instead of happy. Your knees buckle as you press your back against the wall. You squeeze your eyes shut as the memories come flooding back into your system in vivid detail. 

He continues on, "Don't even lie to me. Stalking me like a crazy bitch. I wasn't sure what I should do about you. I felt bad for you and let you continue doing this, even thought about calling the police for a little bit, but…"

Osamu almost never talks to you, maybe a few times where he's handling the register and the orders and he has to talk to you, but he's always in the open kitchen where you can freely admire him when you want to, always an arm's length away. When you would think about what your first conversation together would be like, you always imagined his words to be kind. Sweet. Maybe he'd say he admired you—

"...you're a little fucked up in the head, huh?" 

His tone is hostile. There's no love laced in any of the syllables falling from his tongue. He's annoyed. He hates the fact that you want him—it's that obvious but you don't want to believe it, especially when you think you worked so hard. It's not fair.

Your mind is hazy as he's coming closer and closer to your trembling form. You see his lips moving and the calm expression on his face turn into hard evil, but your ears can't decipher what he's saying. His words have faded into white noise. And you've seen him multiple times, traced his face through the screen of your phone, admired him from afar at the same spot in his restaurant for months, but his face is sharper, harsher, and almost unrecognizable. Is this really the man that saved you? Is this really Osamu Miya?

Your blood is pumping loudly in your ears. It's the only sound that you can make out other than your heavy breathing. God, if he gets any closer...

Then, the adrenaline kicks in and you're lunging at him with your arms outstretched towards his large frame. You don't know what you're going to do and sure as hell you're no match for him, but your body is screaming at you. Your senses are running wild, like the aura that Osamu is emitting is lighting you on fire and making you act on primal instinct. It's telling you to fight. 

To fight him. To bash your tiny fists against his handsome face because he should have fallen in love with you the moment that you fell in love with him, but he has the audacity to leave you hanging for half a year and call you a stalker.

And it's painful. You're not sure which hurts more, but at this moment, the physical pain is excruciating. You can't breathe anymore, not when his calloused hands (from years of training on the court, which you found out from the internet, and in the kitchen) are wrapped around your throat. You can't think straight either—your head hit the ground a little too hard and the world is spinning. Osamu's face is contorted in anger and even if your world is spinning, his features are as clear as day. 

Your memories start crashing down inside your brain in fragments. The pain, frustration, and sadness hit you all at once—it’s nauseating. It’s as if Osamu can sense this, too, because as soon as he notices your sick expression, he flips you over to force you on your knees with one arm around your waist, his hand in your scalp to hold your head in place towards the floor and then you’re heaving and gagging out the rice balls you consumed earlier. Your throat is on fire and you're still coughing up pieces of rice.

“You gross bitch,” he mutters.

You gross bitch.

It's bouncing around in your ear drum until it fades into cotton, a familiar set of words that cut you deep that you were able to pick up on easily among the other curses he's been throwing at you. The same words from six months ago. A trigger? Yeah, that's what the internet calls it. You almost died, or at least that's what it felt like. That's the only way you can describe it, the only way you were able to make sense of what happened, because you feel that you might as well have. 

It was from someone else's mouth—a disgusting, grimy man whose face haunted your dreams for months, a man with greasy fingers that put his hands on you, who beat you until you were nearly unconscious with blood dripping down your chin, who ripped you away of your pride and worth until you were nothing. The concrete was wet and cold, scraping against your sensitive skin and breaking through layers as he rutted into you. His breath fucking stunk and for fuck's sake, you don't know if you've seen anyone uglier, but as fucked up as it is, he made you feel ugly. 

You thought you saw an angel that day. The backdoor to Onigiri Miya opened up and when you finally opened your eyes and looked up, there he was—with blank gray eyes that stared down at the scene before him in slight disgust, and then he ripped the repulsive body off of your half-naked form. You were too weak. 

While you were weak and scared and incoherent, Osamu saw you and didn't hesitate to protect you. At the end of every dream you've had since then, Osamu always came to help you. 

And that should've been the end of it. That should've been the last time. You can't go through that again. No, no, no. You don't deserve to go through that again. 

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve it.

You're more responsive and awake once Osamu bends you over the table you were sitting at, then your senses are overloading, telling you to resist, to keep fighting. You're so tired, at this point you're completely heartbroken, but you can't—you can't just give up yet. He's holding you down, restraining your wrists with one hand while his other hand is at your waistband pulling your shorts down your thighs. You're kicking at him with whatever strength you have left even if the taste in your mouth is vile, he's much stronger than you, and your head is pounding from the anxiety. You're grateful that you can even breathe.

But it feels like your body has failed you, once again, and for a second you think that you do deserve it. The adrenaline is almost gone, you can barely lift a finger, you feel like passing out, and—fuck—you're so stupid, so dependent on one person to make you feel high. With Osamu...you don't even know what to think. The image you dreamed of is long gone. It's sad that reality can crash over you so easily and ruin everything. 

"Get off of me!" you scream. Over and over again. Until your voice cracks and your throat is on the brink of bleeding, coughing out your poor lungs. Until it's nothing but the essence of your torment. Your cup of tea, now warm, has spilled all over the table and is slowly seeping into your hair as your cheek rubs against the wood. And there's nothing else you can do, because Osamu is still behind you with your hands trapped by his. Your shorts and your panties are around your ankles. His jeans are unbuttoned and it's out. 

You don't want to fight anymore, you're fucking terrified. So terrified that you can't bring yourself to move. As soon as you stop fighting, his breathing becomes steady and he's using less force on you. Sobs rack through your body hysterically when you feel it.

It's throbbing against your thigh—warm, leaking precum, long, and thick. The skin-to-skin contact in such an intimate area is making the hairs on the back of your neck rise. That tiny voice inside of your head is telling you to look back at it to see if his dick matches the image you made up in your head. Is it exactly how you pictured it? Is it as pretty?

He's wiping his precum against your tense skin. When you flinch at the tip of his cock rubbing against you, he bites his lip and kneads one of your ass cheeks with his free hand, spreading your holes open and ever so gently brushing his thumb over your pussy. 

"You're...wet," he comments. You hear it. He dips his thumb between your folds and swipes it up and down and you hear the squelching of your cunt over your heavy breathing. That's—that's not right. No, you shouldn't be feeling this way. He pushes his thumb deeper into your cunt and slowly pulls it back out. You flinch and arch your back slightly at the sudden sensation, making you push your ass towards him. He lets out a breathy laugh at your reaction. 

His thumb disappears for a second but it's instantly replaced with his dick probing at your entrance. With a roll of his hips, he breaks through your squishy flesh with some difficulty. 

A loud yelp and a slurry of protests falls from your wet desperate lips. You wriggle your bottom, trying to create space between your two bodies, jerking away from him with whatever strength you have left. However, Osamu keeps going until he's completely bottomed out, filling you up until his tip is flush against your cervix. He lets go of your wrists so he could keep a firm grip on your hips instead. Whenever you moved, it burned.

Stop.

The stretch is unbearable—it's been half a year since you've had someone else inside you. The burn of having your hole forcefully split open wide again against your will has your head going delirious with so many mixed emotions. Fuck's sake, this isn't right and it's been heavily engraved in your brain for months that you have every right to fight back. Although you haven't been thinking straight for a long time, you're still lucid enough for your ears to work and soak up information like a sponge. He's moving, rutting his hips into your hot cunt cruelly. You can still fight him off, maybe you'd win if you tried again. 

But this is Osamu. Your heart fucking aches for him and you want to get away, but it's Osamu drilling into your heat and it's just not fair. It's not fair because your body is still responding to his malicious touch. It's not fair because even if it hurts—and fuck, it hurts so damn much—you're involuntarily grinding your ass into him. It's not fucking fair because you can't hate him.

Why is life never fair?

"No," you sob, "No, no, no. It hurts. It hurts. Please stop." Your hot tears are mixing with the puddle of tea that's pooling underneath your cheek and your tongue still tastes foul from your little episode. You’re scared you might start gagging again.

"Stop?" he muses, "Haven't you been loitering in my restaurant because you've been craving my cock? You wanted this for months and the one time I give it to you, you're telling me to stop?" Osamu slams into your poor little cunt despite your pained cries and babbling. Your pussy is clamping around him, your body trying to accommodate his length and girth breaking into you so suddenly.

"Osamu." His name would've tasted so good if the situation was different. Little did you know that you pushed him passed his breaking point a long time ago. But Osamu knew that you were beyond yours ever since he met you. If only you weren't so fucking weird, maybe then he would've pitied you—maybe he would've genuinely felt something for you. 

What a shame that you fell in love with a man who wouldn't be able to understand you. 

"I'm tired of you coming into my restaurant," he grunts, snapping his hips against yours roughly, "-and treating me like I'm some kind of animal. Do I look like a fucking animal to you?"

You choke, “No. You don’t—that’s not why—please. You don’t understand.” 

“Then tell me," he coaxes. But how do you tell him? Are you supposed to be honest? You're afraid that if you are honest, Osamu will treat you just as badly as he is now. It's also hard for you to collect your thoughts and find a sincere explanation that he could listen to—you're too focused on the many sensations pulsing through you. He raises a bulky arm only bring it down instantly to smack your ass with rough hands. The sudden impact forces you forward for a split second. Then he brings his hand down a few more times, until he's satisfied with the dark red hand print with tiny splotches dotted across your skin. 

Is this a punishment for everything that you've done within the last six months? Punishment for admiring him through sneaky videos and pictures? Punishment for thinking about him all the time? You feel like a criminal, caught red-handed and forced to go through torture and suffer for your ungodly sins. Each time he hits you, you're twitching from the painful sting and praying for forgiveness. 

"Stop it!" you beg through tears, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It hurts so much." Apologies start spilling from your sore throat impulsively. 

I'm sorry, Osamu. 

Please stop, Osamu.

It really hurts, Osamu.

But nothing that comes out of your mouth convinces him, and after awhile it's more like you're trying to convince yourself more. Suddenly the burning in your sensitive cunt is replaced with the inebriating desire and hunger for more friction between your two bodies and it leaves a shameful tint to bloom over you. You're salivating over his dick—you wanna see it so bad even if you're scared—and the guilt is eating at you on the inside. It feels good, actually enough to have you gripping onto the edge of the table and sucking Osamu into your cunt so that he doesn't pull back too far. 

"Don't tell me that it hurts," he groans, "Your pussy is creaming all over me. You can't lie to me anymore."

He's right. You're lying more to yourself than him, though. You don't tell him to stop anymore, settling with swear words and a chorus of Osamu! Osamu! Osamu! It's amazing, intoxicating, and it also makes you feel disgusting. The way his cock fills up your tight pussy perfectly and how his balls are consistently smacking your clit and stimulating it—you're drooling from the pleasure.

"Does it feel good?" he huffs, "Is this what you wanted? To be a cockwhore for me?" 

Your body betrays you and you're left moaning and crying at the same time with breathy words that Osamu can't decipher because you're a complete mess, but he swears he can hear you agree without hesitation. "Y-yes, fuck yes! Your cock is s-so amazing," you cry out, "Hurts so good, Osamu!"

It's not enough. Although you're gradually submitting to him, it's still not enough for the sadistic side of him. He wants to hear more of you, to push you until you're braindead and nothing more than a hole to stretch and tear apart just for the hell of it. He leans over you just to grab you by the disheveled hair on your scalp. Another scream leaves you as he pulls you up to be able to growl in your ear.

"Tell me everything, you whore," he breathes, softly yet maliciously. You try to answer him but the angle he has your neck at from the grip on your hair is choking you. 

"Why'd you keep coming here? Obsessive little bitch. Why're you still here?" It's like he's laughing in your face even if his voice and expression say otherwise. He's mocking your pain, making you relive your trauma as if it was all a fucking joke. As if you’re incapable of feeling pain.

This isn't even supposed to feel as good as it does, yet it does. The way he calls you an obsessive little bitch has your stomach doing flips and your cheeks to flush even more. Then you're confused. You're enjoying his cock forced inside you and it's damn confusing. 

Fuck, it’s enough to further damage your overstimulated psyche and turn you into someone you never thought you would be. An empty shell of the person you used to be because your body doesn’t even fucking feel like your body anymore. Nothing feels real anymore, like you're shifting through universes and living lifetimes but you're stuck in one place at the same time. Why do you always come back here? 

You turn your head to the side, enough for you to see his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, probably from concentration on your slick pussy, and then he notices you staring at him. You don't utter another word, you might just choke and spew if you even open your mouth to attempt to (and holy shit, you don't want to embarrass yourself anymore), but your eyes—they answer his question in heavy silence. It’s enough for him to understand and see right through you. Loud and clear although you don't speak. 

Because you saved me.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out another sob, but this cry is full of guilty pleasure instead with barely any tears. It has you nearly passing out and feeling sick to your stomach and just please—make it stop hurting. But it feels so damn good at the same time, to have the tip of his swelling cock kissing your cervix every time he slams into you, grinding his hips against your sweet cunt. Your body contracts violently as you release your liquids all around Osamu's cock, pushing your ass against his pelvis and knocking your empty tea cup and purse off the table. Intitially, the loud crash makes you jolt but it's nothing compared to how your orgasm crashing over you has you screaming and thrashing around pathetically. 

You're cumming. You're cumming. You can't believe you're fucking cumming. You've never felt this way before and you always believed that sex was painful but you're still cumming long and hard on Osamu's cock. Your juices are being forced out of you.

And you didn't even want it.

You're embarrassed and oddly satisfied at the same time. Your cum is dribbling down your legs and there's no doubt that it's dripping down Osamu's pelvis and thighs, too. He lets go of your hair and your head drops forward onto the table with a thump. You wince at the contact, but you don't move.

After a few silent minutes (silent other than your audible panting) exhaustion finally hits you, and with a heavy breath you completely collapse against the table. You finally stop your death grip on the sides of the table to let them dangle off the edge. Your scalp is sore, it makes your head pound when you move your head even slightly. 

A soft tired gasp escapes your throat in surprise; you feel little pecks going up your back and across your shoulders.

Then there’s feather-light kisses tickling your shoulder that leaves an agitated tingle in your nerves and—why? Why bother being gentle at this point? But the fluttering in your pelvis doesn't stop. He slips out of you just to turn your weak body over so you're laying on your back. You instantly move your eyes further down and—

It's pretty. Prettier than you imagined. His cock is fucking pretty. It's hypnotizing as you scan the vein running underneath the skin and the pink swollen head oozing clear liquid. It's glistening, dripping, with juices. 

Holy shit, those are your juices. 

It dawns on you that you both connected. Although not in the way that you had hoped, definitely not, but...you connected in the most physically intimate way possible. You felt him, his warmth, his damp skin, everything. Your eyes drift upwards. He's breathing heavily, his chest visibly moving. He has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you in place—you're not going anywhere. You don't want to go anywhere. Examining his face, you can see everything, every single detail. His lips, his lidded eyes, his cute nose, the shape of his face, and—wow—Osamu is pretty. So pretty. He's nearly angelic when you take a closer look. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him before.

You hope you're not imagining it, because you see something different behind his blank stare as if he's in as much of an awe as you are while you look up at him lovingly, like he didn't just hurt you. He took you against your will and yet you're staring at him like he just told you that you were his world. Are you a fucking idiot? Are you delusional?

"Do you love me?"

The question leaves him before he realizes his lips are forming the words. Osamu looks down at you, no other emotion laced in any of his handsome features except for distaste and...curiosity? With parted puffy lips and despair etched onto your cheeks, you slowly nod. The glazed look in your eyes draws him closer to your face, scrutinizing every part of your soft skin. He braces his hands on both sides of your trembling form. One part of your cheek is still wet from the tea that spilled earlier and your hair is disgustingly moist from a mixture of sweat and earl grey and you feel anxious again. 

"Okay," he says, voice as monotonous and dead as usual, but also worn out and accompanied with heavy breathing. You tense when he leans even closer, but quickly relax when you feel him kiss your forehead. It's a delicate kiss that makes your heart flutter. Then he trails further and connects your lips. It's short, but wet and sweet. He hadn't kissed you on your mouth the whole night, it probably would have been too weird for him to kiss a sad stalker he didn't know, especially when you vomited on his otherwise spotless floor. The taste of him is lingering on your skin—you're almost afraid to lick your lips in case this'll be the last time you ever have his against yours.

He pulls you into his chest. Your heart might just jump out of yours. His cock is brushing against your shuddering core, hard and sticky, but he doesn't enter you. Osamu simply holds you close, one of his hands in your hair and the other flat against your back. You weakly bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders and dig your face into the crook of his neck. 

Then you cry. You let out a harsh breath and let yourself cry again, shoulders violently shaking and your chest tightening uncomfortably, for the thousandth time tonight even if you're tired and yearning for the comfort of your bed. Slowly, wet tears seep into his t-shirt. Osamu smells good—musky, sweaty, like a man. You don't understand what just happened—it brought you back to six months ago yet it feels entirely indifferent. He smells like a man, but he doesn't smell dirty like the last one who destroyed you.

He continues to hold you as you break down. Osamu thinks he understands, but you—you're more confused now more than ever.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 6

Word Count: 3,753

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 6/?

Warnings: mentions of murder, arson, and blood

A/N: The ending is dark, y'all, dark. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 6

I followed my father inside the house, my hands trembling and sweating. The only topic I believed they would seriously need to talk to me about was the supernatural and the family business. Just as I had told Derek, if I hadn’t met him and Scott, I would have probably joined without a second thought. But I had met them, I had been embraced by them, and I didn’t know what I was going to answer.

I sat across from my parents on the kitchen’s island. They seemed excited, but a bit anxious. Obviously, revealing to your daughter the existence of supernatural beings and the fact that the whole family hunted them wasn’t an easy task. At least, she already knew the most hard-hitting information and she wouldn’t feel blindsided.

“Honey, what we have to tell you is very important, and we don’t want you to feel like we have been keeping this from you on purpose,” my mother started. “But you need to understand that everything we have to say today is nothing but the truth. Okay?”

“Guys, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

“You know that all Argents work at the family company, Argent Arms International, and that at some point you’d probably end up working there.”

“Yeah, dad. The reason I know too much about weapons,” I laughed. I couldn’t let on that I knew more than they thought.

“Well, the company is actually a front for the real work we do behind the scenes, and the reason we’re on the road a lot,” my father started. “Since the start of our lineage Argents have been hunters.”

“Hunters of what?”

“Now, I need you to remember that what I am about to tell you is the full honest truth.” I nodded. “We hunt supernatural creatures, but mainly werewolves. You remember the tattoo I have on my arm that you asked about when you were younger?”

“Yeah, ‘Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent’. French, we hunt those who hunt us. I always thought it was more of a psychological phrase.”

“That’s our family mantra. All Argent generations have been trained since childhood to become hunters one day, Chris and I were the only ones that decided to give you and Allison the choice once you became teenagers to know about our world. It’s completely up to you to join us.”

“So, all the training, physical and with weapons, was all in preparation for this?” My father nodded. I could see the worry in his face of how I would take this news – a one-worded answer was going to shift my whole life. It was one thing to be knowledgeable of this life, it was another to be in the center of all of it.

“We run by a code,” my father explained. “We only hunt those who have been proven to have harmed innocent lives – only adults, no young ones, and no humans. Any hunter that breaks that code is an enemy to our cause.”

“Is that what aunt Kate did?” I spoke in a hushed tone knowing this was a difficult topic for my father, one that we hadn’t touched upon in the time we had been here.

“Yes, it is” my mother answered. Her dislike towards her sister-in-law wasn’t a secret. Mom had always thought of her as arrogant and self-centered – or so she would state when in an alcohol-induced rant.

“Unfortunately, my sister did break the code, but that’s beside the point,” dad interjected. “Sweetheart, we make sure that everyone around us is protected from the creatures that are unknown. So, what do you think? Do you want to join us?”

They both studied my face, waiting on any reaction that could arise from me. All I could think is how my decision could affect the people that had made their way into my life. Allison had accepted, and although her relationship with Scott was strained, she still managed to keep him close. But what if I accepted and all it did was deteriorate all the new relationship I was trying to build?

“Yes.”

After the conversation, my father warned me that training would start soon, after I passed some sort of test. They were happy that I had agreed to join the family trade, but I noticed a sign of worry in my father’s eyes. His whole life had been built around supernatural hunting, so what was he worried about? Whatever it was, he did not express. They had both been called away on a meeting and excused themselves before leaving. With the house to myself, I basked in my decision sitting on the living room couch, petting Brody.

“What do you think, bub? Did I make the right choice?” Brody looked up at me, his tongue hanging out, a smile on his face. A bark came after and I took it as confirmation that I had. “Maybe you’re right. We’ll see, huh? Should I call Derek and tell him?”

At the sound of Derek’s name, Brody barked out happily. I laughed at his reaction and decided to call Derek. It still surprised me that Brody had taken to Derek so quickly – probably had to do with him being a werewolf and an alpha. I clicked on his contact on my phone and waited on speaker for him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice rang out, exciting Brody once more. “Hey, buddy!”

“He’s been very excited to hear from you.”

“I can see,” he chuckled. “I can assume you made it home safely?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“What’s wrong? You sound weird.”

“How can you possibly deduct my tone from over the phone?”

“Intuition, you could say. But seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Well, my parents talked to me about the family business,” I breathed out, nerves building up inside. I didn’t know what his reaction would be, and I hope my decision wouldn’t push him away. “They asked me to join them.”

“And what did you say?” He already knew the answer. Asking was just courtesy.

“I said yes.” He kept quiet for a second, and I truly believed I had ruined our relationship before anything had ever started. “Are you mad?”

“I can’t be mad. I understand why you did it, they’re your family. Why would you think I would be mad?”

“I don’t know. I’m gonna be actively working on hunting you and your kind, that would put a strain on any kind of relationship.”

“And what kind of relationship would that be?” He teased.

“Derek, this is serious. What kind of relationship could we have when we’re born enemies?”

“Allison and Scott seem to make it work. It’s hard, but it’s not impossible.”

“So, sneaking around, worrying every second that we’d be found out by hunters. Seems viable,” I snickered. “And in no way, shape, or form stressful. Believe me, Derek, I have enough anxiety as it is. I don’t need the stress of keeping all my relationships secret.”

“Do you have any other choice?”

“I guess I don’t.”

“The way I see it, (Y/N), is you can use this opportunity and work for both sides. You can protect us from the inside, and hunt those that are a real threat. Like the Kanima,” he stated. It made sense to work with my family to protect my friends, even if my family was hunting them. “And, as much as I hate saying this, you should talk to Allison about this. She seems to be handling this way better than I thought.”

“I will. Thanks, Derek. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting. Sleep well, (Y/N).”

“You too, Derek.”

I hung up the phone and breathed out. My life had turned a lot more complicated than I had ever imagined, and I was sure it was going to turn a lot worse. I had just started dipping my toes in the supernatural pot we were living in, something told me that there was still so much that I didn’t know. And there was one person I knew would have the answers I was seeking.

I grabbed my jacket off the coat rack and got on my motorcycle, a clear route ingrained in my brain. The night was cold, and the breeze nipped at my skin as it blew under my shirt. There was so much I had to learn, and so little time.

The drive wasn’t long, and I was still surprised I remembered the way.

The lights in the McCall house were off, but the car was in front, so I assumed Scott was home. I would have gone to Allison, but I needed to know everything, and I was sure she would try to protect me from the worst of it. Scott seemed like someone I could trust, and being at the center of everything gave him a lot more insight that I could use. I looked around the house and, remembering which room was his, found a way to climb up the side to his window. Hopefully, I didn’t encounter something I didn’t want to see.

Looking away, I knocked on his window – loud enough for him to hear, but silent enough to not alarm his mom. I clutched my jacket tighter as I waited for an answer, the wind finding me easier on higher ground. It didn’t take long for the window to slid open, revealing a very confused Scott.

“(Y/N)?” He rubbed sleep off his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” He stepped aside and let me through. His room was messier than the last time I had seen it, and the bed was disheveled. On his desk, his computer was propped open, and a disarray of papers lived atop the wooden surface.

“Sorry for waking you, but this couldn’t wait.”

“Don’t worry. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” he chuckled. A lopsided smile taking place on his face. “So, what’s up?”

“Tonight, I was asked by my parents to join the hunters, and I agreed. But, going into this, I’m the one that knows the least about this world. Apart from Lydia, that is. I need to know everything you know about what we are up against. I don’t think our parents would have asked Allison and me to join now unless we were facing something truly dangerous.”

“Okay, I get it. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you asking me and not Allison or even Derek? It seems like they would be the natural choice to ask about this.”

“Because they would try to shield me from the most dangerous aspects of what’s happening. Hopefully, you being a third party you’ll be truly honest about the situation we are in.” My tone came out friendly, but the underlying threat was evidently laced with it.

“Alright, where do you want me to start?”

“I want to know everything. No detail left out.”

“For me, this all started last year…”

And everything I learned. Scott had been bitten by Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle, who was alpha at the time. Most of last year he spent learning about his new werewolf life, which he believed he was alone in, until Derek, who came from a long line of werewolves that resided in Beacon Hills. The very same family my aunt had murdered. When he explained that part of Derek’s history, I couldn’t help but tear up. How could he ever stand being near me when my own blood had done that to him? Ripped him from his family in such a horrifying manner. I knew she had killed people but knowing that Derek was one of the survivors made my stomach knot.

He also told me how Derek came to be the alpha, and how Peter had held the alpha title also. And how my aunt had truly died. Everyone’s stories seemed to bundle into the same mess of supernatural chaos.

“Then, Jackson asked for the bite, which Derek gave him. And the thing about the bite, you sometimes turn into something other than a werewolf due to internal issues you could say. So, he became the Kanima, which is a lizard type-creature that looks for a master as we just recently learned. His main objective is to do as his master commands, and in his case, it's killing a bunch of people. He also secretes a venom that paralyzes people, but it didn’t work on you and Lydia.” Me? “Which was really weird – Lydia, we think it has something to do with Peter biting her. But you, we’re not sure. Because there’s no indication as to why you could possibly be immune. Unless you’re not human, but that would mean that Lydia’s not human either, and that doesn’t make sense.”

“Okay, Scott. You’re rambling,” I chuckled dryly, stopping him in his track. How he talked for so long, I did not understand. I believed Stiles was the only one with that ability. “How could you know that I was immune though? I haven’t had any contact with the Kanima or this venom.”

“Well, actually, the day we were making rock crystals in lab, Isaac had left some venom on Lydia’s crystal. You weren’t supposed to taste it, but it was a surprise when nothing happened to you. Have you ever been in contact with any other supernatural beings?”

“Seeing as I didn’t even know my parents were hunters, it’s safe to assume I haven’t. But I think finding out why I am the way I am is at the bottom of the list with this Kanima going around.”

“Yeah, and your family is making it very hard to do so when they’re actively hunting us.”

“They can’t be, they run by a code, and you guys are innocent.”

“But your grandfather doesn’t care. He lifted the code. He’s on a rampage towards all supernatural creatures, us included. They’re even keeping an eye on us at school – with Gerard running it and Victoria being our new teacher.”

“But we have the upper hand in learning about the Kanima, right? I mean, if my family is actively recruiting the younger ones, it means they are up against a threat they don’t know about, and we have the bestiary translated.”

“Kind of. I just have a feeling Gerard knows a lot more than he lets on.”

“Can’t really give insight on a person I don’t know. But anything I find out I’ll be sure to pass it along,” I smiled. “I still can’t believe all of this was happening right under my nose. How did I not notice?”

“It’s easy to ignore when you don’t know it exists. If I hadn’t been in the forest that night, I would be as in the dark as you were.”

“I guess so,” I smiled. “Thank you, Scott. For your honesty, and for trusting me with this information.”

“You’re one of us now, (Y/N). We look out for our own.”

“Thank you, Scott. I’ll leave you now to hopefully catch up on some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“Of course, (Y/N). We’re gonna meet up with Allison in the library to talk about the Kanima. I think it’d be good for you to be there.”

“I will.” My body was outside the house, squatting in front of the window. “Again, thanks, Scott. It’s good to know I have a friend looking out for us.”

“Don’t mention it, (Y/N).” He smiled, scratching his neck trying to hide the blush that had crept to his face. “Get home safe.”

I felt uneasy the whole ride back home. I truly couldn’t fathom how Derek old even spend a second with me after everything my family had put him through. My stomach hadn’t stopped turning, and I felt like I could throw up at any second. He didn’t deserve to have to look at a person that resembled the person that had screwed up his life. The tears started streaming from my eyes before I could stop them. It didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t right.

Somehow I made it back home. I had blacked out at some point and was moving out of muscle memory. I was glad my parents had not made it back home yet — I could let tears cascade without having to hide them. Allison and I had always looked up to our aunt. To us, she presented herself as a confident, independent, and badass woman. I still remember how one Christmas Allison and I had gotten into her clothes and pretended to be her. When Kate found us, she couldn’t help but laugh at the two little irks in front of her. She questioned what we were doing and we told her we wanted to be just like her. I recalled how I told her I wanted to grow up to be her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to take that back. Had I know back then what I knew now, I would have stayed as far away from her.

“This family is all types of messed up. Huh, Brody?” My dog looked up at me, a questioning glance on his face. “What am I gonna do, bub? I don’t think I’m strong enough to face him. I really don’t.”

Brody barked, leaving kisses on my cheeks — a nimble approach to getting rid of my tears. I snuggled closer to him, enjoying his comforting presence. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep well tonight.

I was standing in the middle of Derek’s family home, the only light coming from the moon peeking through the clouds. It was a cold night, and the low temperature was seeping into my bones. My whole body ached and the air smelled of soot. I felt uneasy standing there. Now knowing its history, my heart clenched tightly. I could only imagine the pain that had ensued in what I presumed was an agonizingly slow death. The tears that escaped from my eyes burned into my skin, and my ears rang with an unknown high pitch. I kneeled on the floor, and attempt to catch m breath.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” I stood up, the unknown voice startling me. “The smell is the worst part.”

“Aunt Kate.”

“The screams weren’t that bad,” she chuckled. “They died down quickly. There’s so much screaming you can do when smoke fills your lungs.”

“Stop,” I sobbed. “Please.”

“I can just imagine them thinking it was a normal afternoon, and then the fire starts. You know, wooden houses are a very good catalyst to speed up a fire.”

“Stop.”

“(Y/N), come on.” Kate was grinning, a sinister smile that would have anyone shivering. “It’s only a matter of time before you do something similar. You and I have always been the most alike — centered, strong, morally grey. It’s in your blood, baby girl. At first, you’re gonna believe you’re on their side, but soon you’ll see that they’re all bad. Sooner or later they all spill innocent blood. It’s better to get them when they’re fresh, it’s so much easier”

“How can you talk like that? These are people’s lives you are talking about.”

“It’s different, sweetheart. They’re not normal, they’re a living abomination,” she rationalized. “This is all a game of power. We can’t allow them to have the upper hand. If we let that happen, they’ll overtake us, and there is a natural order to things.”

“Is that why you murdered a whole family of innocent beings? The family of a kid you tricked to fall for you, leaving him alone to suffer!” I yelled, the loudness hurting my throat. “You tricked Derek and used him to end his line. Why?”

“A pack is only as strong as its number. The bigger they are, the stronger they are. I was just doing my job,” she grinned. “Just like you did.”

“What are you talking about? I would never do something as heartless as you have.”

“Are you sure, honey? Why don’t you walk through that door and say that again.”

I stared at her like a deer stuck in headlights. My body shook as I slowly made my way to the dark front door of the house. Her eyes burned into every step I took, the sinus eerie grin still prominent on her face. With every step, her stare edging me on forward. There was a scene to unfold behind that door, and she was eager for me to see it.

I stretched my hand towards the doorknob but flinched when I felt the burning temperature it held. Kate said nothing as she encouraged me to open the door, daring me to face whatever I had to with just her gaze. I braced myself for the feeling and clasped my hand around the knob, turning it to reveal whatever it was that she wanted me to see.

The scene in front of me was heartbreaking. We now stood in front of Derek’s apartment complex, his loft lit aflame. The smell of ash was more prominent and the heat was almost unbearable. I tried to run into the building, the need to help any survivors growing in me. But Kate held me back, a painful grip holding onto my arm.

“Let me go!” I yelled through tears. “I need to save my friends.”

“Darling, don’t you get it?” She chuckled. “They’re all gone. All thanks to you. Look at your hands, honey.”

I did as she told, and my breath hitched in my throat when I did. My clothes were drenched in blood, and in my hands, I carried a bloody knife and a lighter. “No, I would never do this.”

“You already did.” She pointed forward, fixing my sight on the bodies that laid on the floor of the lot. “And some of them were innocent, too. But in war, there are always casualties. I mean, your cousin sided with them, and look how she ended up.”

I walked around the bodies, trying to find a sign of life in any of them as a flood of tears streamed out of my ducts.

Scott.

Stiles.

Lydia.

Isaac.

Allison.

Even Boyd and Erica were there.

But I didn’t see one important person. “Where’s Derek?” My voice croaked, barely the volume of a whisper.

“Who do you think is inside the building? It’s a fitting end for him. Dying in the way he shucked have years ago,” she laughed maniacally. “At least he’ll relate to his family when he gets to the other side.

“NO!” Once again I tried to run into the building, needing to risk my ice to save his. But she stopped name in my tracks once more, her grip tightening. “Let me go, please. Just let me go, I have to save him.”

“Honey, he’s already gone,” she scoffed. “Don’t you get it, sweetheart? There are only two ways this will end — it’s either you or them. And the sooner you accept it, the easier it will be; you are just like me.”

Tag List: @hellowinterlane​ @lokisgoddesofpower​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @malar-region @sunshine-flower

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending. 

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands. 

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore. 

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems. 

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house? 

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements. 

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like. 

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly. 

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment. 

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins. 

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher. 

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?” 

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before? 

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?” 

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow. 

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always. 

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow.  "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry? 

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing. 

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous. 

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard. 

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself. 

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room. 

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway. 

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows. 

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation. 

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

[aquato-family-circus]

aight it's compton's cookoff time? Okay I got something to say

I'm confused about what it represents. Like, you can easily go deeper on most of the worlds-- IE, Bob has a "no man is an island" issue, leading to the thought that he's refusing to reach out for help, so it's clearly self-isolation. As well, keeping his emotions/memories bottled up, and the metaphor of the moth as alcoholism and his moth-er was the one to introduce that into his life, so it's a little bit punny--

And then... Why is it that Compton's judges are Ford, Hollis, and Otto? Ford's not at the Motherlobe as far as Compton knows. If it's people he knows well, then why not Bob instead of Hollis? Why isn't there more of Cassie-- We can tell she meant a lot to him, so why not have her VA voice the beehive? Voice actors can be used for connections sometimes-- things like how Tia's VA also does Bob's version of Lili, or how the senses are voiced by the psychic 6. Or, one that I'd like to note-- The other 3 racers in Hollis's mind are voiced by the same people as Lizzie, Gisu, and Morris. Could extrapolate something from that, if you wanted to really push it.

I love how it's done, really. (Though the boss fight gets on my nerves sometimes too.) But at the same time, I just wish it was more... you know. More story to it. 'cause most of the others tell us more about folks from what they find important, or who.

I've got another ramble about VAs to go off on, but it's actually a full story idea, if you want that one.

First of all before anything: Bob's Lili being voiced by the person who voiced Tia is a super interesting connection, good catch

As for Compton's representations of people in his mind, I think in order Truman and Hollis are there because they're his bosses, Otto is there because he's the last P7 member that's still around, and Ford...

well, Ford was the de facto leader of the P7 and was the guy who bailed Compton out of jail and brought him into the fold. There's an implication when you think in terms of Vaults and backstory that Ford might've been one of the first people to recognize Compton's destructive behavior as something that could be understood and tempered - which must have meant a lot to Compton.

But Ford is also very mean. Not as in he was mean to Compton specifically, but Ford's got a temper and mean comebacks. The Sass and Snark that are friendly and jovial between say Ford and Otto would come off a lot more genuinely aggressive for a guy like Compton, even if Ford didn't mean to worry him. I think they were all close but that aggression left it's mark on Compton's impression of the people around him even long after Ford's mind was shattered.

Goat Ford's always the one who declares the meal was good. The third/last dish is Ford's Favorite Meal. To which Ford follows by saying "To mess this up would be an insult to the very heart of the Psychonauts"

IMO Ford is the manifestation of how Compton's fear about doing well and being judged manifests. It's not true to their friendship, but when is this kind of anxiety induced construction of people ever true? Ford's the last boss standing that Compton needs to take the puppet off his hand in order to start leaving his isolation chamber and go look for Cassie. I could even read that moment as Compton remembering that no, Ford wasn't that judgemental larger than life figure in his head.

As for Cassie not being there - that is kind of the point, I think. If her presence were more firmly felt, like if she voiced the beehive, I think that'd depreciate the value of the thing Compton needed to get out of the experience: remember that he can do things on his own, or at least that he's a lot better at doing things than he thinks.

Maybe he still needs a little help, of course, but the help Raz offers is being his ingredients gatherer by the end, not his co-chef: Compton does all the cooking. Compton reunites with Cassie not as someone who needs her or else he'll fall apart again, but as an equal who's ready to reconnect again and they can mutually help each other :)

[duuhrayliegh]

Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Four

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2960

Warnings: Itsy bitsy amount of angst, bad language words, mentions of phone sex and masturbation

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

“James?”

You held your breath after you uttered the name into the phone’s speaker. Your heart galloped at the thought of actually speaking to him. You’d be lying if you had said you hadn’t imagined how his voice sounded. You pictured something deep and raspy but drawled and sweet.

In the last five days, you’d imagined many things about James. Not just the sound of his voice, but his laugh, too. Rich and soothing. And of his scent- distinctly his own or a fresh, citrusy cologne of bergamot and tangerines. You imagined his rough, calloused hands sliding over your skin in slow motion.

And how he kissed. You daydreamed about that, too. Often. You couldn’t count how many times you’d stared at his sorry excuse for a selfie. You found yourself drawn to it daily. It was only part of his face, but what you could see was ruggedly handsome. His lips looked soft and delectable. You pictured yourself nibbling on his bottom lip, deepening its color to blush pink.

A sharp sigh escaped through your nose as you waited for his reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard you the first time? “James?” you asked again. “Hello?”

No response.

You pulled the phone away from your ear to make sure you were still connected. The call-time counter ticked ominously second by second on the screen. You tucked the device back under your hair to find the call was still active.

Did he get cold feet and change his mind last minute? He hadn’t hung up yet, so you weren’t exactly sure why he was waiting. Maybe he was tongue-tied? Or hadn’t expected you to pick up?

“Did you butt-dial me, James?” you laughed, trying to dispel some of your anxiety.

You heard a muffled “ shit” and two beeps. You glanced at the phone’s screen again, and call ended flashed in bold white.

Ignoring the hang-up, you immediately re-dialed James. The line rang and rang. And rang.

You weren’t confident you were going to speak with James, the longer the rings continued. He wasn’t ready to talk to you yet, and that was okay. It had only been five days.

Five days wasn’t long enough to build a bond over stupid Would You Rather? questions or form a simmering crush on a stranger that made your stomach flip whenever he sent you a funny cat meme. Nope. Five days was much too short of time for anything.

A generic voicemail greeting clicked over and rudely beeped at you. You took a deep breath and quickly thought of a reason to be calling someone who didn’t want to talk. “Hey, James. Just calling you back. It’s (Y/N), by the way. I’m not sure if you meant to call the first time or if sneaky ninjas have accosted you and somehow did a crazy pocket dial. Y’know, because of the whole military-trained assassin athlete mchottie thing. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And no pressure! If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, I completely understand. I’m sweating bullets just talking to your voicemail box.” You chuckled nervously. You were starting to babble.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I hope you’re well. And don’t leave me hangin’. I really wanna know if you’d rather sneeze every hour or burp when you saw a pretty girl.” You laughed again. “Goodbye, James.”

You mashed the end call button and face-planted into one of the throw pillows on your couch. You groaned loudly into the fabric, chastising yourself in your head. If he didn’t want to talk before, he most definitely wouldn’t want to now. You shook your head in disbelief. Sneaky ninjas, seriously? What. The. Fuck?

Hours later, while in the middle of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon (dammit Robyn!) and a self-induced diabetic coma of ice cream and chips, your phone vibrated. You swat at it on the coffee table with a foot, only to realize you lack the limberness or the dexterity in your toes to retrieve the phone. As a result, it tumbled to the ground as you groaned in displeasure. Cursing your luck, you bent forward to pick it up. Awakening the phone’s black screen, a text popped into view.

James Sorry

Your heart lurched for a moment. With every second that had passed since you’d left your voicemail for James, the least likely you’d felt he’d call back or even respond. Hence the pity party with Ben & Jerry and Cool Ranch Doritos.

James My so-called “friends” grabbed my phone from me and led to accidentally calling you.

Ahh, the old “invade-your-friend’s-privacy” maneuver, you thought, shaking your head.

James I didn’t want to hang up on you, but I’m not quite ready to talk yet. I like what we have.

Your heart flopped. You liked what you had, too, but a small part of you- a dumb part- wanted just a little more.

Shaking off the feeling of longing churning your insides, you thumbed over the screen to reply.

You No worries, James. We can go at whatever speed you like.

It was weird to have the guy, for once, want to take things slow. Usually, it was always you pumping the brakes in the relationship. Was this even a relationship, though? Were all the texting and personal questions leading somewhere? Or were you bound to end up friends with an interesting story to tell your other friends?

Not allowing your negative thoughts to curtail the joy of finally texting James again, you quickly punched out:

You I’m just glad you’re okay and not being held for ransom somewhere.

James It would take a whole horde of ninjas to take me down.

You giggled at the confidence contained in this one text, but talking to a girl on the phone threw him for a loop. We are definitely back in junior high, you thought.

You You sound awfully confident for a man who wouldn’t talk to a friend on the phone.

James You don’t want to talk to me.

You pinched your eyebrows together in frustration to form a crease between them. Was he serious?

You Sure, I do. I have a bet going with myself on how your voice sounds. Is it deep and masculine or high-pitched like you sucked in helium?

James Which are you betting on?

You pulled your bottom lip in by your teeth, biting softly. You smirked as you thought of the two options. The former would be nice, but the latter would be pretty damn funny.

You I mean, deep and masculine is very desirable. Listening to the low timbre of a man’s voice is very relaxing for me. But, considering the ridiculous “selfie” you sent me, I’m placing my money on high-pitched.

James What was wrong with my selfie?!

Somehow, you knew that would get him worked up.

You Well, for starters: I can only see, like, part of your face! Did a blind person teach you how to take them??

You And secondly, there clearly wasn’t enough “Blue Steel.” With cheekbones and pouty lips like yours and a chiseled jaw, I’d be blue-steeling the shit out of all my selfies!

A wave of remorse washed over you once you hit send. Had you really compared him to Zoolander? Not only had you objectified him by mentioning how aesthetically pleasing he was (let’s face it- he’s really, really, really ridiculously good looking), but you may have criticized him for his terrible selfie abilities. At that moment, as you waited for the inevitable “fuck off” text to come through, you wished for a giant sinkhole to appear under your apartment and swallow you whole. What were you thinking?

James First off, I’m a selfie amateur. My past line of work limited my contact and/or exposure to the outside world. I didn’t learn what a selfie even was until recently. Remember, I’m also a man of mystery. I’m trying to keep up appearances and can’t reveal too much.

James What is “Blue Steel”? I’m not very pop-culture savvy unless it happened before 1944.

James Did you just call me pretty??

Your cheeks flushed with the heat of a thousand suns. He called you out as you expected him to do.

You Uh...

You Are we gonna talk about the fact you said you didn’t know about pop culture after 1944?? You are a grandpa!

James Nice try with the subject change! Admit it- you think I’m pretty.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be the thing he focused on out of the whole conversation.

You I have no idea what you’re talking about.

If all else fails--deny, deny, deny.

James Right. Sure about that, doll?

Your pulse spiked.

You never did like pet names before you met James, but doll had a goo-ing effect on you for some reason. Everything seemed to turn to mush whenever he mentioned the word.

You Absolutely. I have no reason to believe that if you weren’t a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie, you’d be a male model. None what-so-ever.

James Uh-huh. I’m going to pretend that you aren’t lying through your teeth and getting back to our scintillating game of Would You Rather?

James I’d burp every time I saw a pretty dame, by the way. I wouldn’t want to take my chances with sneezing in my sleep. Would you rather eat only fruits or vegetables for one year?

Several nights after the voicemail incident, you were sitting in Penelope with Robyn after work. She wanted to meet up to decide which centerpieces worked best for the reception. Scattered across the table were three samples she and Kevin had narrowed it down to. With your thumb, while playing with a corner of the hand-drawn example closest to you, a sigh escaped your nose.

Your sister’s talent mesmerized you. Each storyboard showed the intricate detail of the flowers and candles themselves and what the tables would look like next to each other with every centerpiece. You were in awe.

“These are so good, Robbie! They must have taken forever to put together,” you said, admiring a different sample on the table.

“Nah,” she replied, brushing the compliment aside. “Just an afternoon’s time last week.”

“Well, shit. I hope they’re paying you the big bucks at work.”

She quirked an eyebrow devilishly as she reached for her drink. “You know it,” she jested before taking a sip.

You laughed at her cheekiness. Robyn had always been a go-getter. One of the many attributes you loved about her. Never took no for an answer.

“Soooo,” she drawled as she set her glass down. “How have you been?”

You looked up swiftly, eyeing her suspiciously before returning your gaze to the storyboard in your hands. “I’m still alive if that’s what you’re asking.” You set the drawing down to take a drink from your glass. “Haven’t been murdered yet, but the night is still young.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at your petulance. “You know I worry about you. Are you still texting James?”

You smiled sweetly. “Each day that goes by, you act more and more like Mom. You know that?”

Robyn scoffed. “I do not!”

She could deny it all she wanted, but Robyn was turning into the spitting image of your mother. You laughed again. “You do too. Even down to the eye roll.”

She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for you to answer her question.

Two could play this game.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your napkin unhurriedly. “If you must know, yes, James and I are still texting.”

“Has he sent any dick pics or asked for nudes?” Robyn asked earnestly.

“Yup. We engage in wildly pornographic phone sex every night.”

Robyn glanced around the restaurant with eyes wide as saucers, making sure none of the other patrons heard you. “(Y/N), I’m serious! Has he propositioned you?”

You huffed a small laugh. “Nope,” you admitted. “In fact, he’s the one that wants to take things slow. He accidentally called me the other day and hung up from jitters.” Robyn didn’t need to know the full truth.

“The jitters?” Robyn queried.

“Yeah. I even called him back, but he let it go to voicemail.”

“Then, he must be weird or ugly.”

You grimaced at her assumption. “Ew, Robbie. Don’t be gross,” you chastised. “He’s the opposite of ugly. I might even go as far as to call him handsome.”

“How? You don’t know what he looks like,” Robyn questioned.

You took a quick sip of your drink, holding up a finger. “Au, contraire mon frère. He sent me a selfie in the very beginning.”

Robyn looked at you, perplexed. “You know you just called me your brother, right?”

You waved a hand at her to dismiss her accusation. “Ma soeur just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” You pulled your phone out to offer proof.

“You can barely see his face!” she exclaimed. “What if he’s horribly disfigured on the other side? Or missing an arm?”

You shrugged. “Then, he’s missing an arm.” You got a distant look in your eyes as you recalled the last ten days of texting with James. “He’s different, Robbie. He’s smart and funny and caring. Polite. It feels like he has an old soul. He calls me doll for chrissakes!”

“Are you sure he isn’t some crusty, old man?” Robyn gagged at the thought.

“No, I don’t,” you chuckled in response. The faraway look returned after a moment. “To me, he’s just James.”

Realization dawned on Robyn’s face, lighting her up like a light bulb. “Oh, my god. You like him.”

“Well, yeah,” you acknowledged, “he’s my friend.”

“No. You like him like him.”

Your face reddened quickly with the awareness of your feelings. They weren’t real, were they? Shaking your head, you replied, ”Nothing will happen, Robbie. It’s just a crush.”

Skeptically, she agreed, “Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“I believe that as much as I welcome a cold sore on my wedding day.” She scrunched her nose at the thought of a gross, red blemish on her face for her big day.

“Fine,” you acquiesced. “If I fall head over heels, madly in love with James by your wedding day, I’ll owe you a hundred bucks.”

Robyn raised a sculpted brow in interest. “I’m listening.”

“One hundred dollars. End of negotiation,” you stated. “I don’t have a spare hundred bucks, so it will be a motivator not to fall for James. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

She smiled smugly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Uh-huh.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you said, throwing a piece of lettuce at her face. “You definitely sound like Mom.”

Robyn huffed in annoyance, back-handing your shoulder softly. “Shuddup! I do not!”

You chortled heartily at the mini tantrum she was throwing about becoming Mom. You’d say anything at this point to get her to forget about you and James.

In all honesty, there was no you and James. Not really. You were friends, but could you move past that?

He was hiding something.

Something big.

And it wasn’t part of the whole “man of mystery” persona, either. James was holding back.

He had a hard time giving up anything personal to you that went beyond his likes and dislikes, which led you to believe he had found it difficult to trust.

It angered you deeply without really knowing why. Something in his past had sparked the inability. You only wish you knew what.

Deep down, you could really see yourself falling for James, and that scared you to death.

Breaking you from your reverie, Robyn piped up, “You know, James is probably jerking off to your voicemail.”

“Oh, absolutely!” you retorted, both of you dissolving into a giggling fit.

After leaving Robyn with a clear choice for centerpieces, you made your way back home. After a fifty-minute subway ride, you popped into the corner bodega for some essentials for the coming week.

Sauntering up the stairs to your third-floor walk-up, you steadied your armful of groceries with each step. It had been a long week, and now with the revelation of how you felt about James clouding your mind, a glass of wine, ice cream, and a bubble bath sounded good right about now.

You could barely see over the bags and juggled them precariously. As you stepped onto your floor, you recognized the voice of your next-door neighbor down the hall. He was talking with someone, but you couldn’t tell with whom or what about.

Blindly, you called out, “Hey, Peter? Can you be a lifesaver and help a neighbor out?” You heard the scuffle of footsteps over tile rush toward you.

Sighing in relief, you relinquished two bags to the arms reaching out. “Thanks, Pete! You’re a pe-”

You stopped mid-sentence when your view was finally cleared. Your sixteen-year-old neighbor wasn’t standing before you but a tall man with chestnut hair tied in a knot. Your lips parted slightly as your eyes widened to take in the figure’s full breadth holding your groceries.

Your eyes flicked to Peter as everything came back to focus. He was adjusting your other two bags in his arms.

“Miss (Y/L/N), this is Mr. Barnes from my Stark internship. He’s a friend. He was helping me with some history homework,” Peter explained, gesturing to the hulking man standing outside your apartment door.

“Peter,” you admonished, “how many times-” Last names weren’t meant to be spoken by friends slash neighbors.

Peter winced. “Right! Sorry, (Y/N)!” he apologized. “This is Bucky.”

Recognition crossed your face at the name. Smiling, you stuck out your hand in front of you. “Bucky Barnes, it’s nice to meet you.”

Bucky shifted one of your bags in his arms to reach out his hand. He smiled softly, “ Li-likewise.”  

Chapter Three | Chapter Five

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[mxrcayong]

part of @nct-writers​’s cafe resonance collab!

genre: fluff, a more UK-based pov of university

summary: jisung, a college student now looking for a job, has decided to apply for a job at the local café. he thought being friends with the manager and its employees has it perks; from unlimited free coffee to whatever pastries haven’t been eaten by the end of the day. needless to say; the perks must end somewhere. 

word count: 2317 words

note: i didn’t make the divider!!

College students practically live by coffee shops. If university was a religion, the on-campus coffee shop would be the bible. Daily, college students’ breath in the coffee beans like oxygen, feel the permanent imprint of coffee mug or a ‘to go’ cup on their lips. They’re surrounded by the smells of different fruity pastries and savory snacks, and the sounds of students either chatting or typing away on their computers. 

It’s no wonder that the university coffee shop was practically a hub of activity. When you sit down to work at Café Resonance, it’s feels like you’re a part of a bigger and collective community, stressing for assessments or just taking a break from their hectic university schedules. It’s especially hectic when you’re a full-time student and work part time.   

“Do I really need to get a job?” Jisung sighed, scratching his head as he leant against the barista’s counter. His six closest friends were working behind the counter: using the coffee machines and decorating the pastries. “Can’t I just use your employee discount on everything?” 

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “You know I want to, my little mouse.” He teased as he placed another order on his tray, “But I can only put the café employee discount on so many things.” He practically sung as he left, heading to a table to bring another set of students their own cups of their own ambrosia.     

From the cash register, Haechan had just finished taking the orders of the last bunch of the line and immediately replaced Jaemin’s place next to Jisung. “You can always just become a sugar baby.” He suggested, coming over to the display case to grab one of the pastries to heat up per the customer’s order. “Or a pole dancer… aren’t you a good dancer?” 

Jisung immediately protested. “Firstly, no. Secondly, is it even legal? I literally only became an adult this year.” 

“Actually…” Haechan started to counter, only to be interrupted by Mark approaching with a raised hand and a dirty mop. 

“Stop telling everyone to become a sugar baby.” Mark chided as he ducked to get back behind the counter, drudging the cleaning supplies with him. “You do realize that if someone does become a sugar baby, they aren’t entitled to paying for your shit either.” In response, Haechan grumbled under his breath as he gave the bewildered customer overhearing the odd conversation their fruity treat. 

Jisung has visited his closest friends enough to know that working at the café is like a beautifully choreographed dance. It moves like clockwork; with the six doing their roles diligently and without question. So, it’s not unusual for his friends to come and go during the conversation – all taking part whilst separating themselves at the same time. 

“Why don’t you just ask Chenle if you could work here?” Renjun suggested, coming out from the back room where he started baking some more pastries – obvious through his powdered apron. “We all work here already, and we can go through the ropes with you.” 

Jeno immediately stepped in and basically rejected the offer. “Do you remember the last time we hosted an event and Jisung wanted to help?” He prompted, before chuckling. “He tried to wash the food with dish soap…and he broke the broom when cleaning!” 

Almost as if the thought of teasing Jisung summons him, Chenle came out of seemingly nowhere. “Didn’t he leave the broken broom on the floor and just started playing video games?” Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun nodded – remembering the mess the 00-line apartment was that night.  

“Not the best party we hosted.” Jaemin commented, going around the counter to make his own drink now that the list of waiting customers is gone. “But, still, Jisung learns fast. I think he could work here.” 

Chenle let out an introspective hum, before leaning over to whisper to Haechan. With a questionable look on their faces, Chenle decided to call Jisung into the back room and in his makeshift ‘managers office’ (a perk of being family with the owner of the university café). “I’ll consider your application, but I can’t do any nepotism.” He started, “so, you must go through the whole application process.” He paused. “You must come up with your own recipe.” 

With a rule to not discuss recipes with his ‘potential future co-workers’ – which Chenle weirdly specified as everyone but Haechan, Jisung had to get straight to work. In all honesty, he had no baking experience nor ever made a drink without a guiding recipe.

While his six closest friends were out of the equation, he had another friend he could reach out to; Y/N. 

You were in his freshmen orientation group earlier this year. Not going to lie, you initially thought of each other as familiar faces who you’d occasionally wave at or nod in acknowledgement when you walk past each other. However, you later found yourself eating in the same hall cafeteria…and then the same hall pantry…and then, it clicked. You two lived only four doors away from each other in your university hall. 

Needless to say, you two ran midnight McDonald trips basically on a weekly basis. You became integral to Jisung’s daily routine; from waking each other up for breakfast to storming into each other rooms, armed with complaints and rants about the shitty professor who made you read 300 pages for one night. Even on your busiest days, you two would always pick each other up for the hall provided breakfasts and dinners. 

So here you were - Jisung was slouching down on your desk chair while you were resting on the bed, your back against the wall and a pillow in your lap as you tried to help Jisung solve his current problem. “Well…did Chenle give you a prompt or anything?” 

Jisung shook his head, groaning back. “It’s not like we have a kitchen to try and bake either! We only have fridges and a microwave and a….” He tried to recall what was on the floor pantry. 

“Just a fridge and a microwave.” You added. “That means pastries are off the table…how about a drink?” 

Jisung groaned again. “I have a hard time making pre-made coffee!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle; you remembered that day. It was a scary time for you; your credit card company sent you a text about a fraudulent use of your student account. Not only did you end up stressing to the point of crying, but you also learned it was a false alarm. Luckily, while still reeling from the anxiety inducing news, you ran into Jisung as he was leaving his room. He then took you to the pantry to try and cheer you up with coffee…however, a fire alarm went off and practically deafened the whole university housing cohort for hours. 

And poor Jisung…Jisung was just an awkward little mouse, trying to look innocent as he saw his exhausted neighbors clamber out into the park due to his attempt of making pre-made coffee. 

“Well…you have me. This isn’t hopeless.” Climbing off the bed, you pretended to dust yourself off. “So, let’s go to the pantry? Another one of our…”

Jisung quickly furrowed his brows, interjecting while you still spoke “I don’t think this can be considered snacking…”

“Pantry-time dates.” You stuttered, obviously unsure of the title. Usually, you call them ‘cup noodle dates’ or ‘popcorn dates’; a joke that ran through your small group of friends as well as the resident advisors at the university hall. 

No one likes being in the pantry. Especially the second floor. For one, things always get stolen; from cutlery to a six pack of coke. Secondly, the few times people use the microwave to heat up their meals, they tend to leave the leftovers to rot on the windowsill. But you and Jisung sit there together; maybe because something about it feels open and comfortable, despite the terrible smell. Plus…the two of you placed bets on who could be the thief when people awkwardly clamber on by, and if on one of these ‘dates’ you catch the thief obviously taking something that isn’t theirs? Even better. 

But today… you two will have to be the forsaken thieves. 

“So someone put chocolate powder in the fridge…” You commented incredulously, especially as this fridge is known for freezing things into ice in minutes. “There’s some…expired milk.” Jisung watched as you searched through the fridge for any hidden treasures; feeling more and more unsure of himself as you listed more and more ingredients. “Oh, okay, some non-expired milk. That will be useful.” 

“We can make a latte?” Jisung offered, now on his phone searching up popular café drinks. 

“Yes!” You enthused, finally feeling like this trip to the pantry isn’t useless after all. “But…we should probably write an apology note to the people we’re stealing from.” 

It’s been almost five hours in the pantry. Countless of people came in (however, this time you tried not to place bets as you knew who the real thieves were tonight) and would just stare at the two of you, arguing over a kettle of milk. Even your neighbor Victor came in; having sat and watched you two for a good while (which made Jisung extra cautious; he’s had a theory about him being the forsaken pantry thief for a while). Victor, however, said you two should have a cooking show, to which you scoffed while Jisung basked in the compliment. This very same compliment crossed Victor off of Jisung’s “potential criminals” list. 

Eventually, you had a drink in front of you. A chocolate latte that Jisung insisted on putting salt in, as “Modern Family said it was a good idea”. Admittedly, the first ten versions of this drink were absolute failures; making you go to the bathroom numerous times to vomit out the thick and almost flour-like texture.  

So, for your final check, the two of you grabbed the non-eaten pastries Jisung brought home from the café. Hopefully, this will act as a palette cleanser; especially since tasting all of the failed drinks probably have messed with your taste buds and lowered all sorts of expectations. 

After taking bites into the Suh-ndwitch and Henpretzel, you two finally took sips of the drink you attempted to make since 10pm – with Jisung making far too many references to the Powerpuff Girls opening theme. 

Alas – the taste that flooded their senses wasn’t at all bad, no. Nor was it ‘a little bit of sugar and everything ice’, but it was something you’d expect from Starbucks. You two immediately squealed out of excitement, ignoring the fact that you probably woke the neighboring rooms up at three in the morning. Jisung immediately went over to hug your waist, spinning you around as fast as he could; before something unexpected happens. 

You felt his lips on yours; tasting like chocolate and leftover ingredients that were remnants from his palette cleanser of a sandwich. The feeling was foreign; you never expected to kiss Jisung. He was your best friend, your neighbour; but his lips were soft…and something about this felt right. 

But then the door slammed opened. A zombie-like RA came in and you two immediately jumped to different sides of the room. “I know you two always do your pantry dates, but…” The RA started, obviously sluggish from being woken up at 3am. “We got noise complaints.” 

Jisung awkwardly coughed, apologized, and ran away; leaving you confused in the corner of the pantry. 

Café Resonance were never busy Friday evenings. People were most likely out pubbing or preparing for their weekends of antics. So when Jisung stormed in with a recipe in hand, he wasn’t afraid to celebrate as loudly as if he had just won the Olympic World Cup. “I got the recipe! Can I please have the job?” He practically pleaded, dropping the piece of paper with messy handwriting and the sample drink you two whipped up again the night prior. On top of the page with chocolate colored stains were the words; “Hamji Choco Latte” with (served hot or cold)  at the bottom.

“A recipe?” Everyone but Haechan and Chenle looked confused; with the latter two smirking in the corner of the room. But as soon as Haechan cracked and let out a loud laugh, Mark turned around and immediately recognized the culprits of this misunderstanding. 

“Bruh,” Chenle let out throughout his charming ‘dolphin laugh’, “You had the job – I was just messing with you.” 

Haechan pouted, approaching Jisung to ruffle his hair. “My sweet, small, dumb idiot…how much I love you.” He placed a sloppy kiss at the corner of his head, making Jisung immediately try to scrub it off. 

Jisung scowled, upset he let himself get fooled by his best friends. “At least I got a girlfriend from it…” He mumbled, more to himself, but forgetful of how Jeno’s ears can pick up on anything. It was from my ASMR stint, Jeno would say. 

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, as if Jisung getting a girlfriend would happen the day pigs would fly. 

“I sent you to make a café recipe, not a love potion!” Chenle cackled even more; while his fellow friends made him explain what happened. 

By the time the store closed, Jaemin gave Jisung the ‘talk’ and warned that although they spent nights in each other’s rooms before, Jisung and you must be ‘safe’ and ‘protected’. 

People always say the first people you become friends with at university don’t always stay friends for life. People tend to clash, find their hobbies, and go different ways. But Jisung was lucky. He met you; his best friend and now his other half. And despite the annoying prank Chenle made that wasted hours of your time, Chenle was right; the Hamji Choco Latte was basically a love potion as it brought the hidden infatuation you had for each other to light.  

Now, every time he picks you up from your lecture hall, he brings one extra-large chocolatey drink to share. 

“Email sent out to residents of NCU Hall: 

Dear residents of the second floor, 

The person who has been stealing cultlery and food has been identified. Victor Cho will be coming by to return any items that may have belonged to you.”

Jisung screamed at the top of his lungs when he got this email. “I TOLD YOU SO!” 

[pappydaddy]

Mashed Potatoes and Joel Hoekstra (b.h.)

��A/N: This is for the lovely anon who wanted a Billy x Byers!Reader. I was so excited to write this one, I loved this request (I am loving ALL requests, but I’ve been loving these Billy ones lately!). Definitely very fun to write this one so thank you so much for requesting doll! Hope you love it lovely anon💛!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Byers!Reader

Show/Movie: Stranger Things

Requested

Warnings: Mean people, bullying, prejudice, the shits of the teenage years, but fluff in the end!

Remember guys! Your family name does not define you or someone else! It’s who they are that defines them, it’s who you are that defines you. It’s how you act, how you treat people, etc. Just like you don’t judge a book by it’s cover, you don’t judge a person by their name. If anyone tries to put you in a box simply because of a prejudice with your name, ignore them. I know it’s hard, I know - trust me, but they really don’t deserve your time. And if you feel trapped in a box because of your name, just know that you can break free from that box. My DMs are ALWAYS open if you lovelies need to talk💛!

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation - not my gif - 

  “Billy,” Y/N’s soft voice broke the tranquil silence that had settled over the room. Her finger that had been tracing random shapes on his chest stopped moving, her eyes flicking around the darkroom as she waited for him to respond in some way. She knew he wasn’t asleep by the lack of snores lowly rumbling in his chest (which she also laid her head upon) and his breathing pattern. He hummed, the sound reverberating in his chest, his hand still stroking up and down along the dip in her back where her spine was. “We’ve been dating for a few months now-” 

  “Six months.” He interjected, pressing a warm kiss to the top of her head. 

  “Right, yeah, we’ve been dating for six months,” She nodded, her already tangled hair tangling a bit more. Her voice was nervous, not knowing how he would react to her bringing this up. “And I was just thinking that maybe it would be time for you to meet my family,” She asked, her voice pitching up towards the end. “Maybe. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it’s just everyone else I’ve dated has met them by now, but then again, everyone else I’ve ever dated left a few weeks after meeting them so-”

  “You’re rambling again, Bug.” Billy cut her off gently, knowing that she rambled and rants when she’s nervous and scared. Her cheeks heated up, burning as she settled back down to cuddle into Billy’s bare chest. 

  “Sorry.” She whispered. 

  Billy pressed another kiss to her hair, knowing that her ex’s all harped on her about her nervous rambles, making her snap her mouth shut and sink into herself. “Nothing to be sorry for, Bug, you’re nervous.” He reassured her. 

  She took a deep breath, calming herself as Billy gave her the silent support she needed. “Back on track,” She nodded her tone calm once again. “I still think you should meet my family because they are really important to me and you’re really important to me and I just really would like it if you guys got along,” She expressed nervously. The room was silent as she waited impatiently for his response, her breath was hitched, her mind automatically assuming that he was going to leave her right here, right now because he didn’t want to meet her family or worse, not feel the same about her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to; if you’re not there in the relationship, that’s fine, we can take a few steps back if you’d like-” She started to shrink away from him, her mind panicking as it continued to imagine him leaving her like the rest - like her father. 

  “No-” Billy interjected softly, gently pulling her back to be flush against him. “I’ll meet your family only if you get some sleep, it’s late and you’re exhausted. He bargained, suddenly feeling nervous and wanting her to go to sleep for her sake and his. 

  “Okay, deal.” She yawned, closing her eyes, snuggling her cheek farther into his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. Billy squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to control his heartbeat so he didn’t alert her to his sudden nervousness. 

____  

  The next day was relaxed other than Billy’s increasing nervousness. He loved Y/N, he was at that place in the relationship where the only logical step would be to meet each other’s family, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of doom. For one, meeting her family meant she would have to meet his family and he wanted to keep her as far away from Neil as possible. Secondly, the Byers family had a certain reputation around Hawkins High and Middle and Billy had heard all about it from his friends. Of course, he was stand-off-ish of Y/N before they started dating because of this reputation, but everything turned out fine with her so why wouldn’t her family be the same? 

  “What’s got you so quiet, Hargrove?” Tommy asked aggressively as they mulled around the locker room, changing after gym class. Billy jolted out of his thoughts as he just stood, staring into his locker. Looking back at Tommy, he blinked at him for a second before comprehending what his question was. 

  “Uh, nothing,” Billy shook his head, grabbing his shirt from his locker, slipping it on. “It’s just that Y/N invited me over to meet her family.” He had no idea why he was confessing this to Tommy and his other friends of all people, knowing how they feel about Y/N and the rest of her family. The words had tumbled out before he could even think about stopping them. 

  “Woah,” Tommy exclaimed, laughing as he pretended to back away from Billy as if he were carrying some sort of contagious disease. “Boys! Say good-bye to the Billy we all know because soon, he’s gonna be infected by the Weird-os.” His statement earned a chorus of laughs from the boys huddled around. 

  “Buzz off Tommy, they can’t be that bad. I mean, Y/N is great!” Billy said mostly to himself, closing his locker. 

  “Sure, she’s the most normal one,” Tommy shrugged. “But the rest of them man,” He shook his head as if telling some old wise tale. “They are complete basket cases. Completely messed in the head. Look at Jonathan for an example,” Tommy paused, walking over to Billy and slinging his arm over his shoulder. “Nobody talks to him, he sits in the back of the classes or in that stupid dark room, playing with his stupid little camera.” 

  “Y/N says that he’s quiet and works most of the time so he doesn’t have much time to hang out and the time he does have, he chooses to practice photography.” Billy pointed out, pushing Tommy’s arm off him. Tommy remained unfazed, leaning against the lockers as he continued.

  “Alright, if not Jonathan, then the younger one,” He paused, using his hands to set the scene. “He died, okay? Died and came back to life like in one of his freaky little movies he and his dork friends watch,” Billy glared at him, knowing full well that Max was one of his friends. “Much like his brother, he just sits there and colours and colours and colours. He’s in middle school and still colours like a pre-schooler.” 

  “He’s pretty talented, I’ve seen some of his pictures in the car when Y/N has it.” 

  “Now, let’s talk about the mother. She works at a general store, she dated that geek from Radio Shack, her husband left her, she had a meltdown in the middle of the street, she bought all the fucking lights in Hawkins because she thought her dead son was talking to her through them,” He paused. Billy opened his mouth to defend Joyce, but Tommy cut him off. “They are weird, Hargrove. They are completely nuts and you better prepare to be just as nuts because I am pretty sure it’s contagious.” 

  “Just look at Harrington and Wheeler,” Another guy piped up, making Billy look towards him. “They started to hang around with the Byers and look at them, they turned just as crazy. Constantly looking over their shoulders, Harrington only hangs around kids now, always having hushed conversations with them and Wheeler only talks to Jonathan now.” 

  “That’s not-” 

  ‘That’s not the same,” Tommy cut Billy off with a question. “It is exactly the same. Meeting the Byers is like the kiss of death. Kills your social life and makes you crazy-” 

  “Billy,” Y/N’s voice called into the locker room from the door she held slightly open. “Are you in here, we should really be getting to lunch, I’m starving!” 

  “Yeah, be out in a second!” He called to her, the door softly closing in response. He nervously looked at the door as Tommy clicked his tongue. 

  “It’s your choice, Hargrove, it’s your grave you’re digging.” Billy glared at him, shrugging on his jean jacket and leaving the locker room. His eyes met Y/N easily, seeing her talking to Steve excitedly. Though Billy still didn’t like Steve, he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity at that given time to deal with his fluffy-haired nemesis, too busy fretting about what to do about meeting Y/N’s family. 

  “There you are, I was worried that you accidentally slammed your head in the locker or something,” She joked, not realizing that Billy was actually considering it. He didn’t want to make her think that he wasn’t ready to take the next step in the relationship, but I also was scared now. As much as he wanted to admit that he didn’t trust Tommy H and all the other guys, he really did want to say that he let their warnings roll off his back, but he couldn’t. “Come on, I want to eat, see you, Steve!” She grabbed Billy’s hand, pulling him out of the gym and into the halls. 

  “What were you talking to Harrington about?” He asked, hoping that it was completely unrelated to her having him over for dinner. 

  “About you meeting my family,” She chirped happily. Billy wanted to deflate right there. Of course it had to be about that. It couldn’t have been about anything else. Anything to take his mind off something so anxiety inducing. “He thinks it’s a great idea! He said that you would love my family and I really hope he’s right.” 

  “I really hope so too-” He muttered under his breath. 

  “What was that?” She asked, her brows furrowing as she leaned in closer. 

  “Nothing, Bug.” He told her, hoping she would buy it. She pulled a face, shrugging before regaining her giddy mood. 

  “Must have just been hearing things,” She chalked it up. “Anyway, I was thinking that you should come round to my place at seven? My mom is off today so she’s been prepping for this since nine this morning!” 

  “Yeah, about that,” Billy spoke slowly, dreading what he was about to do. He really didn’t want to do it, but he needed to buy himself sometime so he could figure out his next move. Find a way to keep Y/N while not having to meet her family. “I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach, Bug. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to go tonight.” 

  “Oh no,” She gasped, her hand squeezing his affectionately as she stopped in the hallway. “You might have overdone it in gym today, especially when I accidentally kicked that soccer ball right into your stomach, sorry about that by the way.” 

  “No, it wasn’t that, but you do have one hell of a kick on you,” He shook his head, not wanting her to blame herself. “I just think I’m coming down with something and I really don’t want to infect your family.” He lied through his teeth. 

  She awed, her hand coming up to cup his cheek sweetly. ���That’s so sweet,” She cooed. Her hand slid from his face as disappointment flashed across her face, but it was gone as soon as it came, or at least she tried to fake it. Billy could see the disappointment she tried to bury, his heart pulling at the sight of it, knowing that he was the one who caused it. “It’s alright, I want you to worry about your health first. I’ll just go call my mom and tell her that there was a change of plans-” She paused, looking for a quarter as she tried to ignore the worry bubbling up once again. “Could I borrow a quarter? I think I spent mine calling her earlier to check up.” She asked, extending her flat palm, waiting for him to drop a quarter in it. 

  Billy tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He could tell she was thinking that he was trying to avoid meeting her family because he just didn’t want to. While there was some truth to that, he couldn’t let her feel like he was pulling away from her. “You know what,” He pushed her hand back down to her side. “I’m going to go to the nurse and see if she can help me. I’ll see you before next period and update you, Bug.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before running off down the hall. 

  “Okay-” She breathed out, shocked. She watched him run past Tommy and his gaggle of idiots, the group watching him run - laughing. 

  “Oh, the crazy is already starting to rub off on you, Hargrove!” Tommy yelled, but Billy either ignored it or didn’t hear it. Y/N eyed Tommy oddly before eyeing Billy’s retreating form. 

____

  The fact that Billy stood at the front door of the Byers’ house was a miracle in itself, considering how many times Billy considered swerving hard right into a tree in order to escape this night, but he pushed forward, knowing that Y/N was worth it. He tightened his grip on the bouquet of flowers, the thorns digging into his hand making him wince. Groaning, he switched holds, shaking his stinging hand out. He felt constricted in his clean cut clothes, his button-up buttoned more than usual, only the first two buttons being undone. The slacks itched his legs and made him feel like he was heading to a Sunday service. 

  Taking a deep breath, he raised his close fist, hitting his knuckles against the door twice in rapid succession. He could hear a scuffle from behind the door and Y/N’s distinctive voice pleading with her mother to let her answer it. The door was jerked open, revealing a breathless woman and a blushing Y/N standing in the back looking defeated. “You must be Y/N’s sister.” Billy used his normal line that worked wonders on mothers, but he was so off his game that he sounded a bit nervous, spitting the line out a few moments too late. The woman didn’t seem to mind, taking the compliment easily.  

  “Oh, stop it,” She flicked her hand, a wide smile nearly breaking her face as she laughed. “You must be Billy,” She continued to giggle, the laughter making her look youthful. If Billy hadn’t known that she had two teenagers and a pre-teen, then Billy would have thought she was much younger. “I’m Joyce, come on in, you must be cold,” She ushered him in hurriedly, her hand guiding him into the warm, cozy house as it rested on his upper back. “Standing out there in only a shirt in this fall weather.” She shook her head, closing the door behind him. 

  “Mom-” Y/N whined, embarrassed by her mother’s fussing. Joyce gave her a look, silencing the whine. 

  “You stop that and get this poor boy a drink,” Joyce insisted, leading Billy over to one of the couches. With a small groan in protest, Y/N ducked into the kitchen and out of Billy’s sight, sending him right on edge again. He sat on the couch, his clammy hands running over his slacks as his eyes watched Joyce. She was fairly gentle and normal looking for someone everyone called insane. “Will, go grab Jonathan from the shed, supper is going to be in a few minutes.” Joyce told the small looking boy who worked at setting the table for five, a mismatched chair added to the four that looked like they normally surround the table.

  “You have a lovely home Ms. Byers, thank you for having me.” He extended the pleasantry, seeing Y/N coming into the room with a glass of water. 

  “Please, call me Joyce,” She told him, waving him off once again. “And it’s no problem, Hunny. We’re glad to have you. You’re welcome anytime!” She reassured him, thinking that his nerves were from the donating task of meeting the family for the first time. 

  “Will do.” Billy nodded, gulping down his water. Y/N sat next to him on the couch, her hand naturally falling to his knee. Though his nerves lifted with each passing second he spends with them, he couldn’t seem to get Tommy’s warnings out of his head. 

  “You know, my mom was so excited for you to get here, she side-checked me out of the way to get the door,” Y/N told him, giggling. That seemed normal enough, they all seemed to have a good relationship with each other. It was more functional than his family and they were deemed normal. “And I definitely think you made her entire night with your comment.” 

  “Kids, dinner is ready,” Joyce called from the kitchen. Y/N patted Billy’s leg, standing up. Billy swallowed thickly, feeling like he was walking to his death as he neared the table filled with loads of dishes full of a beautiful home-cooked meal. “Billy, dear, you’re the guest so you can sit here,” Joyce patted the chair at the head of the table, before pointing to the chair next to it that sat between the wall and the table. “Y/N, you sit there.” She instructed her daughter. 

  “So, Billy,” Will spoke up, taking his place beside Y/N, looking directly at the blonde as he scooted his chair in. “Max tells me you like rock music. What’s your favourite band?” He posed the question, grabbing the pitcher of water and filling his glass up. 

  “Uh- I’ve been listening to a lot of Whitesnake lately, but I would say the Scorpions are my favourite band I guess.” Billy answered him, his hands nervously hovering over his plate, not sure what he should be doing. 

  “That’s cool, I like The Clash the most personally, but I like watching the Whitesnake videos, their hair is really cool-” Will nodded, accepting Billy’s answer. 

  “And where have you been watching Whitesnake videos, young man?“ Joyce perked in eyebrow at the youngest, making him shrink back slightly, but Billy could tell it was all playful banter. 

  “At Dustin’s.” He admitted, making Y/N laugh and nod as if it were to suspected. 

  “That was probably Steve’s doing, no doubt.” Y/N pointed out, filling up her own water before filling Billy’s glass automatically.

  “Yeah, it was Steve, he turned MTV on while he was watching us play D&D,” Will perked up at the mention of Steve. Looking right at Billy, he excitedly spoke. “I drew Joel Hoekstra a few months ago, but I made fire shoot out the end of the neck of his guitar. It’s insanely cool.” 

  “Billy, you haven’t gotten any food yet! Go on, you get some first.” Joyce noticed, holding a bowl of mashed potatoes to him. He looked at the bowl of potatoes, perfectly whipped. To anyone else at the table, it was just a bowl of starch and butter, but to Billy, it was the sign that they weren’t crazy. They were just not fitting into the box that everyone says you have to fit in. Looking at the bowl, he felt every bit of nervousness and apprehensiveness leave his body. Smiling, he gently took the bowl, scooping some out onto his plate, causing everyone to start putting food on their plates. 

  “Hey, Will,” Billy spoke up, causing everyone to look at him nervously. Jonathan eyed him, not trusting him yet. “Maybe after dinner, you could show me that drawing? Joel Hoekstra is my favourite member of Whitesnake.” He suggested, causing the boy to light up. Y/N smiled gently, her hand laying over Billy’s gratefully. Who knew that some mashed potatoes and Joel Hoekstra was all it took to see the Byers for who they were.

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 10

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex, slow burn and slight angst.

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TEN - NEXT

You hadn't heard Maxwell's faint whisper when he had gotten into the car. You had, however, acknowledged Jeeves brief nod of affirmation when Maxwell sank bank into his seat and clicked his seat belt in place before taking hold of your hand and pressing gentle, comforting kisses along your knuckles. Jeeves had taken the long way back to the penthouse, or so you assumed. There were plenty of detours, and pretty soon you realised he was actually driving you away from the bustling city. Pearly white snow lapped the landscape around you as he drove down the long road, framed by tall bare trees.

"We're leaving the city?" you asked Maxwell, leaning your head into his shoulder. "I thought we were going home."

"We are." Maxwell replied and you furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment, but opted not to say another word. You didn't need to. You trusted him. The rest of the journey was spent in comfortable silence, you and Max just glad to be in each other's presence once more.

Finally, Jeeves pulled up outside a huge white mansion with pillars bigger than you had ever seen before. It was magnificent, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Your hand not leaving his, Maxwell helped you out of the car and walked you to the front door, reaching into his pants pocket for the keys and unlocking it in one swift movement.

"This is- this is-" you were speechless.

"My home," Maxwell replied with a smile, carefully guiding you into the lobby. You wiped the icy water from your winter boots on the mat before following him down the hallway and into the front room. It was enormous, carpeted. A gorgeous marble fireplace and oil paintings hung up on every corner. Maxwell took a spare key from a fruit bowl and handed it to you. "And, your home. If you'd like."

"Wh- what are you proposing?" you quizzed, your eyes flicking between the silver key and Maxwell.

"I'd feel better knowing that you were here, safe. No one will harass you and you'll be way out of Tristan's reach. Although I'm inclined to believe that he'll be locked away for a very long time. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Maxwell took a deep, nervous breath. "Move in with me?"

"Here?" your eyes were comically wide in disbelief.

"I understand if you don't like the idea. If you think it's too soon…"

You swung your arms around Maxwell and hugged him tight, burying your face into the warmth of his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you back. "Yes." you mumbled happily, trying your hardest to hold back tears.

Maxwell spent a good hour giving you a grand tour of the house, and you were enamoured with the sight of every single room. Maxwell loved seeing how awestruck you were. This was all completely normal to him, but you helped him recognise how privileged he was to have such luxury. Maxwell took both of your hands when you had reached the final room of the house, his bedroom. "I know I told you I don't share a bed with… with…" you raised an eyebrow. "You know," he shrugged nervously and you nodded your head understandingly. "But I- I just think it might be nice if…"

You smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek before scowering around and checking out your beautiful bedroom which you shared with Maxwell Lord.

"I can't wait to get settled in." You admitted, your eyes sparkling.

"There is something I have to tell you…" Maxwell frowned and you looked at him with concern. Was this it? Was he finally going to admit his feelings? You had to say it back.

"Me too." you nodded confidently. "But, you first." You said with a small smile and Maxwell took a deep breath.

"I have a business trip and… I'll be out of town for the week leading up until Christmas. I leave tomorrow." Your heart sank. That was not what you were expecting at all. "But if you want me to stay… I can postpone until January. I mean, it'll be hard but- you've been through a lot and. If there's anything you need…"

"Oh," you couldn't help but reply, your brain desperately fumbling to collect the right words. "No, that's okay. I understand." you smiled weakly. You knew how much Maxwell valued his business, and that was okay. You just thought he was going to at least mention his drunken revelation from the previous night.

"I'm glad," Maxwell responded, and there was a short silence. "Uh- do you have plans for Christmas?" Maxwell asked and you shook your head. "Because, I don't really do anything on Christmas but I wouldn't want you to be alone. So maybe…"

You smiled. "You don't do anything on Christmas?" you asked curiously. Maxwell took your hand and pulled you down onto the bed.

"Uh, no. My dad loved Christmas. When I was a kid we'd do all kinds of cool stuff but after he passed… it just wasn't the same. My mother didn't make an effort. Sometimes she'd even leave me with the nanny while she travelled to New York to be with her friends." Maxwell explained, and you appreciated the fact he had most likely never revealed so much information to anyone before.

"That's awful, I'm so sorry." you whispered, leaning into his lap.

"Part of me doesn't want to leave you," Maxwell admitted. "Tomorrow- I mean… but it's Simon Stagg from Stagg Industries. Shit, if I don't go I could lose investment."

"It's okay," you reassured Max who simply just sighed. "I'll miss you."

You felt nervous. It was the first time you had been with Maxwell in such close proximity since realising your true feelings for him. And Max felt the same.

He placed his big hand on your face and ran his finger over your lower lip. "Well, let's make tonight count." he said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in and pressed a passionate kiss into you.

***

You were the first to wake up in the morning as the golden sunlight seeped through your curtains and highlighted your body. It didn't take long for you to realise that you were wrapped in Maxwell's arms, your head buried into his chest as you recalled the amazing night you had before. He was still asleep, light snores escaping his lips and you felt comfort in hearing his heartbeat. You felt safe, like you could live in the moment forever. You also realised this was the first time you had shared a bed with Max— slept together. It was a big deal, especially knowing how he had previously felt about such a thing.

There was one thing still praying on your mind. You and Max had yet to discuss what had been said the night of the gala. You had been desperately waiting for him to bring it up and reaffirm it. Tell you that he did in fact love you. But he hadn't. And you didn't know why. You tried to be optimistic, but it was easy to believe that maybe he wasn't bringing it up because he just didn't feel the same way. Maybe he thought he loved you, but his words were just induced by the actions of his mother, and Bruce, and a landslide consumption of alcohol.

You spent a few moments thinking about it, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you shuffled around uncomfortably. You felt like you had to get out of Max's confined grip; you felt like you couldn't breathe. Max mumbled something incoherent as you broke free and rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes and grabbing Max's robe to cover your naked body.

"Good morning," he mumbled groggily, adjusting his vision to focus on you. You paced around backwards and forwards by the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?" he quizzed, sensing your stress.

You wanted to say it— you wanted to confront him. Your mouth opened but before you could speak, Kenneth came running in. "Sir, your carpool to the airport is waiting outside."

"Airport?" you raised an eyebrow. "Max, where is the business meeting?"

Max sighed, rubbing his head. "Uh, London," he replied quietly and your eyes went comically wide.

"London?!" you repeated, your voice a little too high and a little too loud. When Max said he was going out of town, you thought he meant a different state at furthest… not a different continent!

"I- I will call you from the hotel every night," Max promised, sitting up and pressing his hands together. "I'll be home for Christmas. And you'll be safe here." Max cleared his throat and turned to Kenneth. "Uh, Ken, do you think we could get a little privacy?" Max requested and Kenneth nodded his head before leaving the room.

Max crawled out of bed and sat you down. "I don't have to go. Just say the words and I won't go." he told you quietly.

"I don't want to be the person who gets between you and your work," you replied sadly. "I'll be okay. Just- I'll miss you."

Max nodded understandingly, taking his wallet from the nightstand and pulling out one of the many Black Gold Cooperative business credit cards he owned. He placed it in your hands. "Remember darling, you want for nothing."

You appreciated the gesture, but the feeling of his credit card in your hand made you feel sick to your stomach. It reminded you that you were just his sugar baby. Nothing more. And as you watched Maxwell leave for his last minute business trip, you realised you might never be anything more.

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