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nerdzzone · 4 years ago

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Only For A Moment: November [part two]

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: October + November [part one]

Note: Life is very hectic at the moment so this was edited quite quickly. I think I caught all the mistakes, but I’m sorry if there’s any accidentally left in.

______

The photo shoot the next day went amazingly well. After being out of work for almost ten months, it took me a little while to get back into the swing of it, but I hit my stride quickly once I'd settled in. It helped that I was working with people who made my job almost effortless. Sebastian and Anthony had such good chemistry and were so good at what they do that we got through the day with no hiccups and I had more than enough photos to give Marvel what they'd asked for ten times over.

When I got back to the hotel room, I was in a great mood and it was made even better by the surprise for Chris that I had with me.

"Chris?" I called out as I walked into our large suite. "I'm back!"

He lifted an arm to wave from where he was sitting on the couch, his attention still fixed on the football game that was on the TV.

"How was the shoot?" He asked. "How are Mackie and Seb?"

I smiled, knowing he was about to be very excited as I answered him.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?"

That question got his attention and his head shot around to see what I was talking about. As his eyes landed on the two men standing behind me, a grin burst onto his face.

"No way!" He laughed as he leapt up to join us. "Hey, guys!"

All of us - Chris included - had been tested several times over the last few days to make sure that we were all virus free. There was obviously a small chance that one of us could have picked it up some time after one of the many negative results, but I was fairly confident that was pretty unlikely as we'd all been as careful as possible so I'd invited them over for a few drinks. Our hotel room was big enough for us to all keep our distance anyway and I knew that Chris would appreciate the chance to catch up with his friends.

They both greeted Chris before Anthony looked around the room.

"This place is nice!" He observed. "Marvel must love you, you could fit my room in here at least three times!"

"It's not Marvel who loves me," I smirked. "It's Chris - he upgraded our room."

There was a goofy grin on Chris' face as our two guests 'aww'd' in tandem.

"That was too cheesy," Anthony teased. "But man, don't you love me too? Where's my upgrade?"

"I'll get you next time," Chris laughed. "But to be honest, I thought you'd be staying with Sebastian now that you two are a power couple."

Sebastian snorted out a laugh, but Anthony nodded his head.

"I know, man! That's what I said, but Sebastian still won't tell me where he lives!"

"Because you're so obsessed with my couch that I'm worried you'll steal it!"

"Shouldn't buy yourself a five thousand dollar couch if you don't want people to talk about it," Anthony joked, making Sebastian roll his eyes.

"It didn't cost anywhere near that much money. You've never even seen it, I don't know where you got all these ideas from."

"When are you two getting married?" I interrupted with a smirk on my face as they both turned to look at me, their confusion clear. "Sorry, you've just been bickering like an old married couple all day. I was wondering when you were going to make it official."

"That's what we should be asking you two!" Anthony turned it around. "When did this happen anyway?"

"April," Chris answered, sliding his arm around my waist to pull me close. "After a month trapped in a house with me with no other options, she was finally desperate enough to give me a chance."

"That is not what happened," I laughed. "It was more just the fact that being trapped in a house together made us finally have some tough conversations that we'd never had the guts to have before."

"Well, I'm happy for you," Anthony grinned. "And some people owe me some money because I knew you'd get together eventually."

"Wait, you were betting on us?" Chris asked. "With who?"

"Not me," Sebastian was quick to interject, but Anthony just shrugged.

"There was a bunch of us in on it," he admitted. "Downey, Pratt, Renner, Hemsworth, Paul Rudd, Lizzie Olsen, and I think even the Russos. Someone was keeping track of it, I'll have to make some phone calls."

"I don't even want to hear about this," I laughed, shaking my head. I wasn't at all surprised, they were a tight crew and there was plenty of downtime on set for them to get up to all kinds of antics, but I had no desire to hear who was betting on our situation. "So, shall we have some drinks? What does everyone want? I figured we could just order from room service."

After a brief discussion on the matter, we ordered several beers for the men and a bottle of wine for me. It arrived with impressive speed - no doubt a perk of being with a group of celebrities in a penthouse suite - and we all settled around the living room, trying our best to keep some distance between us.

We chatted and caught up, discussing what we'd done to keep ourselves busy through lockdown and when things might start to be more normal - the usual pandemic conversations. The boys were just delving into some sports discussions that were totally lost on me when I received a message from Lisa saying that Grayson was having a bit of a moment and asked if I was able to call. It broke my heart to think of him missing us so I excused myself and did as she asked.

He was crying when she passed him the phone and I felt awful, immediately filled with guilt that we’d selfishly decided to stay in New York for the whole weekend. We would have arrived home quite late if we left right after the shoot, but as I couldn't remember the last time that he’d stayed overnight with someone other than Chris or I, it suddenly seemed cruel to have left him for so long.

He was in bed already, but unable to fall asleep so I chatted with him for a bit before singing him the lullaby that I'd been singing to him since he was born. It worked like a charm and once he was out, Lisa took the phone back.

"Is he doing okay?" I asked, fighting back tears of my own. "Has he been like this all day?"

"No, no, of course not!" She assured me. "He's been totally fine, we've had a great time. He just got a bit weepy as I was tucking him in."

"I'm glad he's been having fun," I sniffled. "I hate to think of him being upset."

"He's just fine, sweetheart," she insisted. "This will be good for all of you. It's good for him to get used to being away from you two and it must be nice for you two to have a break."

"It is," I admitted. "It just feels selfish when he's upset like that."

"Well, sometimes even us moms need to be a little selfish," Lisa laughed. "And selfishly on my part, it's been wonderful having him here."

I smiled, knowing she had been quite excited about their little sleepover.

"We really appreciate you taking him."

"It's absolutely my pleasure. Now, I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing and I will see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Lisa. I'll message you when we're heading out so you know when to expect us."

She assured me that they'd be home whenever we arrived and we said our goodbyes before I headed back out to the living room.

"Everything okay?" Chris asked as soon as I sat down.

"Yeah, for the most part," I sighed. "Grayson just got a bit upset at bedtime, I guess. He was crying and wanted to talk to me, but he's fine now."

Sensing I was feeling a bit emotional about it, Chris reached out and squeezed my hand as Anthony spoke.

"I was hoping you'd bring the little man with you. How's he doing?"

I smiled as a grin burst onto Chris' face. He went into a long, somewhat boastful explanation of just how good Grayson was doing, informing them of his extensive dinosaur knowledge and his impressive skills on his bike. It was heartwarming to hear the pride in his voice as he spoke and it was even nicer to see Sebastian and Anthony's genuine interest in hearing about him.

"They grow so damn fast, don't they?" Anthony commented. "One day they can hardly move and then suddenly they're practically BMX champions."

"Oh, no," I shook my head. "It took a good five months for me to allow him to take his training wheels off. He won't be BMX-ing any time soon."

"Well, I hear things are always scarier with the first one," Sebastian pointed out. "Maybe your next one can be the extreme sports star."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Anthony agreed. "When are you having another?"

I tossed back my last sip of wine before letting out a laugh at that question and side-eyeing Chris as I poured myself another glass.

"Did Chris pay you to ask me that?"

"No!" Anthony laughed. "But it's been, what? Four years? Seems like it's about time for another."

Chris snickered as he took a swig from the bottle of beer he was drinking, clearly feeling validated by Anthony's comments, but I just shook my head.

"We've been together for less than a year," I reminded them. "That's hardly long enough to start thinking about another baby."

"Sure, it is," Anthony shrugged. "Maybe not if the relationship is brand new, but you already have one kid, what's the harm in throwing another in the mix?"

"And we already know that we can work together as parents through complicated situations."

I shot Chris a look after his interjection because I really didn't think his friends needed to be involved in a discussion like this, but Sebastian chimed in as the voice of reason.

"It's more complicated than that though, isn't it?" He asked. "Babies are stressful and can ruin a relationship if you're not ready for it."

"Exactly! Thank you, Seb."

"What does he know?" Anthony teased. "He's never had a baby."

I rolled my eyes as I sipped my drink, trying to ignore Chris' smug face.

"If you're such a big fan of the idea, Anthony, why don't you have more kids?"

"More? I already have four!" He laughed. "That's more than enough. Hell, after being in lockdown with them, you could have one of mine if you're not ready to have another of your own."

"I think we're good with one right now," I insisted with a smile. "At least until we see where this whole pandemic thing ends."

"Alright, alright, that's fair," Anthony relented. "But just remember when the time comes, Anthony is a solid name. Or even Antonia for a girl."

"Actually," I smirked. "I do quite like the name Sebastian."

Sebastian barked out a laugh over Anthony's protests as Chris came up with a compromise.

"Sebastian Anthony Evans?" He suggested.

"Can you imagine?" I giggled. "Your fans would lose their minds. You'd have to raise him together, you could make a reality show out of it."

"That's a money making opportunity right there," Anthony grinned. "You just let me know when you need me to show up."

"As entertaining as that sounds, it won't be any time soon," I insisted before changing the subject. "What about you, Sebastian? How's your love life going? Any babies on the horizon?"

His cheeks instantly tinged pink at the attention being flipped onto him as he answered the question and Anthony’s teasing shifted to him.

About an hour later, after our guests left, I found myself stretched out on the couch with my head in Chris' lap as he ran his fingers through my hair. It felt so good that I was resisting the urge to purr like a happy cat when Chris distracted me with a question.

"How was the shoot?" He asked. "I just realized that I never got an answer."

"It was great," I smiled up at him. "It felt weird at first after being away for so long, but Sebastian and Anthony are such goofs. It helped me relax and get back into it."

I felt his body shake as he chuckled, no doubt knowing his friends well enough to imagine the antics they got up to.

"I'm glad it went well. Maybe now there's more projects starting up, you'll start getting more job offers again and you won't have to go so long without doing it."

"Oh, I've had plenty of job offers," I admitted. "But most of them I'd have to travel for or they just seem too risky."

Chris was clearly surprised by that confession as I hadn't mentioned any of the proposals I'd received to him, but it didn't seem important when I'd never even considered taking any of the jobs.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" He asked. "We could have worked something out and made it happen."

"Because I didn't want to accept any of the offers," I assured him. "I don't feel super comfortable flying around the country right now and most of them had pretty half-assed safety protocols in place. This was the first one that was close by and had a clear and thorough safety plan. Marvel wanted me for Wandavision too, but I would’ve had to go to L.A. and I didn't feel great about that."

Chris frowned, his fingers pausing momentarily in my hair as he mulled over my answer.

"I get it, that's solid reasoning," he nodded. "But I'm sorry you've had to make decisions like that. I know you love what you do."

"So do you," I shrugged. "So do a lot of people who are currently out of work. I've got it pretty good, I try to focus on that."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to miss things too," Chris insisted before letting out a sigh. "Do you ever worry that things won't ever get back to normal?"

As I looked up at him and saw the melancholy look on his face, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me.

"Not really," I admitted. "I worry more about what will happen when they do..."

"Oh?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, I don't want anyone to get sick anymore and I don't want any more people to die. I want to see my family again and meet my nephew and I want Grayson to be able to go to school and make friends," I prefaced my statement. "But for us, it's been really nice. We've been able to figure each other out and build our relationship without anything else interfering and I just worry that when things go back to normal, it won't work."

The hurt that flashed across Chris' face made my chest tighten. I hadn't meant to upset him, but it was foolish of me to think that my doubts wouldn't be hard to hear.

"You don't think we'll stay together when the lockdowns are all done?"

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"Well, that's what you said..."

"I said it was something I worry about," I clarified. "And I do. It'll be a lot harder when we're both working again."

"It's one thing to think it'll be harder," Chris scowled. "It's another to think we can't make it work. Are you planning on running at the first sign of trouble?"

Feeling the panic bubbling inside me, I pulled my head out of Chris' lap and sat up so I was facing him. I did want to run away in that moment - his harsh tone hurting my feelings and making my defences bubble to the surface - but I reminded myself of how avoiding our problems had worked for us in the past and tried to stay calm and explain myself.

"I'm not going to run away, Chris," I assured him. "And I don't really appreciate the way you're speaking to me right now. You asked a question and I explained my feelings, but instead of wanting to talk through that, you're immediately getting upset. I'm allowed to have concerns and all you're doing right now is making them worse."

Despite my frustrations, I kept my voice calm as I spoke and it seemed to have the desired effect as the tension in Chris' body eased slightly.

"Sorry, you're right," he sighed. "I just thought we've been doing so well, I'm surprised that you still have doubts."

"We're just living in such a bubble right now," I pointed out. "When everything goes back to normal and we're both back at work more, we'll be so busy. Balancing that with making sure Grayson gets enough of our attention, it might not leave much time for us and that would strain any relationship."

"It'll be more of a challenge than it is now," Chris agreed, his words spoken cautiously as if they were carefully chosen. "But most parents struggle with balancing their relationship with time spent with their kids. We'll just have to make the effort."

"But we have more to cope with than most parents."

He looked skeptical of that claim.

"How so?"

"Well, you'll be away a lot once you start filming things again," I reminded him, knowing that his next project had plans to film in L.A. and Europe. "And you'll be surrounded by beautiful, smart, talented women who I pale in comparison to."

"That’s not true, but regardless, I won't even look at them twice." His voice was firm and for a moment I worried that he was annoyed again, but as he took my hand in his and lifted his eyes to meet mine, he just seemed sincere. "I love you, Whitney. I only want to be with you."

"I know, I do, I know that. I love you too and I trust you, but I guess it just still feels like you being in love with me is too good to be true."

"I don't think that you do know," Chris insisted. "I'm completely committed to you. I know it's only been a few months, but it's been some of the best months of my life. What we've been doing - you, me and Grayson just hangin’ out and being a family - it's what I've been dreaming of since he was born, it's what I've always wanted. I can't imagine a future without you in it, I don't even want to think about it. I love you and I love the life we're building together."

I felt my eyes grow glassy as he spoke, my heart melting at his words.

"Wow," I murmured quietly. It was a lame response to such heartfelt words, but I was trying to process everything he’d said and, after a moment of staring into his beautiful eyes, I choked out a laugh. "That almost sounded like a proposal."

Chris chuckled and nodded his head.

"I know. Even I wondered where I was going with that for a minute there," he admitted. "It wasn't, but it's all true. I'm in this for as long as you'll have me."

He lifted my hand up to place a kiss on my knuckles and I suddenly felt ridiculous for having any doubts.

"I feel the same," I assured him. "I really do. I don't want you to think that I'm not as invested in this as you are. I just like how things are now and thinking about it changing scares me."

"It'll be different, but we can make it work."

I smiled and crawled into his laps, letting my knees rest on either side of his thighs.

"I guess I've just been spoiled these last few months," I mused, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. "I don't want to share you with the world, I want you all to myself."

Chris chuckled as our foreheads rested against each other.

"You really are clingy," he teased. "I always thought I'd be the needy one in this relationship."

"Shut up," I giggled, pressing our lips briefly together again. "And for the record, all those sweet, wonderful things you just said aren't getting you any closer to convincing me we should have another baby yet."

Chris' head fell backwards as a laugh burst from his chest.

"Alright, alright, well, it was worth a shot," he smirked. "But seriously, that's how confident I am in us. It wouldn’t even scare me if we did because I know we can handle it."

I smiled even though I probably didn't share quite that much confidence in our future. I wouldn't bet against us, but I wasn't ready to bring a baby into a situation that might not be such smooth sailing in a few months.

"We have to think about Grayson too though," I pointed out. "He's had a lot to deal with the last few months, a lot of big changes. Throwing a sibling at him on top of everything else might be a little bit cruel."

"That's true," Chris relented, looking a bit defeated for a moment until a smile slid onto his face. "He'll be such a good big brother though. He'll be so excited to teach him everything he knows."

"Him?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "We're going to have another boy, are we?"

"Him or her," Chris shrugged. "I'd be happy either way."

I couldn't help, but smile at his enthusiasm. It was a nice thought even if it was clearly a more distant fantasy for me than it was for Chris.

"One day," I assured him. "I love you, Chris."

"I love you too."

With a strength that never ceased to amaze me, he then stood from the couch, lifting me up with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, giggling at the impressive feat as he carried me to our bedroom where we spent the rest of the night showing some physical appreciation and love for each other.

December

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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otomegema · 3 years ago

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title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #help ive fallen into gojo brain rot and cant get up

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missmorosis · 4 years ago

Text

HIHI!! THANK YOU FOR 600 WTF

IM KINDA SORTA LATE FOR MY OWN EVENT BECAUSE I WAS STILL DOING MY 500 EVENT BUT IM SUPER EXCITED FOR THIS ONE ESP BC I FEEL LIKE I HAVENT DONE MATCHUPS IN A HOT MINUTE HEHHE

but THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 600??? LIKE UH

UH WHAT?? THATS PRACTICALLY MY SIZE OF MY ENTIRE SCHOOL GN 😭😭

DGKSDFK ITS INSANE TO ME? THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH I LOVE YOU ALLLLLL

MWAH MWAH MWAHHH IM GIVING 600 KITHES TO ALL OF YOU HEHEH

okay OKAY NOW ONTO THE EVENT HEHLAFKS

requirements:

*now closed!!

here’s what you need to send me!!

gender/pronouns/preferred gender

a brief description of your personality, include an mbti :D

hobbies hehe

something you love about yourself, it can be physical or non-physical!! (istg if you say “nothing” i will get over there and start aggressively complimenting you SO YOU BETTER SAY SOMETHING GOOD ABOUT YOURSELF OR ELSE)

what you look for in a significant other

your top 3 favorite songs 😌

AND okay okay YOU KNOW THOSE TAG GAMES?? WHERE YOU CHOOSE WHICH ONE?? please pick from here!! light or dark / love is pink or love is red / introvert or extrovert / movie nights or beach dates / slow dancing to slow songs or dancing like nobody’s watching with your s/o

+ if you’re comfortable enough, send me either a picture of yourself (separately if you don't want it public hehe) OR a description of what you look like :D

** if you’re going to send in an appearance description, include your hair/eye color, height, skin tone :D

(optional but i beg) TALK TO MEEEE

SORRY THERES SO MANY REQUIREMENTS ALDKFJKLSDL- i swear its not that much when you put it down

anons are allowed, but off-anon is preferred bc ill probably be lurking on your blog to see what type of vibe you have HSHDHD

PLEASE BE NICE!! the nicer you are, the more inclined i feel to do your request hehe

ALSO!! make sure youre following me bestie :))

im only allowing 15 spots at a time (once im done with those, maybe ill open it up again??) and its a first come, first serve basis!!

16/15 spots filled!! (ill update this accordingly!)

in return...

- i’ll ship you with someone who i think fits you!!

- ill make you a mini spotify playlist with songs that fit your vibe (LMAOO like 5-10 songs)

- draw you a stupid album cover (with you and your ship if you included your appearance!!)

- baby blurb with your ship (100-250 words hehe) ✋😩

ALSO SDFKJK here’s my spotify follow me n lets be spotify moots 💃💃

here’s an example of what to send/what i give you under the cut!!

hi can i get one of those event request things?? (LMAOO IDK WHAT TO CALL IT KSDFJK)

im straight, she/her pronouns, and preferably male hehe

okay OKAY personality description... im pretty loud?? im introverted but i act like an extrovert sometimes SJKDFKJSFD- HMM im also weirdly hyper half the time BAHAHA- isfj-t baybeee

HOBBIES!! i love writing/watercolor/playing ukulele hehe

i love how social i can be! (PLEASE GO INTO MORE DETAIL ON THIS, I JUST DONT WANNA SOUND ARROGANT HEREKJLSDFL- BUT INCLUDE MORE THAN “i love how social i can be” GN)

i look for someone dependable/someone who can take my jokes because bullying is my love language + SENSE OF HUMOR IS SO IMPORTANT JFDJ ✋😩

my top 3 favorite songs atm are hmm any song by zico 😌 i dont want to watch the world end with someone else by clinton kane, and hmm cloud 9 by beach bunny :D

light or dark / love is pink or love is red / introvert or extrovert / movie nights or beach dates / slow dancing to slow songs or dancing like nobody’s watching with your s/o

i have dark brown hair and eyes, im 5′0″ sadly, and a warm beige skin tone!

hehehe

in return... ill give you something like this!!

-> now playing!

Love with you and Kuroo sounds like pure laughter bubbling out of your lips at three in the morning. You were laying on your bed, back down, eyes upon your ceiling when your ever-so-loving boyfriend decided to flop down onto your vulnerable stomach, and you grunted.

“Tetsu- get off of me-” you said, in between laughs.

“Never.” He now leaned with all of his weight, making you shriek. You couldn’t see all of his face, but you could see the sparkle in his eye. All jokes aside, it's a state of vulnerability and you both are here for it.

#ill do these during class tomorrow JSDJF #now playing: what love sounds like- missmorosis #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu matchups

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willykappymarnsmatts · 4 years ago

Text

Angels Like You (Can't Fly Down Here With Me)(A. Matthews/M. Marner)(Chapter 2)

As soon as Mitch closes and locks the door to his apartment, he slumps against it, dropping his bag to the floor in the process. His cheeks are scratchy and dry from the tears that had been falling for like half an hour, but at least he’s finally stopped crying. He pulls his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and glances at the notifications. There’s only a snapchat from Dylan Strome and an Instagram message from Kasperi, probably from before his practice started. Nothing from Monica, which hurts more than he thought it would. He clicks his phone off, and puts it on the tile floor next to him. He leans his head back but misjudges how far he’s sitting from the door and ends up banging the back of his head against it. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting his eyes closed. He isn’t about to start crying again, and definitely not about bumping his goddamn head.

His stomach rumbles, but he doesn’t want to get up from the cool tile floor. His entire body aches like somebody just cross-checked him onto his face. Not even Zeus, his dog, is there to cheer him up, since he’s visiting with Mitch’s brother for the week. Usually Mitch would call Monica after practice, but after her surprise showing up in the locker room, he doubts that will ever happen again. Maybe he could call Auston, but after the whole teary-hug-thing, he doesn’t know if that’s the best idea ever. Auston would just not stop asking if he’s okay, rather than pretending like nothing happened, which is honestly all that Mitch needs right now. It hurts too much to even think about it.

He has to go get wasted.

Even though it's not even six p.m.

So he scrolls through his phone to find Willy’s number and sends a quick text.

Drinks?

The ‘typing’ dots show up almost right away, and a second later a message pops up.

Mitch it’s 4:30

And?

Yeah ur right

I’ll be at ur place in 15

Mitch nods at his phone and slowly gets up from the floor. He thinks about texting Fred and Mo and maybe Zach, but he’s not really in the mood for a big party thing. He just wants to get drunk with one of his best friends.

So he goes into his room and pulls off his shirt to change into something a bit nicer when his phone dings with another text from Will.

Auston coming?

No and don’t ask him

I just wanna hang u and me

He does feel kind of bad about not asking him, because when do they ever go out without each other, but Mitch knows Auston well enough to know that he won’t let Mitch breathe if he were to come. Instead of overthinking it, Mitch grabs his keys and goes to wait outside his apartment building for Will’s car.

He’s outside for a couple of minutes before Will gets there, and when he pulls up Mitch jumps up and runs the couple of meters to his black car. “William,” Mitch states when he opens the passenger-side door.

“Mitchell. Where are we heading?” He taps the steering wheel lightly and runs his hand through his blonde hair. He is really pretty, Mitch has to admit but he’s definitely not his type, the whole ‘I’m beautiful and I know it’ thing a bit too obvious.

If he were gay, that is. He’s not. Definitely not.

“The usual place.” Mitch replies, and Will nods and puts the car in gear. It’s silent for the first few minutes, Will focusing on getting through the Toronto traffic, Mitch staring blankly at his phone. He opens Instagram, but the first picture on his feed is from Monica’s account, so he quickly unfollows her and shuts off his phone, dropping it onto his lap when he’s done.

“So,” Will starts, unsure of how Mitch will take the question he’s about to ask.

“If you’re going to start with ‘how are you doing with the breakup, Mitch?’ don’t even bother. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Mitch puts on a deep voice and waves his hands in the air in an attempt to mock Will, and it’s obvious he’s only half-joking. Will doesnt take it personally, though, telling himself that his friend is going through a lot.

“Um, first of all, that is not how I sound, and second of all, I was going to ask what’s going on with you and Auston? Usually the three of us go out, and after this afternoon…” he trails off.

“Nothings going on with me and Auston,” Mitch says slowly, unsure of what exactly Will is getting at. “What are you even talking about? I didn’t ask him to come because I knew he’d be weird about it and not let me live.” Will just nods, looking straight ahead. He turns his blinker on and Mitch starts again. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing. I just assumed something might have happened, that’s all.” Mitch gives him a look and Will lets out a breathy laugh. “Seriously! That’s all.” Mitch nods at him cautiously and the conversation kind of trails off. They talk hockey for a couple minutes, but it’s painfully obvious that the two are waiting to get at least one drink down to talk about their relationship, or, in Mitch’s case, ex-relationship, problems.

Will makes another turn into the parking lot of a small bar you wouldn't notice if you didn’t know exactly where it was. The two walk into the bar and realize it’s busier than they would have thought it would be at 5 in the afternoon, but what difference does it make at this point. They’re already there, so Mitch finds a booth while Will goes to the bar to order them beers. Mitch pulls out his phone and sees a text from Auston that reads it was sent five minutes ago.

how r u mitch? everything ok? :(

Mitch has a weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he reads the text, but he tells himself he shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s not like he did anything wrong. He ignores the text and forces a smile he knows looks fake when Will comes back to the table, a beer in each hand. He sets one down in front of Mitch and the two sit in silence for a second. “Spill. Everything.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck happened, Willy. I knew something was coming, because she always gets kind of distant and stops responding to my texts and calls before she pulls some drastic bullshit like this, but I didn’t think she’d make me choose between my two favourite people on the planet.” He looks up suddenly, as if the words are falling out of his mouth faster than he can process them. “No offence, you’re obviously also my favorite person, it’s just...” Will just shakes his head, smiles a bit and waves him off, taking a sip of his drink. Mitch does the same, and Will takes it as a chance for him to talk.

“Did you ever actually love her, Mitch? Like, I know you always said she’s so great and makes you so happy, but when you really think about it, was there ever even one full day where you were completely and utterly happy with her?”

He pauses and racks his brain for something, anything, literally one fucking memory of the two of them together when Mitch wasn’t berated for something he did wrong, or when she wasn’t on her phone the entire time they were together, or that time she ditched him for her friends on their six month anniversary where Mitch had planned a dinner at a fancy restaurant and they would walk through downtown Toronto in the evening and watch the sunrise on the beach. He was devastated that day, and suddenly the sadness he was feeling turns to anger and guilt. Anger at her, for everything she put him through while somehow convincing him it was love, and guilt, for all the times he ignored his friends while they told him how bad she was for her. He feels like he’s about to start crying again, and he knows he will if he looks up at his friend, so staring at the table, he says, “I can’t.”

Will nods, cocking his head to the side. “It’s okay, Marns. And it’s okay that you’re still hurting over her, because trust me, even though now you realize it was never real, it’s gonna hurt like hell. You have to let it, otherwise it’ll never get better.” “I’ve been through a breakup before, William,” Mitch snaps, but he’s smiling.

“I know, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. And so is Auston.” He doesn’t realize what he’s implying until it’s out of his mouth, but he’s almost 100% sure Mitch missed it too. Just to be safe, he adds, “And the rest of the team, too, obviously.”

Mitch nods and downs half his beer, then looks at Will. “Honestly it doesn’t even hurt now that I realize that. I’m just really fucking angry.”

“So you know what you should do?”

“Hm?” Mitch tips the glass of beer back to finish it off and sets it back on the table, never breaking eye-contact with Willy.

“When you get home, you pack a box of her shit together and fucking set fire to it. Burn everything. Pictures, souvenirs, ticket stubs, everything. It’s what I did when I broke up with my high school girlfriend, and it’s honestly really freeing.”

Mitch nods, kind of unsure about the idea of setting their relationship up in flames. Will reads him easily though, so he laughs and continues. “Or, you could put her shit in a box and tell her to come pick it up, otherwise it's going in the trash.” The two of them smile and Mitch nods.

“That sounds like a much better option. And still freeing.” There’s a lull in conversation, and honestly Mitch doesn’t have much more to say about his predicament other than long, angry rants, so he decides to prompt Willy. “So, you and Kas…”

“Oh my God my turn! Okay so he called me last night, right,” he leans forward and props his elbows up on the table, and Mitch smiles and leans his head in his hands.

The two of them spend the next few hours in their booth, Mitch downing beer after beer, Will stopping after one because he’s going to be the one to have to drive them both home. Close to eight pm, Will realizes how long the two of them have been sitting there, as well as just how drunk Mitch is. He’s slurring his words and isn’t really focusing on Will, looking around the room unfocused while he attempts to keep up with the conversation. He smiles to himself and tells Mitch it’s time to get home.

“No,” he states like a five year old. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Yes, you do, bud. We have a game tomorrow night, and you don’t wanna be too tired and hungover to play, do you?”

Mitch shakes his head while Will stands, stuffs his phone into his pocket, and pulls out his keys. He waits for Mitch to stand, then wraps his arm around his waist to help him to the door. He could probably walk on his own, but he doesn’t want to take that chance in a crowded bar with a guy who is heavier as dead weight than he looks like he’d be.

The drive home is silent until Mitch picks up his phone and quickly realizes he can’t read what’s on the screen. “I’m drunk,” he announces, and Will laughs. “Can you read it?” he attempts to hand his phone to Will, then realizes shit, he’s driving, and pulls it back to himself.

“After, Mitch,” and he nods exaggeratedly in response. They pull up to Mitch’s apartment, and getting him up to his floor is slightly easier than Will imagined it would be. He does have to help him into bed, though, and doesn’t bother undressing him. He pulls the covers back for Mitch and sits him down on the mattress. He takes the phone from him while he lies down and glances at the screen. There's five text messages from Auston, all spaced out over the three hours they’d been out.

if u need to talk, u know im here

mitch?

ur probably busy or smtg… text when u get a chance

did i make things weird tdy? im sry if i did

call me mitch plz

“Jesus,” Will mutters under his breath and unlocks Mitch’s phone to respond. Mitch gave him his passcode a long time ago, so he knows he won’t care.

Hey its Will

Everything is fine, Mitch is super drunk, that's all

Dw about him

u guys went out?

Will knows how bad it looks that the two of them went without Auston, but he should be able to understand.

He needed some one-on-one w someone not as close to him I think

It def wasn't a party, we drowned in our emotions, man

alright i get it

shit, can u plz delete the messages from before?

including these actually

Ofc np

“Night, Mitch,” Will whispers, although he already realizes Mitch is passed out. He sets his phone on the night table next to him and makes sure to lock the apartment door behind him. Mitch honestly cannot be more blind about his literal soulmate being madly in love with him, but he thinks he has a plan to help him figure it out now.

U should pick him up tmrw for the game. He's gonna be hungover af and moody

ofc, was planning on it anyways :)

#auston matthews #mitch marner #william nylander #kasperi kapanen fics #dylan strome #auston matthews/mitch marner #auston matthews x mitch marner #mitch marner x auston matthews #mitch marner/auston matthews #unrequited love #toronto maple leafs #nhl #nhl hockey #boys are dumb and i love them #willykappymarnsmatts

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Cheryl//she means everything to me

Request: Can I request a Cheryl Blossom request where the reader is Archie's twin (a girl) and a super close with her brother and his friends so she doesn't like Cheryl but one day she finds Cheryl crying over Jason and comforts her so Cheryl falls for her and becomes like her best friends has her join the vixens constantly by her side and eventually the reader falls for her and like a super fluffy ending please ps I really love everything you write

hey! i had so much fun writing this, you have no idea! its also super gay!

“Well would you look at that, the sad breakfast club have reunited at lunch.” Cheryl’s cheery voice stops all conversations happening and everyone turns to look at her, her red hair blows softly in slight breeze and her eyes twinkle with whatever chaos she’s going to cause today.

“What do you want Cheryl?” Betty is the first to speak, dropping her fork on her tray as you all wait for her to start her insults.

“Well, cousin, I actually wanted to see how you were. But however, if you’re going to be like that.” She clears her throat before narrowing her eyes. “Betty, your ponytail is wonky and that sweater really washes you out, your hobo of a boyfriend really needs a bath because well, I can smell him from here, or maybe thats just the ridiculously childish hat he refuses to take off. Archie, you’re hair is so ridiculously bright today, its actually blinding me, and it looks like you’ve put enough product in to drown all the little lice that lives in it, Veronica that dress was popular last season, and the shoes a decade ago, and Y/n, I actually didn’t realize you were here. Like I kind of forgot that you existed for a few minutes. What’s it like in your brothers shadow?” She finishes her little speech with a bright smile and the five of you sigh before starting to eat again. You can never read Cheryl, one day she can be sweet and lovely and want to help, the next she’s the worst person you’ll ever meet.

“Probably a lot nicer than being in yours...I can imagine Jason’s shadow is particularly cold.” Veronica retorts and your eyes widen in surprise...that was cold, even for Veronica. Archie smiles proudly at his girlfriend and presses a soft kiss to her head while the rest of the table laugh, including yourself, all 5 of you ignoring Cheryl as she turns on her heel and storms off.

“Lovely talking to you!” Jughead calls after her causing you all to laugh even louder.

“Will she ever stop being a bitch?” You wonder aloud and the laughing pauses, giving everyone a chance to look at each other for a few seconds before you start giggling again.

“I don’t think its possible for Cheryl to be anything other.” Your brother replies through a mouthful of sandwich and you nod in reply.

-----

“Do you wanna ride Y/n?” Archie shouts across the parking lot as he gestures to the truck behind him. Veronica is already in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone and you so desperately want to go with them, even if they’ll do gross things in Archie’s room until your mom gets back from work, but today apparently is not your day,

“If I’m not back when mom gets home tell her that I haven’t been kidnapped or murdered, I’m just going to be late because Cheryl set her Vixens out for revenge and they’ve stolen my bag so I get to play a fun game of hide-and-seek with all my stuff.” You huff, blowing a piece of hair from your face as your shoulder slump in defeat. The fact that you could be spending up to a few hours extra at this stupid school actually hitting you, and Archie gives you a sympathetic look in response to your frown.

“Do you need some help?” He offers but you shake your head. You don’t want to drag him into this, plus you can imagine the Vixens are already planning what they’re going to do to him and the rest of your friends, so you may-as-well give him some peace while he can get it.

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I was always the best at finding things when we were younger.” You shrug. “Plus, you don’t want to keep your girlfriend waiting.” You nod towards Veronica who’s hanging her head out the passenger window.

“I suppose not.” He replies, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks back at his girlfriend and you can’t help but feel a little sad. You’re glad Archie and Veronica have finally worked everything out and are madly in love, but a small part of you feels left behind.

Practically all of your friends are in relationships or are dating, leaving you to be the odd one out at literally any get together. However you have very limited options when it comes to dating, there’s not a lot of queer girls in Riverdale, or even the surrounding towns, at least not a lot of them are out and the ones that are you don’t really like that much. *cough* Cheryl *cough*. And no matter how hard your friends try to set you up with someone, they always seems to pick the worst people. No matter how many times you tell them what your type is.

Three weeks ago Veronica set you up with a girl who came into Pop’s a lot and the only reason she went on a date with you is because she liked Veronica and wanted to know her ‘deal’. Which you can imagine she was very surprised when you told her she was dating your twin brother...yikes.

Maybe you should join a convent. Or get one of those apps that Kevin uses, but only weirdos...and Kevin are on those types of apps. And do they even have them for gay girls.

You ponder your options as you walk behind the bleachers, humming a song you heard in the car this morning as you go. You’re also trying to figure out how to get back at Cheryl and her minions when you hear sniffling coming from a little further ahead of you. Stopping in your tracks you look up and towards the noise to see none other than Cheryl Blossom crying by herself. Thankfully she hasn’t seen you yet and and you quickly look around to see how far your escape is. You're about to turn on your heels when the nice side of you decides to show up, unfortunately.

God, why do I have to have a conscious.

You take a deep breath and send a prayer to literally anybody listening that she doesn’t bite your head off, before you slowly make your way towards the red-head.

“Cheryl?” Your voice shakes with uncertainty and as soon as she hears someone say her name her head lifts up and she’s wiping the tears from her eyes, a look of distain taking over the previous sad expression.

“What do you want Andrews?” She spits and looks you up and down.

You decided to ignore her tone, and try to keep your nice one as you continue your conversation. “Are you okay?”

“Just fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest and her jaw locks as she looks away from you.

“Are you sure?” You ask and sit on the floor a few feet away from her. “Because, you don’t seem it.”

“What’s it to you anyway?” She snaps and you roll your eyes.

“You’re right. It is none of my business.” You sigh and stand up, dusting your jeans off once your stood. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Y/n?” She calls after you and you huff before turning around. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes widen at the words thats just come of of her mouth and you need to sit down.

“What?!” Your jaw drops and she rolls her eyes at you. “Did you actually just apologize to me?”

“Yes, but I can take it back if you want.” She mutters and you force a smile away as you sit down beside her again, this time a tiny bit closer to her than before but she doesn’t seem to mind, instead your pretty sure she shuffles a little closer to you too.

“Sorry.” You mumble and a small smile appears on her face.

“Did you just apologize?” She mocks and you giggle a little.

“Okay, I deserved that.” You nod. “Do you want to talk about why you’re sat on the floor behind the bleachers after everyone has gone home, crying?”

“Well, when you put it so delicately, sure.” She replies and you send her a look. “I miss Jason.”

“Oh.” You say and look at the your hands. You’re not really sure what to say to that. It’s not like you can bring him back, or even take away her pain. As much as you don’t like her, Cheryl’s been through an awful lot. Far more than anybody else and you can’t help but feel slightly sorry for her.

“Yep.” She take a quick glance at you before deciding to look straight ahead. An idea pops into your head and you sit up a little before looking at her.

“What do you miss about him?”

“What?” She furrows her brows as she looks at you and you take a deep breath before explaining.

“Well, in my experience...it kind of helps to talk about what you miss about them. Because it doesn’t push away the fact that they’re gone, and it also helps me remember the best bits about them. So even though it always stings, overall it makes me feel a little better. If that makes sense?”

“Yeah.” She nods and you can tell she’s thinking about what you’ve just said. “I get that. That was surprisingly insightful for you.”

“Thanks.” You laugh and she giggles a little. “So what do you miss about him?”

“I miss...how he always used to tell me stupid jokes whenever mom or dad had been mean to me or if they’d argued.” She smiles a little at the memory, despite the sad undertones and you can’t help but think how brave Cheryl actually is. “And how when we were younger we used to share a room and he would always tell me bedtime stories. Usually after my mom had come in and told us scary ones. As soon as he’d hear her walk down the stairs he would slip out of his bed and climb into mine and tell me magical stories, usually involving the two of us. We’d be superheroes or we’d live in a caste and we’d be happy.”

“Thats sweet.”

“Yeah. He was. He was just the best. He always looked after me, no matter what. None of his friends were aloud to make fun of me no matter how old we were, and when I didn’t have many friends when I was younger he’d make sure I never felt lonely...he was a good person.”

“He was yeah.” You nod in agreement. “When I was about ten, he was playing football with a bunch of his friends and I was walking past them, trying to get away from them as soon as possible. He ended up throwing the ball and it hit me right in the end making me fall over. And instead of laughing, he ran over to me and he said sorry while helping me up. Then he took me to the nurses office and waited with me until my dad picked me up.” You smile flickers for a moment at the mention of your father and Cheryl seems to pick up on it, placing a gentle hand on your arm making you smile a little. “If that was any other boy, they would have laughed. But no, he helped me and I think that sums up Jason perfectly.”

“Yeah. It really does.” She looks at you properly, for what is probably the first time ever and she feels her breathing quicken. How was she ever mean to you? Your eyes are sparkling in the sunlight as you talk about the very few memories of Jason, and she has to fight the urge to cry. Nobody apart from her brother has ever been this nice to her, and after Jason’s death, nobody really said anything nice about him, they usually just talked about the theories surrounding his murder.

A soft smile dances across your lips, the corners of your lips curled upwards and she feels herself mirroring it. Your hair blows a little in the slight breeze and you tuck the stray bits behind your ear, leaving the rest to fall around your face. She giggles when your nose scrunches up at a particularly gross part of a story involving puke and a swimming pool and she frowns when you stop laughing, due to a sad part in a story that also involves your father. She just wants to wrap her arms around you and forget about the entire world and all of the horrible things in it.

“Did that help?” You ask and she nods, a sweet smile on her lips as she looks at you.

“Yeah...thanks.”

“No problem!” You reply, a bright grin on your face and she feels her heart flutter at the sight. She’s never really seen you smile like this, and even if she has caught a glimpse of it, its never directed at her. She feels like she needs to go back in time and right all of those wrongs because she needs to see you smile like that more often.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why exactly were you skulking around the bleachers in the first place?”

“Oh. I was looking for my bag.”

“How’d you lose a whole bag?” She laughs but when she notices you looking at her, your eyebrows raised, she remembers how you could lose a whole bag. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“You can make it up to me by telling me where it is.” You nudge her shoulder and she grimaces.

“Yeahhh. About that. You’re not going to like where they put it.”

“Where did they put it?” You narrow your eyes at her.

“The bin...in the cafeteria.”

“Damn.” You sigh. “Well, I suppose it needed a wash anyway.”

“Sorry.” She sighs, looking at the floor.

“Its fine.” You grab her hand and she looks at you surprised making you pull your hand away (much to her disappointment). “I kind of deserved it. What Veronica said was pretty harsh and I didn’t say anything.”

“No, no. You didn’t say it, you didn’t say anything actually. I was really mean to you and you just took it. I’m so sorry.”

“If it makes you feel any better I did call you a bitch after you left.” You shrug and she looks at your surprised.

“You know.” She stands up and dusts her skirt off, offering you a hand afterwards. “That does kind of make me feel a little better.”

“I’m glad.” You grin and let her pull you up.

“I can help you find your bag and then give you a lift home...thats if you want to.” She trails off at the end, she never feels nervous, but suddenly you’re making her more nervous than she’s ever felt before.

“Sure.” You nod. “You can tell me more stories about Jason if you want.” You ask and its only now that you realize you’re still holding her hand. You mumble a quick sorry and let go before starting to walk away. “You coming?” You look back at her and she swears her heart actually skips a beat as she stares at you, the sun behind you makes you look ethereal, and she’s always believed in angels, but its only now that she’s actually seen one.

“Yeah.” She nods. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think anybody could forget that you existed.”

especially not me...not now

-----

“Did you find your bag honey?” Your mom asks as you walk into the kitchen.

“Mom. You’re back early.” You smile awkwardly at her and then to Archie, who’s stood on the other end of the kitchen with a worried expression on his face. It doesn’t take you a minute to figure out Veronica is upstairs and he’s trying to sneak her out.

“Well, yeah.” She nods and takes a sip of coffee. “I was finished my work and I wanted to spend time with my babies.” She pinches your cheek softly making you roll your eyes. Archie is still looking towards the door and you can hear the slight creaks of the floorboards as Veronica tries to sneak down the stairs.

“I-” Archie is about to practically shout over the noise but your mom puts her hand up in the air, effectively stopping him.

“Just tell her to come down. She can stay for dinner if she wants.” She shakes her head and sends you a quick smile making you giggle.

“Right. Yes. Okay.” He nods and quickly makes his way to the stairs. There’s quiet mumbling before Veronica appears by his side in the doorway of the kitchen, both of them with sweet smiles as they look at your mom.

“Hi, Mrs Andrews.” Veronica waves. “Hey Y/n. Did you find your bag?”

“Yeah. It was in a bin.” You shrug and they all look at you.

“Honey, why would someone do that? Do you want me to call the school?”

“Its fine mom.” You shake your head. “Its just Cheryl and her friends.”

“Well we should talk to someone. They can’t go around putting people’s belongings in the bin. The law clearly state-”

“Mom.” You interrupt her as you sit at the table. “Its fine. She was actually very sorry about it.”

“What!?!” Both Veronica and Archie’s jaws drop while they look at you wide-eyed.

“Cheryl was sorry?” Veronica asks in disbelief.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “She helped me look for it.”

“Yeah. I don’t believe that in the slightest.” She replies.

“Definitely. She’s got something planned. And its big.” Archie agrees.

“Or she could just be being nice. That does actually happen you know.” You reply and he laughs sarcastically.

“Yeah, I don’t think she knows how to be nice. Why are you even defending her? Earlier today you asked if she would ever stop being a bitch.”

“Archie! Language!” Your mom scolds and the two of your roll your eyes.

“That was before I had an actual conversation with her instead of insulting her. Which is what you do.”

“I don’t insult her, Veronica insults her.” He replies.

“Archie!” Veronica slaps him arm lightly and he mumbles a quick apology.

“Yeah, but you don’t do anything to stop the insults.”

“Neither do you.” He retorts and you cross your arms.

“Well, I’m doing it right now s-”

“Okay!” Your mom shouts instantly shutting everyone up. “Thats enough. We’re going to have a nice family dinner and we’re going to enjoy each others company. Now stop shouting at each other. And say sorry.”

It takes a few seconds and a lot of glares and huffs but eventually you say sorry to each other and Archie sits on the opposite side of the table of you, followed quickly by Veronica.

“Do you like Cheryl?” He mouths while your mom is plating up the food and when she isn’t looking you make sure to kick him under the table, earning a death glare from him.

“God no.” You huff, scrunching your face up which makes him laugh.

maybe a little

-----

“Here comes the she-devil.” Jughead mumbles quietly and you all look in the direction that he was nodding to. Cheryl is walking towards your table, with a look you’ve never really seen before. Not one thats directed at your friends anyway. She looks happy. A lot different to how you found her yesterday and you’re glad she’s not as sad, a smile really suits her.

“Oh god.” Veronica mumbles as she takes a sip from her drink. “Hey, did we tell you where she hid Y/n’s bag yesterday?” She asks, lowering her voice as Cheryl gets closer and Betty and Jughead shake their heads, leaning further towards her. “In the cafeteria bin.”

“Gross.” Betty scrunches her face up.

“Thats just unhygienic.” Jughead adds.

“You’re telling me.” Veronica replies. “Mrs Andrews had to wash it three times to get the smell of the soup out.”

“Ewww.” They laugh and you send them a quick glare before looking at Cheryl.

“Greetings fellow students.” Cheryl stops in front or your table and the laughter stops. You swear you can see a flicker of sadness flash through her eyes and you decide to quickly change the subject.

“Cheryl!” You smile brightly at her and the sadness you thought you saw disappears completely. Its not everyday that somebody has been this happy to see her and she decides to grab it with both hands.

All night she was up thinking about you, thinking about how she could have gone so long not noticing you, and how she needs to make sure everybody notices you. Everyone needs to know about you. Y/n Andrews, the girl who could take some of Cheryl Blossom’s sadness away, something that has never been done before.

“Hi Cheryl.” Betty greets her and she forces a polite smile to look at your friends, making it a little bigger as she looks at your brother.

“Hi.” She replies. “Can I sit?” She’s now looking back at you, pointing to the seat beside you and you nod, quickly moving down so she can sit beside you. Archie huffs as he’s pushed off the end of the table and he quickly grabs a seat so he can sit back down.

“Are you feeling any better today?” You voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as you ask her a question and she can’t help but fall a little more for you, because you didn’t shout her business, not like everybody else does. You made sure only she could hear you.

“Yeah.” She nods. “Much better. I still miss him, but it doesn’t hurt as much.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. “Anyway.” Your voice is louder and the quiet mumbles from your friends have stopped. “Can we help you with anything?”

“Yes actually! Y/n, how would you feel about joining the Vixens?” Her smile is warm and kind but the words that have just come from her lips make your bold run cold. Your friends look at each other before looking back at you and you can feel yourself getting hotter and hotter.

“I don’t know Cheryl.” You start, your voice nervous as you try and find the best way to let her down gently. She’s only started being nice to you but you’d rather stick forks in your eyes than be a cheerleader, not with them anyway. They’re mean and rude and they think they’re better than everyone...but you’re not going to say that to Cheryl, so instead you decide on something a little nicer. “It’s just not really my type of thing. Plus, I don’t think they really like me.”

“Can you imagine, Y/n as a cheerleader.” Archie chuckles making you and Cheryl roll your eyes.

“Whats wrong with being a cheerleader?” Cheryl asks and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, Archie. Or are you forgetting that your girlfriend is a Vixen?” You add and Cheryl sends you a small smile which makes your head feel a little fuzzy.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Vixen. But Y/n being a Vixen is just funny.”

“And why is that dear brother?” You raise an eyebrow and he gulps. He mumbles a quick ‘nothing’, before going back to eating.

“I really do think you should at least try-out. I think you’ll be great. Plus, if any of the girls say anything, which they won’t, they’ll have me to answer to.” She explains and you think about it for a minute. Would it be really bad to be part of the school’s cheerleading squad. The reasonable part of your brain is saying, more like screaming, yes its the worst idea in the world. But the slightly less reasonable and the slightly more gay part is screaming hell yeah. Surrounded by wonderful, smart if not slightly intimidating girls...plus, Cheryl!

“Fine.” You give in. “I’ll try out.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands excitedly before standing up and brushing her hair over her shoulder. The small gesture has you mesmerized and you have to force yourself to remember where you are in order to regain all your thoughts, the number one being, ‘what the hell was that about?’ “I’ll see you after school! Goodbye Y/n.” She waves at you before starting to walk away and its only when Betty clears her throat that she turns around again to wave everybody else off.

Your brother decides to wait until she’s out of earshot until he starts talking again, and the first thing he says is something that doesn’t really surprise you.

“Y/n and Cheryl, kissing in a tree.” He teases, making a kissy face and you throw a handful of food at him. The rest of your friends let out the laughter they’ve been holding in and you roll your eyes so hard you swear they’re going to fall out.

“How old are you?” You huff.

“Old enough to see that Cheryl fancies you.”

“Shut up!”

-----

Cheryl didn’t just fancy you.

She liked you.

Actually she was head over heels, doodling your initials in a heart, mind goes fuzzy anytime she sees you, in love with you.

And you? Well, you were none the wiser.

You just thought she was being friendly. Maybe more than the average person but Cheryl hasn’t had many close friends so maybe this is the only way she knows how to keep them.

She’s holding your hand? She just wants to make sure you know you’re not alone. Her hugs are a bit longer than normal? Come on, the girl deserves a long hug. She always finds a way to include you in conversation? She’s just being sweet.

Yes, Cheryl Blossom was becoming a slightly more bearable person, and it only seemed to happen when you were around. Leaving everyone to have their own conspiracies.

Archie’s was of course that she was in love with you. “Yeah right. Like that would happen Archie.”

Veronica’s was that it was one long prank to get back at everyone who’d hurt her. “Veronica, thats just sociopathic.”

Betty’s was slightly less weird, that she probably just wants to make a friend and so she’s being overly nice to fool people into thinking she hasn’t got a heart made of ice. “Thats just mean.”

And Jughead’s was that she’d either been possessed by a poltergeist. “Aren’t they supposed to be mean?” Or, that she’d been taken over by aliens. “I think they’d have better things to do than make Cheryl nice.”

Plus there was all of the other ridiculous rumors flying around school, but she either seemed to not hear or just ignore them.

“Y/n. Are you even listening to me?” You’re pulled back down to earth by Cheryl waving her hands in front of your face.

“What? Yeah. Huh?” You ask and she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I was talking you through the routine for Friday. You know the whole reason why we’re in the gym after school.”

“Yes. Yes. I remember.” You stand and she shakes her head, despite the smile thats threatening to ruin her facade.

“Okay.” She stands beside you. “Are you watching?” She asks and glances at you, a smile making its way onto her face as she watches you go over the steps in your head. Your frowning slightly at you try to remember the steps and she can’t help but giggle a little as your arms start to move to.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “Ready?”

“Ye-”

“Good.” She nods. The music starts and she begins to go through the steps, you following a step behind her. However half way through you get distracted by the way she’s moving and then it hits you.

I’m in love with with Cheryl Blossom.

“Shit.” You mumble and she turns around quickly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I erm. I just got a bit distracted. Sorry.”

“Its fine.” She smiles brightly. “Lets go again, I’ll help you this time.”

“You’re already helping me.” You reply and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll help you even more.” She hits your arm lightly and your heart goes hay-wire at the small interaction. “Stand there.” You do as she says and the next thing you know she’s stood behind you were her hands on your hips.

“Wha-at, are you doing?” You stutter, your breathing getting quicker with each second. Her perfume is suffocating you, but in the best way and her breath is hot on your neck as she leans over you a little.

“He-helping.” She replies, also stuttering a bit and your swear you hear her breath hitch when you move your head to look at her. Your lips are millimeters away from hers, and if you leaned in just a little more you’d be kissing her, something you really want to do right now. You wonder what her lips would feel like against yours, how soft they’d be and if her lipstick would stain you, forever leaving a mark on you. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes flicker up to meet hers and it feels like she’s staring directly into your soul.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.” You reply and within seconds her lips are on yours, her hands gripping your waist tightly to turn you around. What you thought kissing Cheryl would be like, and actually kissing Cheryl, are completely different. Her lips are softer than you could ever imagine. Her lipstick tastes like cherries with a hint of maple syrup and you don’t think pancakes are ever going to taste the same again.

You both pull away, a bright blush on both of your faces and she giggles a little as she wipes the lipstick from the side of your face. But it doesn’t matter, she left a mark on you that day behind the bleachers, and you don’t think you’re ever going to be the same again...not that you’d really want to be.

#cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x you #cheryl blossom x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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zeta-in-de-walls · 5 years ago

Text

Hey guys. So in MCC you might have noticed that Dream got a little salty. This was a shame for me as it’s so much nicer to watch Dream whilst he’s in a good mood. For better or worse though, he’s super competitive.

Here’s a breakdown of how the event went badly for Dream and his team. It’s pretty long...

The event starts well; Skyblockle is an interesting, if stressful game, and they do pretty well for their first time. Not perfectly though and they recognise they could do better too - Dream’s already pretty hard on himself for any mistakes he makes. But it’s purely directed at himself and how he can improve - I think it’s pretty evident he holds himself to a high standard.

Bingo is next and he kinda doesn’t know what he’d doing and wastes some time. I feel like he notes it down too much to not knowing the game but it is pretty luck-based anyway. Also this was a really quick game as so many of the items were very easy to obtain in a very short time. Anyway, they didn’t expect to do well really and Dream’s in good spirits, looking forward to the other games.

Then Battle box comes... and it’s extremely laggy and even glitchy. The weapon choices of Wooden axes and tnt seem honestly pretty bad just in terms of gameplay and the tnt is outright gamebreaking with the lag. Despite this, Dream’s team is doing well, having won their first 4 games and they’re keen to win more. Dream’s even instructing Sylveey to wait on the wool in order to maximise kill points (you can see he’s taking this really seriously as he could sound a little nicer as she’s certainly trying to win too).

Anyway, the game needs to be restarted - some players killed themselves outside the rounds and that’s not exactly fair. For whatever reason, reviving them is not possible. The chosen solution is to restart the entire round which regretfully seriously inconveniences Dream’s team. He’s incensed at the perceived injustices. He feels that it would be better to push on without restarting.

The proceeding rounds don’t go nearly as well for them as the first play through. Many teams have now realised how effective rushing strats are for this map - the axe is too slow in pvp to meaningfully stop players from quickly placing down wool and the tnt is dangerous enough to scare people from the centre. It’s a legitimate strategy but feels rather unlike the traditional battle box which is usually the closest minigame to a straightforward pvp battle. While the lag is universal, it rather this strategy which goes against purple’s playstyle which includes maximised kills. Additionally, restarting gave a lot of teams the change to realise the potential of this rather cheap strategy which they may not have with only a single round of battle box as it would have been without the lag.

It’s not really anyone’s fault that the game messed up but Dream’s ire is now directed towards the organisers and he’s lost his good spirits.

Buildmart comes next and it’s not exactly one of Dream’s favourite games to say the least. Still, it’s long and a nice distraction from the mess that was battle box and Dream has developed some strategy with his team, even if it didn’t really work amazingly.

But then comes the audience takeover. Dream was really looking for parkour warrior - which he’s been really keen to play. He’s extremely fond of parkour and wanted to try out the new course - he and his whole team had practiced the old course a lot and were ready to crush the game. But it wasn’t one of the the options in the poll at all. Up to this point Parkour warrior hasn’t been an option at all and it is one the team has every reason to want to play.

Regardless, they soon settle on Hole in the wall - a gamemode they’ve played before and enjoyed. And yeah, the system messes up. Rocket spleef, which was Technoblade’s choice, narrowly lost the poll but gets selected anyway due to faultiness from the twitter poll. Needless to say, Dream is pretty annoyed. Given how the resetted Battle box earlier, he is of the opinion that they should switch in to Hole in the Wall to accurately reflect the audience vote. What he doesn’t realise is that this isn’t possible and the situation is less similar to battle box which only reset itself, not the game choice.

This is where Dream gets outright angry, even going as far to say he feels like quitting entirely. He feels like the tournament is working against him, which it kinda is, though it’s not in fact due to human design - just errors outside anyone’s control. That said, compounded with the mess that was Battle box earlier, Dream’s in a terrible mood, especially with his competitive nature, feeling like he’s losing due to circumstances outside his control rather than his own abilities. (When fans are saying rigged, I feel like many of them simply mean that the game’s working against him rather than that someone is actively sabotaging them (an incorrect definition...). It’s a minority that kicked up a large fuss as well, not that this excuses them or anything, or Dream for not realising the effect he’s having on his audience.)

His heart is simply not in Rocket Spleef, which seems to be a pretty tough game for newcomers to pick up anyway, while the other top teams, Orange and Green, both excel at this game mode. (And Krimson too maybe? I think I missed how they were doing in this game.) It’s a shame as he can’t allow himself to enjoy the game mode at all. It is an interesting one that he’s not amazing at but isn’t terrible at either, managing to survive longer than the rest of his team, who are all also doing lacklustre. Their performance has not been helped by everything that’s going on.

Then there’s ace race. It’s a new game and pretty different from the standard minecraft experience. It’s the first time for everyone so there’s probably a few kinks to be worked out etc. and Dream and his team find it interesting but they don’t exactly love it. It’s very different from the standard minecraft experience. Their strongpoints are definitely vanilla minecraft and they’re not too confident with elytras. I feel like if they weren’t in a dour mood they would have enjoyed it tons more. Two elytra heavy games in a row is unfortunate. Still, this game acts as a breather. The one issue is that parkour warrior is finally on the board and so they’re very keen to play it.

As the next decision dome comes up, Parkour warrior, Hole in the Wall, TGTTOS, Survival Games and Sands of time are all available. These are all probably Dream’s favourite games aside from Battle box (which obviously didn’t work out this tournament). Dream notes beforehand that the one game he’d really like to play is Parkour Warrior and the one he’d prefer to avoid at this stage is Sands of Time.

So naturally, Sands of Time is chosen. He’s a bit irritated. Fortunately, Sands of Time is awesome and his team is great at it. Single player survival stuff is what they excel at after all and they all perform. They take risks, make a lot of coins, get far and are among the longest teams to stay in, coming in second overall with both Dream and Sapnap doing really well. This game proves to be what finally cures Dream and his team’s mood. The game is also worth a ton of points for some reason, putting them in with a (still small but possible) chance of making the finals.

Last game and they really want Parkour warrior of course. Yeah, it’s not chosen. Instead we get hole in the wall. Some may joke that its good that the game finally got chosen but it’s obviously not the favoured choice for this team when Parkour warrior’s an option. Oh well though! They’re disappointed to miss out on it but they do like hole in the wall and they all have fun playing it, doing decently though not nearly well enough to do better than their rivals.

By this time they’ve regained their spirits and eagerly support Green Guardians in dodgebolt. It’s an intense match and they all thoroughly enjoy watching it, especially seeing Pete team clutch out the win after being down.

At the end, Dream finds that despite everything he’s still somehow managed to obtain 3rd overall on the individual boards, the same as last time, and he’s really happy about it. His team are pretty happy too with Sapnap also managing to get 8th place in his very first event.

Dream closes off the stream with an apology. You can see as it goes on how the frustration slowly melts away as he begins talking. At first still obviously still annoyed but soon confessing that he seriously overreacted and that he still loves the event and the team behind it and holds them to a very high standard. He offers kind words towards Technoblade and Pete too, noting that the rivalry is for show and he greatly respects both of them and encourages all his watchers to go and subscribe to them, helping Technoblade to hit 2mil. He notes that he’s really competitive and he really wanted it to go well - especially as its the only time he’ll be allowed to play with George and Sapnap and really wanted to win it with them. His sentiments feel real and he expresses interest in playing again while noting that he could see them also not inviting him back after his behaviour during this even and understands that.

Overall, game choices and unfortunate circumstances worked against Dream and his team and left him in a bad mood but once it ended, he did bounce back. It’s easy to see the contrast from the last event where he was annoyed he didn’t win but blamed his own performance - not the event and not his teammates - reflecting on how he can improve and do better. (He got temporarily a little annoyed at buildmart admittedly but it was purely his fans who blew that out of proportion, he quickly reassured George that it was okay and that it wasn’t his fault.) Dream is always very determined to improve and succeed or fail due to his own skills.

This turned into a long analysis of the event, wow. Dream’s perspective wasn’t that much fun to watch and it pains me to see how it all devolved. Let’s calm down and try not to blame the event, the other competitors or Dream too hard for any of this, okay? Things went wrong and it’s mostly outside of anyone’s control. I hope he’s in better spirits if he joins next tournament.

#dreamwastaken #sorry this was so long!#i guess I had to analyse the whole event #a summary of it from dream's perspective i guess #apparently techno's viewpoint was far more entertaining #this one left me feeling bitter at least until sands of time #his talk with techno afterwards was great though #best part of the event for me #post-end i know #i look forward to the upcoming manhunt and collabs #the dangers of tryharding #and the issues with having a large fanbase #i think he forgot he wasn't just talking to his friends #analysis

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himikiyo · 4 years ago

Text

beautiful birthday // himikiyo week day 5

Himikiyo Week Day 5: Date night + Lazy morning

"Good morning," Kiyo mumbled, managing to make grogginess sound elegant. Their eyes opened slowly, lashes fluttering and still smudged with last night's makeup.

It's a few days after Himiko's birthday, and until the party that evening, they have absolutely nowhere to be.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Sunlight leaked through the gauzy curtains, making Himiko stir with a little whine of protest as she buried her face in the warmth of Kiyo's neck. The curtains were one of the rare splashes of pink in their room — frilly and speckled with a pale floral pattern that wouldn't look out of place in the room of someone much younger. They started off as a joke of sorts, a source of shared amusement between them. There weren't many options at the store when they went shopping their first year. Himiko was at one end of the aisle, looking at something she could no longer remember, when Korekiyo tapped her on the shoulder and showed her the curtains.

She really thought they were joking at first, her intimidating, goth roommate holding flowery pink curtains, but they weren't.

"Really, I'm serious," they said, seeming to frown behind their mask. "Maybe they're a little...out there, but I never would have been allowed to have anything like this in my room as a child. Isn't one of the good things about dorm life getting to be more independent and branch out a little?"

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied. "Sure, I don't mind them."

And so the curtains were theirs and remained so. Friends poked fun at them once in a while, but it was all good natured, and the two of them rarely had company in their dorm anyway. It felt nicer to keep that as a private place, somewhere safe to escape to. There was no shortage of others willing to offer their living spaces up for socializing. Neither of them always did much socializing either, for that matter. They had a small group of friends, but were just as happy to hang out with just each other.

An odd couple, their RA joked at first. It was just a turn of phrase back then, 'couple' in the sense of friends or roommates. Now though, they really were a couple, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Good morning," Kiyo mumbled, managing to make grogginess sound elegant. Their eyes opened slowly, lashes fluttering and still smudged with last night's makeup. It was rare for them to be too tired or careless to skip taking it off before bed, and Himiko savored the imperfection of it. She smiled as she looked at their sleepy face, a stripe of sunlight cutting right across the bridge of their nose — the brightness was probably what woke them up. The sharp jut of their hipbone was digging into her own, but she didn't mind it. She was long since used to all their edges, the way every inch of them fit against her.

"Morning," she replied. "How'd you sleep? Good?"

"Excellent."

She grinned, close enough to ghost kisses over their cheek. "I'd hope so with how early you passed out last night. Finishing that paper must've been tiring."

"Yes," Kiyo agreed, slow and measured, like that wasn't quite right. Sure enough, they had more to say. "But that wasn't the only reason. I also wanted to be fresh for your party today. And more importantly, I wanted you to be fresh. I knew you wouldn't go to sleep early if I was still awake."

It was impossible to hide her smile, not that she'd want to anyway.

"You know me too well," she admitted. "It'd be kinda scary sometimes if I didn't love you so much." Someone down the hall must have burned popcorn; she could smell it even through the closed door. Not bad enough to set the fire alarm off though, or it would already be blaring. So it was okay. Just the smell wasn't anywhere near enough to ruin this perfect morning.

"I love you more." Serious as always, they raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to disagree. In retaliation for that daring claim, she gently nudged them over onto their back and moved to drape herself on top of them, close enough to feel the rise and fall of their chest with each breath.

"Do not. I love you most." It was a childish argument of the sort they never tired of. Maybe verging on saccharine to outsiders, but what did that matter in private? They'd both been through more than enough sadness in their lives. It hardly seemed unreasonable to want to make each other as happy as they possibly could.

"Impossible." The slight, still-sleepy rasp to Kiyo's voice made her shiver pleasantly, something they noticed if the hand trailing along her spine was any indication. "You're awfully stubborn, Himi-chan."

"Maybe. You like me that way though."

"I do. Very much. If you're lucky, maybe I'll show you later."

"Later if I'm lucky, huh? Well, what are we doing now then instead?" She stifled a yawn, something that threatened to mix with a giggle in her throat. "Better hurry up and decide before I fall asleep again."

"Brunch?" they offered, still rubbing her back. "You'll have to help me pick out an outfit first." Ever the fashionable one. Most college students would be fine in sweatpants and a t-shirt for shambling to the dining hall on a weekend morning, but not Korekiyo. Any public outing required looking impeccable, and despite how lacking her own skills were in comparison, they always welcomed her input when she was in the mood to give it. She'd been there with them for lots of milestones, fashion-related and otherwise. Their skirts and dresses had sat unworn in their closet until she mentioned how pretty they looked in them, back before they were even dating.

"Of course, as long as you help me with mine too. Otherwise I might be tempted to just go in pajamas and embarrass you."

"You could never embarrass me by being yourself, my dear. But yes, I'll help you." Korekiyo punctuated that with an amused kiss, their words sweet but not sweet enough to try denying that some level of laziness was simply who she was.

Even with their encouragement, it was something of a battle to drag herself out of bed, as usual. But with no strict timetable on how quick they needed to get ready aside from their own hunger, she could manage, gently pushed along by the occasional cajoling from Kiyo as they got ready.

The world outside the covers was cold, as one would expect from early December. That helped guide her choices once it was time to stand in front of their closet, looking through the clothes hanging there. They got cold even more easily than her, so winter usually meant lots of layers, thick sweaters and jackets, all of which they made look amazing. Himiko’s hand ran over a soft, dark green cable knit, thinking for a moment before grabbing its hanger and pulling it out of the closet.

“How about this one?” she offered, glancing over her shoulder at them. “You wanted to try out that green eyeliner you got the other day, right? It’d match.”

“Yes, you’re right. I think that would be nice,” they said as they came up behind her.

It met their approval easily then, not that she expected anything different. Of course, the arms around her waist and the kisses on the back of her neck weren’t necessary for them to take the sweater from her, but Himiko certainly wasn’t complaining. They did birthday pampering well, treating her extra sweetly even now that the day itself had come and gone. And of course, she was careful to do the same each summer for theirs, just as they deserved.

“You keep distracting me,” she whined, clearly not serious about her complaints. “You’re the one who wants to go to the dining hall.”

“It’s not my fault it’s so easy.”

After the arms retreated from around her, she heard the soft rustling noises of clothing hitting the floor. Not exactly anything unfamiliar given how long they’d been dating, and the even longer amount of time spent living in such close proximity to each other. She rolled her eyes in amusement, not turning around.

“I’m not that easily distracted, you know.”

“I have no idea what you might be implying, Yumeno-san,” Korekiyo said, laying on the feigned seriousness and formality thick. She could envision their expression without so much as a glance. “That is, as the youth say, ‘kinda gay.’”

She just snorted, throwing their clean clothes over her shoulder at them.

“Says the second gayest person I know. Get dressed, you big lesbian. I want pancakes.”

When they finally did get to the dining hall, brunch was well worth the effort of getting out of bed and going out into the cold, late-morning air. They were able to snag their favorite table, tucked away in a corner by the windows. The sun streamed in just right, making the place look a little cheerier as they ate. The comfortable banter between them came and went throughout the meal, neither of them overly concerned about it. Chatter and silence were both equally comfortable.

Later, they’d be getting together with their eclectic group of friends for a belated birthday party. That would be fun too, she knew. Opening gifts, playing games, eating Kirumi’s amazing cooking, even watching the chaos from some of the more unpredictable ones among them. She was lucky to have so many people who cared about her.

It was all wonderful, and she was always careful to express her gratitude. But honestly, lazy mornings like this with Korekiyo were the best of all. They fit together so comfortably she could no longer imagine being without them, and she hoped she’d never have to.

She hadn’t told them, not wanting to spoil what was surely intended to be a surprise, but she knew about the ring box stashed in the back of a drawer.

Heart light, she reached over to steal a strawberry from their plate, giggling at their faked attempt to stop her. Being with them was the best birthday present of all.

#himikiyo #himikiyoweek2020 #korekiyo shinguji #himiko yumeno #dr #danganronpa #drv3 #m

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goodgodbean · 5 years ago

Text

East To West - Calum Hood

Hey guys! This is part 3 of East to West (a semi-soulmate au??). I got a message earlier from anonymous (not the hacktivist group) about my story and it was just so cute!! Thank you to the person who sent me that! It’s posted on my blog if you guys were curious for whatever reason! Hope you guys enjoy!

+++

Masterlist

Part 1 + Part 2 + Part 4

+++

Part 3. Uranus

The yellow-tinted world bustled outside the shop window. Everybody brushing each other as they rush along the sidewalks of New York City. Becca pulls off the ridiculous yellow sun glasses that did nothing against the sun outside. She places them back on the rack, killing time in the small consignment shop. She browses the other options, vaguely aware of the attendants behind the counter.

Grace chats to her co-worker leisurely about something that happened while on her shift. She slides her eyes across the store, scanning for customers, before landing on Becca. Quickly she finishes the conversation, grabbing her bag and making her way to Becca. She rounds the sunglass pillar and raises her eyebrows at Becca.

“Thought I saw you lurking.” Grace’s lips quirk up, obviously pleased with her line that she no doubt spent way too long thinking about. She beings to examine the sunglass pillar next to her best friend.

“Sorry, it was an emergency,” Becca says, examining another pair. “What do you think?” She perches the glasses on her nose.

“Not your color. What’s the emergency?” Becca takes them off and pouts down at the bright purple cat-eye glasses in her hands.

She turns them over, looking at the nose bridge and arms of the glasses. “I thought they were cute…” She says, almost absentmindedly.

“They are - just not your color. Try this?” Grace gently picks another pair off the rack and hands them to Becca, pealing the purple ones out of her grip. Becca places Grace’s choice on her face and poses a little, and Grace nods in appreciation at her work.

Becca turns to look at herself in the tiny mirror hanging off the side of the pillar, “Do you remember that drawing I got?” She examines herself at another angle. They look stylish, but a little too big for Becca’s face.

“Which one?” Grace asks, leaning on a table behind the mirror. Becca looks up from the mirror to Grace, her face still hidden behind the glasses.

Becca slid the glasses off, and places them back on the pillar. “The soulmate one.” Becca makes eye contact with Grace who nods. “There’s evidence to suggest he’s looking for me too.”

“I’m sorry what?” Grace stumbles back as if she had just been hit. Complete shock covers her face, her eyebrows are in her hairline and her mouth in a perfect O shape. She lets out little half-laugh as if she was expecting it to be a joke. Becca looks to the register where Grace’s coworker was looking at them with curious eyes.

“Let’s walk and talk.”

Grace is the only one who knows. Only one knows about what Becca had done all those years ago. It had come out when they were at her house day-drinking. They had both had a terrible week and the next two days off, so the bottles came out. It was while playing a drinking game to the movie, The Notebook, that the truth came out. The insanity of the truth. Becca had paid 30 dollars for a psychic to draw Calum Hood and pretend that it was her soulmate. They had laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. How the psychic must’ve drawn famous people for everybody to make a profit. How in any sense of the word could Calum Hood be Becca Wood’s soulmate? Impossible.

The only other time after that night that they mentioned it was when Grace asked her the next morning about it. She asked if it was some surreal dream that she conjured up. While hungover, Becca explained it all and that she NEVER wanted to talk about it again.

“Start from the beginning,” Grace’s eyes were always so telling. Becca would always know when she's lying or hiding something by the look in her eye, a certain gleam that’s unexplainable. Now, Grace’s eyes are expressing concern.

“I got a call from Benny,” Becca begins retelling the story. About how she didn’t even hear him the first time. How he couldn’t have known about her copy. That she was so shocked she left her roommate in the kitchen staring after her. What does she do now?

“Oh, wow. Well…um?” Grace, at a loss for words, babbles whatever will come out in that moment. Grace swallows whatever filler words were about to come out next before saying, “what do you want to do?”

“I mean, Benny couldn’t have known about the photo,” Becca reasoned, “I never showed it to him and the copy is hidden.”

“He was in your room a lot… I mean you guys dated! He could’ve snooped and found it,” Grace reasons.

“He just wasn’t like that. We weren’t like that. Even if he did find it, it’s just a picture of one of a famous band’s members. Probably didn’t think anything of it,” Becca says, thinking aloud.

The girls turn right, heading towards Grace’s apartment. The sidewalks here cleared a little, since the street was all residential buildings. The girls quiet for a minute, walking briskly across the sidewalk.

“I think you should call Benny back,” Grace whispers. It was quiet, almost inaudible, but Becca heard it loud and clear.

The don’t talk for the rest of the walk, instead living in their own heads until they pass the last few blocks and up to Grace’s apartment. Her apartment is notably newer and in a nicer neighborhood, but she has three roommates. The apartment always seems crowded to Becca. The four of them and all their possessions littering around, made the space shrink. The girls go to Grace’s room and sit on her bed, to pretend that they have privacy in the too-thin walls.

A heavy breath from both of them before Becca asks “Do you mind if I call him now?” She barely looks at Grace. She knows that if she doesn’t do it now with Grace, she may never gather the courage again.

“I’ll be here for you,” Grace responds, knowingly.

Becca dials on her cell and puts it on speaker.

Less than a week. It took less than a week for Calum to hear back from the Private Investigator. She’s real. She’s so real that when Calum pressed for information, the P.I. stumbled and admitted it was a friend’s friend that he’s never met. But god, is she real. She’s real.

She’s real.

Two words that echo like a song across his mind. He sings them quietly to himself in his minimalistic house on the hills. He screams them against the chaos of sound in his apartment. He whispers them in the shower and cries them in the dark. She’s real.

Her name is Rebecca Woods, but the P.I.’s friend, only referenced her as Becca. He talked to the boy, Benny, on the phone when he got the call from the P.I.. When hearing that she was a friend of Benny, Calum demanded to talk to him. He couldn’t help but command it of the P.I., but he just needed to know she’s real. That someone out there knows her.

She knows he exists too. Benny told Calum about when he saw the drawing, he was so shocked. The next moment he could, Benny called her, and explained everything. He asked Becca if he could tell them about her. She eventually said yes and admitted to having a picture of him from a psychic too.

She has a picture of him.

It shouldn’t feel so fulfilling knowing that. Thousands of girls have pictures of him. They are only a quick search away on the internet. But god, knowing that Becca had a picture of him from 2 years ago made him cry all over again. She’s real. She’s real. She’s real.

Calum didn't want to know anything about her really. But he did get a phone number and an address.

7 small digits that line across his lids every time he blinks. 7 numbers that seemed so holy that he would kneel and pray to them.

Maybe he wouldn’t be lonely anymore.

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minecraftoworymode · 4 years ago

Note

💕✨🎥

this ended up getting longer than i expected so it’s a-goin under a cut babeyyyy

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

favourite as in ‘well-written’ or favourite as in ‘i love them’? shhh. one of many Cube that live in my heart, Rent Free:

i mean the easy way out would be to just talk about any of the three characters i’m gay for so i’m going to NOT do that and instead pick someone else. gimme a second to spin the wheel brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr JACK

So there’s this senior citizen .. no but seriously i have a lot of fondness and admiration for the guy! it’s not easy to keep going on when one or more of your friends is/are dead (to the best of your knowledge) but he not only did that but also got himself a husband like, you go king! he’s like, not a capital-H Hero like jesse is, but he’s still pretty darn epic :’)

✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it?

good questions! for the first part, honestly at this point i’ve just put so much thought into it that escaping from the event horizon is no longer possible. i am spaghettifying as we speak. i’ve mantled someone from it, man!- which was perhaps inevitable given the nature of the game.

(this is already just me rambling to myself but i’ll still ask you forgive me the philosophizing hgldfhglkdfh) i wonder if the swiss cheese-like nature of mcsm has actually led me to devote more time and effort to it than perhaps i might’ve something that was more ‘whole’. “Because unoccupied spaces, in our imaginations, must find something to fill them.”, says this interview (albeit about a completely different topic)- and mcsm is FULL (ironically) of emptiness, plot holes, unanswered questions. ergo: prime real estate for resolution. i like the sense of resolution. i like the act of creating. i guess mcsm is actually quite like its inspiration, in that way- a sandbox, a garden, a “take this and go and play”. though it’s not such an open invitation as that, so it’s maybe more “i am going to take this and go play.”

as for the second half, specifically speaking: the witherstorm and PAMA! the old builders are a cool concept, like the other two, but lack the depth that would make them more than just an honorary mention of an interesting idea.

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

YES there is a part in s1 e...3? e2? where before meeting soren jesse can talk to reuben and- hold on let me see if i can upload my clip of it

youtube

What is this???!?!?!? of course there’s the possibility that jesse is just humouring reuben/pretending that reuben’s saying stuff when really he isn’t, but i prefer the interpretation where no, jesse and reuben are able to communicate in such a complex fashion that they can tell each other jokes that are ‘a little risqué’. it’s so utterly funny i crack up jsu thtiking about it

also from that episode i really love soren’s little song and dance and i think it’s unforgivable that there was no option to let him finish, especially since i think a lot of the fandom would’ve been goddamn nicer to him. let him finish!!

#msg

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edorazzi · 6 years ago

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Well, here we are again! Twitter said yes to a review post for a Miraculous magazine that suddenly showed up in my local area. ‘Tis the season after all, and by that I mean someone bought it for me as a joke birthday gift and I was way too happy about that.

I’ve done previous reviews of the Miraculous Christmas calendar, Easter egg set, superhero fashion dolls and action figures, so let’s dive into the unknown world of merchandising yet again!

(As always, if you enjoy my posts, please consider checking out my Twitter page or supporting me on Patreon for lots of bonus content!)

4 FREE GIFTS! PACKED WITH ACTIVITIES! MEET THE KWAMIS! PRANKS & LOLS! CUT-OUT MEMES! FANGIRL ALERT! NAIL ART! 100% OFFICIAL! I’m overwhelmed! It feels like I’m having a seizure just from the packaging!!!

I should preface this by saying I haven’t bought a magazine like this in years. Possibly ever. I read things like the Beano, Animals & You and the odd Disney Princess zine when I was a kid but I have no idea what to expect from a free-gift-packed kiddie magazine in 2019. If the outside is anything to go by we’re in for a wild ride.

I’m noticing that it says “Miraculous #20″ on the back. Does this mean I’ve missed 19 previous issues? I’m genuinely a little upset by that. My local area is a complete dry zone for Miraculous so I haven’t had the chance to pick these up.

First step: let’s separate everything out and get a look at these freeeee giftssss. Except they aren’t free, because this magazine was like £3.99. This does seem to be the current trend - it’s kinda rare to see any kids’ zines without the excess packaging crammed with ‘free’ stuff. Is it really too expensive to just produce the magazine? Probably, in this economy.

Chat Noir is revealed on the cover! He was on the back of the plastic jacket, but it’s still nice to see the kids as a front-cover duo. Apparently we’re going to learn to draw Pollen, too, which sounds fun. I’m actually liking the look of the gifts as well, but we’ll get into those in a minute.

This hairbrush............. is adorable. Oh my god. It’s pretty cheap and flimsy but it functions the way it’s supposed to, and the Ladybug design has been taken into account in a better way than “it’s red/black, that counts” (lest we forget the UTTER BULLSHIT of the Christmas calendar, and YES I’m still mad about that). I don’t know how well I expect the outer sticker to last, but if it can take a bit of wear and tear this would be an adorable little travel brush. Nicely done, lads!

These nail stickers? Also adorable. They remind me of the kiddie makeup sets I had when I was little, back in the early 00s when plastic stick-on nails and decals were all the rage. Are they still a thing? That’s nice to know.

There are 13 designs (that I can count) - a Queen Bee mask, Chat Noir pawprint cake, macaron, cupcake, heart-print cookie, Ladybug stud, flower, lightning bolt, love heart, Marinette heart, bee, fox tail and star. The majority are directly related to the show and that makes them feel special. No Carapace though? :(

I’ve put a little Marinette heart on my furthest finger. At the time of typing this up (about a day later) it’s still firmly in place. I haven’t really knocked it around, granted, but it’s not flimsy enough to fall off after five minutes either. It’s also really cute to look at. Guess I’m still a decal-loving 2004 girl at heart......

These stickers though!!! Wow! They’re those holographic and slightly-puffy kind and they feel like pretty good quality, and the designs are so cute! I can’t fault these, they’re absolutely adorable. I immediately want to stick them everywhere.

So I’ve stuck them everywhere. I’m especially proud of the light switch pun. My room looks GREAT.

I saved these “mystery stickers” for last because I’m weak for the thrill of mystery bags, and there wasn’t anything on the packaging to indicate what kind of designs to expect. And OH!!!! OH, IT’S MY BOY!!!! Look at him!!!!

I made jokes with the Christmas calendar about all the Chat Noir items being stolen ahead of time, but that’s definitely NOT the case with this magazine. I have been SPOILED with the presence of my cat son.

These stickers are similar to the sticker sheet (and the Chillin’ Out design is reprinted), but they’re puffier and non-holographic. I’m deeply allured by the “decorate your phone or tablet” suggestion on the packet, but I’m going to see how the previous stickers withstand the wear-and-tear of my laptop lid before adding any more. If I damage these beautiful Adrien stickers I’ll be devastated.

Those are our free gifts! They’re actually very fun and cute, I’m really happy with them! I guess now it’s time to get into the magazine itself...........

I genuinely almost forgot the magazine was the main part of this package. I figured I was done, but we’ve barely even started! Here’s a splash page of the kwami. Kwami with a capital K? Kwamis? I still feel like it should be singular-lower-case-k-kwami. I’ve never been happy about this “miraculouses” business either.

But is that--

It IS!!!! It’s Nino!!!

I guess this is the new flavour of Miraculous tie-ins. Now they’ve broadened out to a full team we’re seeing a lot more of Adrien alongside the girls, and Nino is the elusive hero who shows up once in a blue moon. At least this time his name isn’t in the title of the gotdam show.......

Anyway, I can see I’m supposed to draw my “fave Kwami”. Better get to it.

Felix just wants a break. Just one break. But not in this magazine.

Speaking of seeing more of Adrien (and, tragically, less of Nino), this is the kind of splash page I want to see! Both kids are here! The banner themed with Marinette’s signature flowers is a nice touch too; that’s associated with her arts ‘n’ crafts in the show already and it makes sense to apply it to the creative portion of this magazine too.

I LOVE the promotion of Chat Noir nails as something the little girls buying this magazine will definitely want to try. I’d expect them to do Marinette vs Ladybug nails, but instead we get a boyish option! Hell yeah!

I’m a little confused by the Queen Bee masks apparently going on the Chat Noir nails though. I guess they’re friends? Is this secret AdriChlo confirmation? Watch out, Marinette, Kagami’s not the one to be worried about.

SURE WOULD BE NICE TO HAVE SOME TURTLE STICKERS FOR AN ALL-BOYS THEME BUT I GUESS NOT HUH

Next up is a short merch catalogue (why would you put the big bold arrow pointing right to the underoos.....). Would those Chat Noir socks come in my size? Asking for me.

Then there’s......... this page. FANGIRL ALERT. God. It’s like the Ladyblog, if only the Ladyblog ever gave a heck about reporting what Chat Noir’s up to.

THE SPELL WAS BROKEN AND THE FANDOM IMPLODED WITH JOY.

I really have to wonder what age range this is meant for. Do kids know what a “fandom” is? Do little girls consider themselves “fangirls”? I guess most kids have enough internet access to figure it out these days (all the hashtags and LOLs and memes speak volumes), but I can’t imagine being young enough to fit the target range of this magazine while also knowing these terms. I dunno.

(Also, the definition of ‘implosion’ is ‘an instance of something collapsing violently inwards’, so I’m not sure that’s the word they’re looking for. Unless the return to the status quo in Dark Cupid and the continuing stagnation of the love square was enough to make people quit in frustration? Probably.)

I’m filling it in, of course. Because I must.

I gave up on the pre-approved ratings system pretty much right away, but I think this is an accurate rating of my LadyNoir opinions.

I might be kinda cynical about it here, but I am actually pretty fond of how this magazine sells Ladybug and Chat Noir as a couple. The show’s portraying it as very onesided lately, with Chat pining over Ladybug who has absolutely no interest in him (Glaciator was a TERRIBLE episode and I’m still hurting from it), but reading this zine I’d guess they were already dating. It’s cheesy, but in a nice way.

I have to laugh at “the most amazing thing about this super duo is that they always look out for and protect each other” though. Chat’s usually pretty focused on LB, sure, but there are endless instances of LB using Chat as cannon fodder and just generally abandoning him to get mauled by akuma while she carries out her personal private plan to save the day. Maybe we’re just focusing on the better-written episodes, huh?

Moving ahead. I’ve been dreading this page since reading “Plaggs Pranks & LOLs” on the back of the packaging. I feel hatred in my very bones just looking at it.

I like that there’s ONE instance of the term “ladybird” in the joke column. This is a UK-based magazine and that IS the word we tend to use over here - “ladybug” is an Americanism - but it’s like they’re worried kids could have got to the middle of this magazine about a superhero named Ladybug and then not understand the bug jokes. Maybe whoever was writing this page slipped up?

OH NOOOOO. MARINETTE, NOOOOOOOOOO.

THIS IS WHY FELIX GOT RID OF YOU, PLAGG. THESE ARE ADRIEN’S PROBLEMS NOW.

(mmm whatcha saaaaay)

I mean........... YEAH, I guess, but we absolutely did see Plagg destroy Felix with an entire shelf of heavy books. I guess he’s nicer with Adrien. It’s all fun and games until someone has a nervous breakdown in the library.

I do love the concept of Tikki getting glitter-bombed by Plagg through the mail. She just curiously opens up the little letter which got slipped into Marinette’s purse, and-- WOOSH. One entire wall of Mari’s room is glittery except for a little Tikki-shaped silhouette.

Next up is a two-page comic which is absolutely adorable! Look at those little chibis! The warm and soft colour palette! This is nicer than most of the official Miraculous comic book art I’ve seen, I hope they keep giving this artist work.

Nino’s here too (and he looks great!), and I like the touch of Marinette and Adrien playing as each other’s superhero characters. Adrien even wins the match, though I guess there’s something to be said about Ladybug beating Chat Noir (again)......

It does raise the question yet again of where this tie-in merchandise is coming from! They’ve had action figures, a movie, music video features, now an arcade game... Who’s getting the royalties here? Who’s profiting? Is this how Fu can afford to buy all those rare ingredients for the magic potions?

Over the page we have an activity to Design your Secret Lair! Right away I love the Marinette theme of the page, the soft pink and flowers, and the drawing space looking like a page in a binder with marker tabs and everything.

I have to design my secret lair, of course:

What do you think? I’m very creative. I’ll need an adult to send in the drawing of my hideout but I think I’ve really got a shot at those unicorn headphones.

Now we’re on to puzzles and character pages. I don’t know what ol’ Gabe is doing trying to meet a 13 year old girl in the dead of night without telling anyone, you’d think if he’s got that much free time on his hands he could be spending it with his son.

I don’t know how those points in Ladybug’s power profile are awarded or what they mean, but you can tell this is a fan magazine. Official sources would have put her at a 10.

Standard House of Villains page! Most of these were good episodes but I’m deeply offended Riposte isn’t on here. Maybe her motives weren’t dramatic and cartoonish enough to be up in the ranks with Glaciator and Gorizilla?

“Cat Noir’s dad is also the evil Hawk Moth”, huh? I mean that’s not WRONG, but is it really something to put in his power profile when Adrien doesn’t even know yet??? Feels like we’re kinda jumping the gun on the poor boy. What if he picks up this magazine?

Apparently he’s one point weaker than Ladybug (seriously???), two points faster, equally as agile, one point less skilled and two points less cool. Despite all those lesses he still comes out at an equal 9, which is a relief! These kids are a team, putting either of them below the other would have been a big no.

I did the colouring page too, naturally. Je suis un artiste.

Now we’ve got a page fresh from the Ladyblog, a Miraculous quiz! Not a lot of excitement, but it’s nice to see Alya getting her own section.

I like that the qualifications of “you could be Ladybug herself!” are knowing what city Marinette lives in and what school she goes to. Well done, Mari! You’re doing your best!!!

TEACHER I AM SO HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I gotta say, I’m not so sure about decorating donuts with fondant. I’ve never tried it so I could be wrong, but it feels like rolled icing instead of frosting(?) would be too heavy for an entire donut. The texture is totally different.

I mean I guess if you’re going to load your kids up on sugar you might as well go all the way. They’re going to look like they’ve eaten something horrible with all that black fondant, but they’ll have fun. Adrien would love these.

WHERE’S NINO. THIS IS JUST UNFAIR. You’ll have four out of five heroes, then a double of Marinette and Tikki? Maybe this just goes to show how little memorable dialogue Carapace has.

Though if “Spots On!” is Marinette’s dialogue and not Ladybug’s, why are the other transformation phrases attributed to Rena Rouge and Queen Bee instead of Alya and Chloé? Surely they could have picked something better for Marinette to justify having her on this list twice instead of Nino.

The next page brings us one of those flowchart quizzes! And ouch, yet again the absence of the other heroes is obvious. I can understand not including Chloé here since she’s technically not a “friendly” character yet, but no Nino? Alya and Marinette are close friends, but Adrien doesn’t really hang out with them without Nino around. Having the three of them together just seems strange.

I do like the little fashion page! They’re all cute and affordable and easy to find on the high street here. I’d love to see how other issues of this magazine are structured; is there a different fashion spot every time? Styles to channel each individual hero would be adorable.

Moving on to a tutorial for a Ladybug notebook! I would have made this, but I didn’t have the time nor a notebook to stick it to.

Between this and the donuts, it seems weird that these designs are based on, like... an actual beetle, eyes and antennae and all. Shouldn’t it be Ladybug’s symbol? These come across more like “fun animals” arts ‘n’ crafts instead of themed after Miraculous specifically. I think if I made this (or decorated the donuts) I’d miss out the head and match the spot pattern to Ladybug’s symbol.

The hidden message design is adorable though. I can see this being a craft kids are super proud of.

Another activity page! I didn’t have a go at these but they’re pretty standard. It’s cute that the coded message designs are the same as the stickers and nail decals!

Also, apparently Ladybug’s ‘secret’ is “LB mask + heart + CN mask”, which was (somehow) stolen by Volpina. Is that the secret Hawk Moth was talking about earlier in the magazine? Is he blackmailing Ladybug with revealing she has a crush on Chat Noir? How did Volpina ‘steal’ this secret? Is LadyNoir finally reciprocated???? THIS IS A WHOLE EPISODE IN ITSELF, I NEED ANSWERS--

Next page we have an ad for another girly magazine (Quizzes! LOLs! Celebs! Cringes! Puzzles!). I think I’ll pass, no matter how appealing that giant microphone pen is.

And a “Miraculous Identity” quiz! Tikki’s apparently super fickle with her wielders, three seasons of relentlessly praising Marinette and now she’s telling us we’re the Chosen Ones. You can’t fool me with those big ol’ eyes.

My inner superhero is Marvellous Fox, by the way. Though yet again I’m noticing we don’t have turtle options...................

And on the back cover... the memes. Oh, sweet lord, the memes. They’re hashtag-SoRelatable! And I can cut them out to keep! Oh boy!!!

Is this what kids do when they have limited internet access? Cut fresh memes out of magazines and carry them around? I need to know.

That’s a very sinister Ladybug at the bottom of the page though. What’s-- What’s she going to do to me if I don’t cut out and keep these memes. Ladybug what are you going to do if I d--

Well that brings us to the end of the magazine! And yet again I’m surprised by how much time it takes to just put a bunch of photos together and write about them.

This is a neat little magazine all in all! The ‘free gifts’ are pretty nice, there’s a fair amount of content and the whole thing is pretty cute for young fans of the show. I could see myself buying this again - if it ever shows up on shelves, Miraculous is so scarce around here that I fully expect it to disappear again after this one issue - just for the free junk, but it would be interesting to see how they’d structure different issues too!

I notice we never did get that promised tutorial on how to draw Pollen; the one advertised on the cover. Was the “draw your favourite Kwami” activity supposed to cover that? I’m not sure that really counts.

If you got this far, thanks for joining me on this Miraculous journey! We’ll meet again whenever I get another piece of weird ML merch to cover. Bien joué!

#miraculous ladybug #josie talks about things #josie's art #i really should get a review tag #ANYWAY there's a bit more art in this which isn't just the header image so give it a look!#and felix features a couple of times because WHY would he not on edorazzi dot com

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sometimeinjoon · 6 years ago

Text

Smiles

3.5k

Min Yoongi. Perpetual frowner. Scoffer.

Also the guy you’ve tried your sunny advances on, to no avail.

“Now, _____,” the instructor points at you from across the room. He’s half seated his butt on the teacher’s desk. “Tell us what you would say to the man that needed an ark in the story?”

Against better judgment, you answer without delay. “I Noah guy.”

And the Min Yoongi. The perpetual frowner. The scoffer.

Laughs.

He cracks a smile for a split second before he bursts out into a fit. An entire fit! Soon he’s got his eyes closed, leaning back on his chair, hands on his stomach like some major comedian just gave him the literal best he’s got.

And instead of getting angry and/or annoyed at the scene in front of him, the instructor starts laughing too. Giggling, mostly. But he’s also apparently surprised that the entire class is cricket silent spare the only guy that never laughs at his jokes despite his immediate need for recitation grades, let alone anyone else’s.

Yoongi recovers and you prepared to count the seconds before his face goes back to blank, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t! Yoongi looks at you with a thin lipped smile the entire time you spoke out your actual answer to the literary prof’s question. It made your heart soar, yes, but it was also unnerving. You’ve tried everything for him to notice you, to acknowledge you, and he’s never. What makes this time so special? It couldn’t be the pun, even though it obviously had to be. It was terrible!

You take it though. You take whatever sliver of attention thrown your way, like a deranged dog turning around and chasing after a stick his owner pretended to throw. You engrave this moment into your brain, planning to cherish it forever. Despite your huge crush on him, all the times you’ve tried to approach him had been shut down. Your mind was made that Yoongi just was not the one for you, but you’re young and you’re in no rush. Little moments that make you feel giddy, like when he accidentally brushes your shoulder and when he looks in your general direction are enough for you. So instead of moving on to liking someone that you actually had a shot with, you pine after Yoongi like a maniac.

An extremely tingly maniac, since you can feel Yoongi’s eyes at the back of your head. He’s a row behind you but a couple of seats away, so he doesn’t escape your peripheral when you angle your head to the right, slightly, pretending to be listening to the instructor. Maybe it was only your delusion and that he’s not actually looking at you, but you’re more than satisfied with yourself like that.

Next after literature came gym, and you curse whatever commission mandated sports to be part of your general education subjects in university. Though, there’s a really cute guy that spikes really well during volleyball and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he liked you. What was his name, Jungkook? He keeps looking at you after he scores, as if looking for affirmation. Like he’s saying “did you see that? Yes. I did that. I’m good at volleyball.”

You’re starting to actively wait for him to glance at you every once in a while. He’s actually looking past you, but he’s too absorbed at whoever he was actually looking at to notice you returning his looks. With you in the sidelines and him in the court and all the unintentional, weird eye flirting going on, you’re extremely surprised to find Yoongi’s chest suddenly coming in between your lines of vision. He’s just trotted on in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“I didn’t think you were a fan of volleyball?” he asks, hunched down towards you so you could hear him over the noise.

“I’m not. Just spectating.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, sitting down beside you. Your cheeks burn almost instantly, your hands building up a sweat.

“So what are you a fan of?” he asks, setting his elbows on his knees, hands together looking out onto the players on the court. He’s facing you a bit with his body and you’re sure you’re about to faint.

“Basketball, I guess, since I know how play works,” you lie. You only said that cause you knew Yoongi was into it.

Yoongi grins at your answer, dropping his eyes to his hands. “Funny, I’ve never seen you during games?”

You want to protest at what he’s said, but you realize you couldn’t without sounding like a complete idiot. What were you going to say? That you watched every single one this season except you’ve tried to hide yourself from Yoongi, because instead of the games, you’re looking at him? Of course not.

“Hey, I’m just joking,” he consoles you when you take a little too long to answer. He bumps his shoulder into yours and ohmygod I’m literally about to piss myself.

That was the beginning of something. You weren’t sure what to call it, but it was definitely something. He’s still cold and smug, but he’s also indirectly nicer. To only you, you’ve noted. He’s switched seats with the guy behind you in literature and now you’re not sure of how you’re supposed to move when in class. He walks out the room with you on the way to your next class and you talk. He gives you his spare snack bars before any activities begin. He also picks you on his team during gym. Sure, you’re never first pick, but you’re a good third. That’s good enough.

Good enough is what you keep telling yourself. That you don’t need any more than whatever this was. Random hellos in the halls and small smiles. It was enough. That you and Yoongi will never be together, but this, being his friend, was enough.

“Was my pun really that funny?” you ask him the first time you have lunch together on a whim.

“What?”

“We became friends after you laughed at me in class.”

“Oh, you kept track?”

You wanted to take what you’ve said back before Yoongi wipes away any embarrassment that was about to build in your system. He tells you he’s just kidding and that he’s just always wanted to be friends with you. That he’s not sure about how to initiate things, so he took that as gateway interaction.

You think to yourself that he’s literally an idiot. That you’ve tried to initiate at least a friendship about 70 times, and each and every single time, he seems unhappy to be around you.

But that’s okay. All those times he’s turned you down have led up to this glorious moment of actually having him in your contacts list, having him as an option to call on random food trips at night even though you would never. Of actually having him smile at you when your eyes meet. Of actually having him here, in this McDonald’s in campus eating a burger as you wait out the rain.

The pun, though, the ”gateway interaction”, it wasn’t funny. In fact, it took everything in Yoongi to laugh as much as he did. He was at such a high risk for sounding phony that he just tried the hardest he could to fake it until he made it. He swore he almost popped a vein that day, but it was worth it. He was unsure of how to approach you, given that when he realized he wanted to, you’ve stopped trying to get around him which made things about ten times more difficult.

He was ecstatic about your unofficial date today, when he’s caught you waiting in a shed for the rain to stop before asking you if you wanted to make a run for it to McDonald’s. He’s trying to keep his composure around you, trying not to fidget too much, not trying to chew too loud. But you kept coaxing him to talk and to talk and to talk that he’s now just caught himself talking with his mouth fucking full for the third time so far.

God, when your lips are a little bitten by the cold like that as you eat your McFlurry, he wants to kiss you. He’s not listening to what you’re saying anymore, just nodding and smiling with his teeth out. That’s how whipped he is.

But the rain stops, and so does his train of thought when “get going” leaves your lips.

“I’m sorry I—“ he tries to apologize for zoning out.

“Need to get going, yes. Namjoon’s going to skin you!” You say, already pushing yourself out of your seat. The literary reading, how could Yoongi forget. He volunteered at the theater so he could stare at you dreamily while you yelled at idiotic freshmen that made out under the stage. He’s also promised Namjoon he’ll critic his acting for the play.

Right now, Yoongi’s not sure why, but he’s sweating. Profusely. He’s already mapped it out in his head, take something that’s yours, and then run after you to return it so he could ask you if you want to go to dinner randomly tonight. Like a passive-aggressive way to ask someone out on a date.

He’s already got a pen and a hair tie in his pocket, but he’s all over the place. He can’t use these? What would make a pen so important that he’d have to go to you at eight o’clock at night just to return it? He sets the pen back down on the table. The hair tie, he’s decided to keep it for himself. You had about fifty, and he wants a remembrance.

Now he’s freaking because you’re about to go back into the locker room to get your things and leave, and he’s still scavenging around your belongings you’ve left messy on the table looking for that one thing. He already hears you laughing outside. He has to decide right now, this instant, what does he— oh, that’ll do.

It will definitely do. In fact, it’s so important to you it’s going to have him change 90% of his plans he’s so carefully pieced together tonight. He slaps his hand onto the screen of your phone to try and hide it from view as you swing the door open, and it works. You completely overlook it as you gathered the litter of things on the table, bid him goodbye and left. Now he’s in a real shit of a situation, because, how will he run your phone after you tonight?

The sensible answer would have been to run it after you right now, but he’s in a panic and his mind was set to this evening, where he was supposed to text you that you forgot something and if you could meet up by the fountain to get it from him. With his plans being thwarted too early, he’s still fixed on tonight, on 8 PM tonight. How was he supposed to text you now that he had your phone?

How was he supposed to text at all now that he doesn’t have his phone?

It’s gone! It’s not in his bag where the thought he’d left it, where could it have gone?

Oh, silly, it’s probably with you. You probably took it instead of yours by accident.

Now Yoongi really starts to sweat. You’re going to see that you’re his lockscreen. And that’s not so bad, except he’s also edited little emoji hearts on it. He thinks about just texting his number and say that you’re going to have to meet because you switched phones, but you’re going to see that he’s saved your contact under ”Wifey” with a ring emoji and three hearts.

Little did he know you’re in a panic too, wondering where your phone went and which stage member accidentally took it. If a stage member took it, actually, or if it had been stolen somewhere else.

You run into Jungkook at KFC on your way to your dorm and he notices you’re distraught.

“Everything alright?” he smiles.

You try to smile back. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jungkook hesitates for a second before asking you if you were going to head home alone. You nod your head yes and before you really notice what’s going on, you’ve already agreed to him walking you home. He also mentions his boyfriend’s apartment being a floor up, so it was really a practical thing to just walk together.

Yoongi unknowingly walks by your apartment while he was strolling around the building to calm his nerves and at the far end of the hallway, he sees Jungkook drop you off. He waits for him to kiss you, to absolutely obliterate him, but he doesn’t. He sees you close the door to your apartment and then Jungkook just leaves.

Yoongi’s stuck in his spot for a good while before he comes back to his senses. He debates on doing what he was thinking of doing, but he does it anyway. He’s sure he’s not supposed to and he’s going to seem extremely entitled to you after this but he’s so overcome with anger—jealousy, really, and trudges on to your apartment door.

Knock knock knock.

Who could that be? It’s like, 8 at night.

You swing the door open. “Oh, Yoongi, what brings you—“

In one swift motion he holds your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss. A soft kiss. It takes you both a second before you fully start kissing, moving your lips in sync. His other hand makes it around your waist and pulls you closer, kissing you a little harder, a little faster.

You shove at his chest lightly to tell him to pull away. You didn’t intend to break the kiss, but Yoongi’s taken a much deeper breath before the kiss compared to you and you were going to suffocate if you don’t get a breather.

Then Yoongi leaves. Leaves. His eyes widen and before you could smile at him and he mouths a quick sorry before running off. Literally running off. Into the hallway, disappearing at a turn. He’s so shocked at what he’s done and he didn’t know how he was supposed to recollect himself and actually explain what the fuck he’s just done, so he just left. He’s worried that he might have got in between something between you and Jungkook and he’s angry at himself now, angry at his impulsiveness. Angry that he thought that you could have been something. Angry that he wants you to be something, but he has no idea how to approach this whole thing. He decides he wouldn’t. That he won’t bother talking to you again after the sheer embarrassment he’s just drowned himself in. It was good while whatever you had lasted anyway.

Three days later, at theater, Yoongi finally shows up. He’s moved his seat to the back end of the room during literature and he doesn’t even show up during gym. You were seeking him out but wasn’t sure where to look, and without your old phone, you wouldn’t really have a shot at finding him since you didn’t have his number. You’ve borrowed your best friend’s old Samsung and it was tying you over well, but that meant not having half of the people you had on your contacts. Jungkook regularly walks you home now and Yoongi’s been creeping around waiting for him to do so every day. He’s still waiting for a hug, or a kiss, just to rub in his emotions.

You see him talking to Namjoon at the side of the stage and as soon as you said your lines, you ran to them.

“_____, hi,” Namjoon smiles. You see Yoongi turn away from you.

“Hey Joon, sorry, can I just—,” you squeeze yourself in between them, “give this fucker what he deserves thanks,” and then you yank Yoongi by his jacket and kiss him. His eyes grow wide and then they flutter shut eventually, kissing you back. You intended on a one-kiss thing, not a full make out, but Yoongi apparently had something else in mind.

“Ah, so things worked out,” Namjoon steps back and puts both his hands up. After a second of you two still not parting, Namjoon jingles his keys by your ears, face full of disgust.

“Take my office, but for the love of god don’t nut on my desk. You’ll ruin the wood stain.”

Yoongi smirks and takes the keys. Leading you inside, he yells “no promises” to the man that graciously gave you his office as fuck space. What a dipshit, you love him already.

“Listen,” Yoongi starts, leaning against the door as you settled yourself on the edge of the aforementioned desk Namjoon did not want any jizz on. “I’m not in here to fuck, alright?”

“Wasn’t hoping on it, really,” you cross your arms over your chest. “All I’m interested in is knowing why you just ran away that one night and have been trying to actively avoid me, asshole.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” he scratches the back of his head.

“I like you, maybe? Or you don’t and just needed something to do?”

“Fuck no, I fucking like you. Like like like you. I was so jealous of Jungkook and—“

“Oh, of course you were.”

“I fucking was! I still fucking am! I had this whole thing fucking planned, took your phone, would give it back to you and maybe have some dinner, may have even kissed you before I left, but who do I see taking you home? Shit, I know I fucked up cause you ended up with my phone, but sheesh,”

He tries to mentally prepare himself for you breaking it to him, that you and Jungkook are getting along well and are on your way into else things past friendship, but he knows it’s a crapshoot and whatever prep he does, it won’t prepare him for his heart officially tearing into two. He hasn’t liked anyone as much as he likes you.

“You fucktard,” you smile and walk over to him, reaching for his hands that were fidgeting with each other. “You fucking idiot, you took my fucking phone? So the one I have, with me as the wallpaper, was yours?” you smile wider and give him a peck. “And Jungkook, baby, he has a boyfriend.”

“He does?”

“No I’m just kidding. We’re together.”

Yoongi’s heart snaps, but you pick the pieces right back up and laugh.

“Would I really be locked in this room with you if I had someone else?” You ask. He shakes his head. Without his worried expression changing, Yoongi pulls you in and kisses you again, slower than the last time he did. His hands were placed firmly on the lower part of your hips and he’s almost moaning as you pull at his shirt. You place both of your hands on his cheeks and lick at his lips, asking for permission and he gives it to you. Your tongues meet and at first it was shy, subtle, small licks in between kisses. Yoongi’s flushed, cheeks pink and he’s starting to sweat a little bit, but he loves it, he loves the adrenaline that’s building in his stomach. He grabs your ass after he begins to lose control but he doesn’t intend on taking things any further. Not yet. Not here. He wants a bed for that. Maybe some candles and some roses. Maybe after some dinner he’s going to cook. He’s not sure.

“Settle down,” you whisper against his lips when he starts to heavily massage your cheek.

“Sorry, I’m— they were right there, you know? Big and ready for the taking.”

“You didn’t even ask permission,” you frown. He immediately lets go of your butt and his mouth gapes open but you just kiss him again, smiling.

“_____, may I please grab your ass as we make out?” he asks, smiling, staring at your lips that he’s already turned so red.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Be my guest.” His hand finds your ass immediately. Both cheeks this time.

“Oh, and,” he says before your lips could touch again. “Will you be my girlfriend too? Is that appropriate to ask in this situation? I swear it’s not just cause we’re making out and I’m getting infatuated, I’ve been sure I liked you for a while now. I promise, I’ll take you out and shit and—“

You kiss him, softly, on the cheek to cut him off. “Yes.”

And at that moment, Min Yoongi. Perpetual frowner. Scoffer.

Smiles.

#tsundere! yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga imagine #suga drabble #yoongi drabble #yoongi imagine #yoongi x you #i dont know how to tag this #bts imagine #bts drabble

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blackberrywidow · 6 years ago

Text

Suffocating

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Langauge. Mild violence.

Prompt: “That took my breath away.” “Good. I aim to suffocate.”

Summary: Agent James Barnes has dedicated his life to tracking down psychopaths and serial killers and putting them behind bars, but when a possibly psychopathic, definitely beautiful assassin asks for his help, how can he say no?

A/N: This prompt was requested by @blackwidws several months ago (and was based on an actual conversation we had), but I just now managed to finish it. It is also loosely based on Killing Eve, so there’s that. Enjoy!

Bucky had been through… well, several tough situations during his career as CIA agent.

He had been captured by the Russians two years ago—tortured and maimed, ending with the acquisition of a shiny, state of the art prosthetic arm, courtesy of Tony Stark.

Then there was the issue with Zemo’s attack on the CIA itself, which hinged greatly upon his framing of Bucky as the bomber that was targeting CIA operatives and their families.

And of course, there were countless other instances where Steve dragged him into trouble, both during their adolescence, during their time in Afghanistan, and even now, when Steve was in the FBI.

But never before had Bucky felt this monumentally screwed.

He wasn’t letting that show though. For all she could tell, he got kidnapped by beautiful, potentially psychopathic assassins every day.

He was suave, he was cool, he was in control. And he could only hope that it bothered her—how unbothered he was.

Not that he could tell either way. She was just as cold and unaffected as she stared out the windshield, one hand held firmly on the steering wheel, the other pressing a gun into his side.

Bucky decided that just wouldn’t do. So, he did what he does best: annoy.

“Are we there yet?”

And finally, the mask cracked, though the slight twitching of her cheek would have gone unnoticed by anyone who hadn’t spent the last three hours analyzing her face.

“Does it look like we’re there?” she bites out through gritted teeth, eyes never once leaving the road, despite them being the only car around for miles.

Bucky shrugs, noting how the motion did nothing to dislodge the gun she held to him. Her grip was tight, unyielding; he would be more concerned about that if he thought he would have a chance of escaping even if he could get control of the gun. As it was, they were going down the highway at 70 mph, heading in an undisclosed direction for an unknown amount of time.

“I’d have a better idea if you would tell me where exactly it is we’re going, ma’am.”

There, again. A tick in her jaw so minuscule any normal person would miss it. From someone so controlled, he couldn’t help but wonder if she were doing it consciously.

“One, don’t call me that. Two, I’ll explain everything once we get there. Not a moment sooner.” She spoke clearly, evenly, her Russian accent only serving to make the words seem more authoritative.

If he didn’t have a dominance kink before, he definitely did now.

Which was really inconvenient, considering all of the afore mentioned issues.

“Okay,” Bucky sighs, resting his head back against the headrest in a practiced sign of disinterest. “Fine. I’ll play your game since, clearly, I have no choice. But what am I supposed to call you, considering I don’t even know your name? Or should I just call you The Widow?”

“Don’t call me anything,” she answers easily. “In fact, don’t feel that you have to speak at all.”

Bucky’s lip twitches at that, and he decides that maybe it would be best to heed her warning. He was already fairly fucked as it is. The only thing to do now is play it out and wait for his opening.

…

It had been a long day, to say the least.

The CIA had been working in tandem with the FBI, which was always a nightmare, even if it did mean he got to work with Steve. But it meant something was wrong, that they were chasing something dangerous.

That something was called The Widow, or at least that’s what the reports said.

A cold-blooded assassin intent on taking out key political figures in a bid to destabilize. To create chaos.

It was unclear who exactly she was working for, though some signs were pointing to Russian intelligence.

Bucky knew it didn’t really matter though; they were all the same in the end. Just another psychopath wreaking havoc on the world.

What he did know was that it was his job to stop her.

It was always his job, tracking down the serial killers and assassins that threatened the country. They all posed their own challenges, but this one involved more late nights and stressful meetings with assholes who didn’t have the slightest clue what they were talking about.

So, as previously mentioned, it had been a long day, and Bucky was ready to go home and sleep for a record-setting 4 hours before dragging his ass back here tomorrow.

At least, that wasthe plan, until he reached his car, only to find a woman with beautiful red hair and sharp green eyes waiting for him.

Bucky’s first thought was, woah, both because he was exhausted, and she really was incredibly attractive. But his second thought was a much more rational, what the fuck does this woman want from me?

His pace slowed, though he didn’t let any other outward signs of caution show. They were in the parking garage of one of the most secure facilities in the world, after all. Though a stranger waiting by his car certainly warranted some hesitation, it was nothing to worry about.

He was, as it would turn out, mistaken.

“Something I can help you with, ma’am?” he asked, taking a page out of Steve’s book and shooting for polite interest.

Her mouth curved up at the corner, forming what Bucky would consider a smile on others, but seemed too… menacing to be called that on her. Her voice was a soft rasp, the accent and grate of it catching him so off guard he almost missed her words.

“No, but there is something I can help you with, James Barnes.”

And maybe it was because there was a spike of adrenaline as he finally realized how monumentally badthis was, or maybe the universe just had an exceptional sense of timing, but that was when he felt it.

He stumbled, catching himself on the trunk of his car, wide eyes staring accusingly up at the woman who had yet to move from the passenger door. “You—did you drug me? When?”

She shrugged, looking wholly unconcerned by the whole thing. “Just a minor sedative slipped into your coffee. It seemed like the safest option. For both of us. Now, I suggest you relax, Agent Barnes. You’ll be more comfortable if you don’t fight it.”

“Oh fuck you,” Bucky managed to growl out before the pavement rushed up to meet him.

…

“We’re here,” is the only things she says to him before she opens the door, removing the weapon from his side and stepping out of the vehicle.

Bucky blinks once, watches her stride up to a cabin that looks mostly-intact and enter it without looking back, and he blinks again.

It seems like maybe this is some sort of test, or a trap. To leave him unguarded out here, just expecting that he would follow her in.

His options are admittedly limited. He can only guess at their general location based on the signs they passed on the highway, but they had been traveling on back roads for some time now. This cabin is the only notable thing that they had passed in what felt like hours. He could tryto hotwire the car—his own fucking car—but… well, if there was one thing Bucky was good at, it was making terrible decisions.

He follows her in.

He enters cautiously, taking in the rustic wood paneling and the single couch and table that served as furniture for the entire one-room cabin. There are no pictures on the wall, no TV, no phone, nothing but The Widow, sitting silently at the table as she waits for him.

Bucky whistles lowly, and because he’s an idiot, he opens his mouth. “I thought a high-profile assassin such as yourself would be able to afford a nicer place. Maybe even one with a window, or a one of those vacuums that follows you around. This place really looks like it could use a good cleaning,” he noted, only half-joking as he surveyed the dust covered floor and moth-eaten couch.

Her expression doesn’t change. “I don’t live here.”

He waits for her to elaborate, but after another thirty seconds pass by in complete silence, he clears his throat. “Well then, Miss Widow, why are we here?”

She narrows her eyes but doesn’t bother correcting him again. Instead, she reaches into the pocket of her coat—cream-colored, long, elegant, and likely worth more than his car—and pulls out a flash drive, smacking it down on the table and sliding it forward, not once breaking eye contact.

He hesitates only a moment before striding to the table and taking the seat in front of the flash drive. It seems that he made the right choice, because as soon as he picks up the device to examine it, she finally speaks.

“You’ve been looking into an assassin, one that’s been targeting politicians and world leaders across the globe.”

She’s still watching him, and it’s unsettling, but he ignores it and takes the opportunity to watch herthis time. Her face is smooth, expressionless in a way that is clearly practiced. She speaks about the assassin in a way that leads him to believe he was wrong in his assumption that it was her, but… there’s a familiarity there. A connection that goes beyond this flash drive that he holds in his hand. And her eyes, green and hard as stone as they may be, tell him he’s right.

“So you’re not her?” Bucky clarifies, because it really is the most pressing question at the moment. If he’s sitting in a cabin in the woods with the assassin he’s been chasing, it would be nice to know. “You’re not The Widow?”

She hesitates, and her teeth graze her lip, as though she were about to bite it before she caught herself. Not that he was looking at her lips, of course. “I was, once,” she says reluctantly, almost wistfully. “But not anymore. Never again.”

There’s steel in her voice now, and Bucky is having a hard time processing what all of this means, but if he were hard pressed, he’d say he believes her.

“Okay, so I’m gonna need you to tell me where I fit into all of this?” he said, all pretenses of nonchalance dropped as he waved the flash drive at her. “If you’re not the assassin—but used to be one—why am I here? What are you giving me?”

“Everything you want,” the woman says, still betraying nothing. “Information on the organization she works for. Information on her. Enough to bring them all down.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, because he’s been a soldier and he’s been a spy and he knows when something is too good to be true. And he knows when he’s being used. “All of that, huh? And I’m just supposed to trust you?”

“Of course you don’t have to trust me,” she shoots back, exasperation creeping into her tone for the first time. “All you have to do is look at the files, and—”

“With what computer?” Bucky cuts her off, looking around with wide eyes, taking in the complete lack of any sort of technology. “And why me? I know you want me to think this is just some gift that’s been dropped in my lap, but I know better than accept it without question. So tell me, sweetheart, why the whole show? Why drag me all the way out here just to give me a flash drive containing information on people you used to work for? ”

Her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare and it’s the largest reaction he’s managed to get out of her, and it doesn’t surprise him at all that it’s anger he’s inspired in her. “Do not call me that,” she seethed, venom lacing her tone in a way that made it clear he had struck a nerve.

Bucky would have felt bad, were it not for the previously stated factors.

So he scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, be angry about that. It’s not as though you’ve been kind enough to give me your name, even a fake one. Though that seems par for the course, as you haven’t given me any information.”

The apparently-former assassin seemed to be considering that, a glint of something like admiration sparking in her eyes before she nodded, resolute. “You may call me Natasha.”

The name sounded false on her lips, but he didn’t question it, knowing he had larger concerns. “Natasha it is then. Mind telling me the whole story then, as you’ve dragged me all the way out here and we seem to be lacking in any other entertainment?”

And he couldn’t be sure if it were a trick of the light or if it was genuine, but he could have sworn the corner of her mouth twitched up into the semblance of a smile.

But then she started talking, and neither of them felt like smiling any more.

…

Bucky learned a lot in the following three hours, enough that he felt like he had to reevaluate everything he thought he knew before he had met Natasha.

She had been taken from her family when she was young, sold off to some Russian intelligence organization called The Red Room. It was an experimental endeavor at first—take 28 young girls and train them to be killers. Simple, and apparently very easy if you got to them young enough. If you were cruel enough, manipulative enough.

But perhaps not perfect, because here was Natasha, telling him everything in a bid to ruin their plans.

“We were bought and traded, once we were old enough,” she was explaining, all cool detachment once again. Describing traumatizing events as though they had happened to someone else. “Kill a mob boss who took more than his fair share here. A politician who asked a few too many questions there. But then a different organization, one I’m sure your familiar with, got involved. And things changed.”

“Hydra,” Bucky says, mind flashing back to a winter spent in Russia not that long ago, one that ended with him losing an arm.

She nods, lips thinning almost imperceptibly, and he can tell she’s making a point not to look at the shining metal of his left arm. He doesn’t comment on it, and she continues. “Yes. They wanted to think bigger. They wanted to create chaos where there was peace, completely destabilize countries where there wasn’t. And they had a plan to do it: a list of fifty people that would completely change the world, so long as they were killed in the right way, at the right time.”

“And The Widow, she’s the one they have carrying this mission out?”

“It’s not just one girl,” Natasha corrects, still watching him carefully for a reaction. “We were all called that—it’s the name of the operation that called for our capture. ‘The Black Widow Program.’ This—this murder spree is just the culmination of their life’s work.”

“So why leave?” Bucky asked, leaning forward with narrowed eyes, suddenly too curious to resist any longer. “Why now? Why turn your back on them and sell them out after all this time? We’ve been chasing these women for almost a year now, thinking it was just one assassin, and now you waltz in, kidnap me, and tell me we’ve got it all wrong? I’m gonna need some sort of reasoning before I believe you.”

He tried to sound apologetic—as apologetic as one can sound after having been abducted and forced to hold conversation with woman who grew up murderingpeople anyway—but she didn’t seem to buy it. She did, however, nod in acceptance.

“Alright Agent Barnes, fine. Here’s the truth: I chose to come forward now because I have officially exhausted all my other options. As soon as I realized what they were doing—how far they were taking this—I knew that I couldn’t be a part of the end of the world. So I waited, and I bid my time, until finally I was able to make it out. And you were there.”

As surprising as everything Natasha had said in the past hour was, this was the only sentence that elicited a visible reaction from him.

His head snapped as if struck without his permission, and he blinked at her several times before he managed to ask, “Me? Where?”

This time he knew she was smiling, though there was no kindness in the gesture, when she said, “It was D.C. You were following a lead on the investigation and were looking into Senator Cortez as a potential target. You were right, of course, and you managed to mess it up just enough to give me my opening.”

Bucky was quiet as he tried to recall every detail about the week he had spent in D.C., from the meetings with the Senator to the extra security he ordered. And finally, after he thought about the staff he interviewed, he remembered her.

“You were blonde then.”

The smile was wider this time and gave Bucky the impression of a wolf looking at its dinner. “You do remember.”

“He died a week later,” Bucky responds, thinly vailed accusation in his voice.

She had the decency to look contrite, but he knew it was only for his benefit. “It wasn’t me. I left that night—my handlers were panicking, trying to find a new way to circumvent your new security protocols. I was supposed to be seducing you.” She says it with such casualness that Bucky just knows she’s toying with him.

“Wasn’t interested?” he asks dryly, wondering if it would have worked if she had. He remembered her for a reason, after all, and it wasn’t the carefully meek American accent she had used then or her tentative answers to his questions. It was her eyes, intelligent and watchful in a way that gave him pause, and a beauty that made everything else around her seem even more dull than usual.

She smirks then, and he knows she had guessed his train of thought. She is at least kind enough not to comment on it.

“I saw the opportunity for what it was: my out. I followed you to your room, just as I was asked, but instead of knocking on your door and fucking you for answers, I cut back to the staff entrance in the basement and made my way out with everyone else who was leaving for the night. No one suspected anything since I was already on the list of staff members investigated, and my handlers thought I was handlingyou. By the time they realized I had escaped, it was too late.”

“But not too late to kill Senator Cortez?”

Her face hardens, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked genuinely guilty. “I thought that I could get back there, have some sort of plan in time to stop them from killing him, or anyone else for that matter. I didn’t expect to be replaced so quickly.”

“Bitter?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask, picking up on the sour note in her voice.

She doesn’t respond with words, only narrows her eyes at him in a way that makes him regret having asked. “I’ve spent the last six months trying to gain enough intelligence to turn over to your government, so that it can be your problem now. So that I can live my life the way I want, without The Red Room or Hydra following me wherever I go, looking to collect on their investment. I want out,” she says decisively, and he can’t help but believe her. “I just need you to help me end this so that I can be free of them.”

Bucky nods, thinking on her reasoning and actually finding that it makes sense, at least from her perspective. But he still had one more question. “So, is that why you chose me to be your messenger? Because you knew my name from the investigation?”

Natasha tilts her head from side to side, looking contemplative. “I suppose that was one reason. But I looked into you after that, found out your own history with Hydra, and assumed you were my best bet.” Bucky raised a brow in question. “Best bet for what?”

“To help me,” she says, clearly hating that she has to say it out loud. “I brought you here because it’s a safe place that neither your bosses nor mine can find us. Because I want to give you this information, and I want to walk out of here of my own free will. And I can’t do that if you take me in.” She leans then, her keen eyes catching him off guard as they practically beg for him to understand. “If I give myself up to your government, even if it is to bring Hydra down, I’ll never have that freedom. You understand that, don’t you?”

Bucky understands a lot of things. He knows what it’s like to be tortured and abused by Hydra. Knows what it is like to have control and free will stripped from you. He had experienced it for nearly five months—he couldn’t imagine enduring it for decades.

He nods. “Alright then. I believe that’s all I need then, Miss Natasha.”

Her smile when she stands is the first genuine one she’s worn in a very long time.

…

Because they have just the one car—his car—they agree to drive back to the nearest city together. From there, Natasha will board a bus to a destination unknown to him, and Bucky will head back home to give the information to his boss, effectively single-handedly ending this war before it even begins.

At least that was the plan, but then there’s a blockade in the middle of the highway, still miles away from civilization, from any backup that he could call, and the plan is forced to change.

Bucky, behind the wheel this time, slows, thinking over his options as they approach the three armored cars and small army of men that block his path.

Natasha, who is used to thinking on her feet, does not entertain any thoughts of stopping as she stretches her foot over the center console and slams it down onto Bucky’s, pressing the gas pedal down as far as she can.

And Bucky isn’t sure who’s more surprised, him or the Hydra agents he’s suddenly plowing into, but he doesn’t have time to really consider it before his car crashes into two of the SUVs and his face hits the air bag.

After he’s able to gain his bearings enough to move and confirm that he’s alive and mostly unharmed, he sees that Natasha is already out of the car and that there are shots being fired all around him.

He curses, fumbling for his seatbelt and reaching for his gun. He takes cover as soon as he gets his door open, and he raises his gun, ready to start returning fire when suddenly it stops entirely.

He chances a look, ready to duck back down once they start firing again, only to see thirteen bodies lying scattered on the group, and Natasha squaring off against the last man standing. He was large-built, though not quite as bulky as Steve. He was grinning as he advanced upon her slowly, a knife with a blade the size of Bucky’s forearm held threateningly, and though the words were too quiet for him to hear, he was clearly taunting her.

Bucky raises his weapon, ready and willing to contribute even though Natasha had managed to take care of most of it within three minutes, but that turned out to be unnecessary as well.

Natasha flashes a smile that is all teeth and threat before taking a running leap, neatly vaulting over the slash of her target’s knife, and landing on his shoulders. He only has a second to look stunned before she gives a sudden twist of her thighs and snaps his neck with a sharp crack that Bucky can hear from ten feet away.

The man lands in a heap on the ground, but Natasha rolls gracefully off of him before rising to her feet once again. As she takes in the carnage—a car on fire to his left, his car with its crushed front right next to him, a scattering of bodies in various position, all of them dead—he can only watch her with wide, awe-struck eyes.

When she turned her striking green eyes back on him, looking him over for any injury, he can only think of one thing to say.

“That took my breath away.”

“Good. I aim to suffocate.” Her tone was dry, but her lips curved up into an amused smile before she jerked her chin in the direction of the only car that had survived the attack. “Come on, Agent Barnes. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us if I’m going to take you all the way back to New York.”

“Bucky,” he corrects as she climbs up into the driver’s seat and he takes the passenger without protest. She clearly had a better handle on this than him anyhow.

Her eyes flash to him for only a second as she pulls away from the scene, and he can’t help but be happy that he finally managed to tell her something about himself that she didn’t already know.

She, of course, is not one to be outdone. “My real name is Natalia.”

“Well Natalia,” Bucky says, rolling her name across his tongue like it’s something to be savored, not spoken, “let’s get this thing to my boss so you can finally get a taste of that freedom you want.”

When she smiles at him this time, it actually reaches her eyes.

…

Natasha surprises him when she does exactly what she said she would and takes him all the way to his office in New York.

He supposes it shouldn’t though: if there’s one thing he’s learned about Natasha—Natalia—it is that she has her own sort of code that she follows. And apparently it includes being honest with him.

The moment she pulls the stolen car into the same parking spot she had abducted him from not even 24 hours ago, she disappears without a word.

Bucky rolls with it, of course, because though she has been an assassin and a killer, she deserves the chance to be better. She had never been given a choice before, and he’d make sure she wasn’t robbed of one now.

So he takes the flash drive with the information into his boss with an abridged version of the events that led to its procurement, and hopes to be allowed to head home for a solid 8 hours of sleep before sitting through the debriefing.

His request is denied, which doesn’t come as a surprise, and he sits through another four hours of mindlessly repetitive questions and answers. They ask him to go over every detail, from his capture to the mess he left on some highway in New Jersey, and he recites the details again and again. They ask for information on Natalia, and he refuses every time.

He’s detached, just going through the motions of this bureaucratic shitshow while the CIA sort through the treasure trove of information that Natalia handed them. Steve notices, catching his eye and giving him a look that’s meant to be reassuring, and he’s not the only one.

Bucky’s boss finally sends him home with an exasperated sigh and an order to report in at 0600 tomorrow, and Bucky barely catches himself before sighing in relief.

It’s short lived.

Steve catches him in the hallway, concern clear in his eyes, and Bucky loves him like a brother, but he just wants to go homegoddammit. Seemingly sensing his irritation, Steve holds up a hand in surrender. “I won’t hold you up, God knows you could use a full night’s rest right about now. But I do just have one question.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, exhausted but willing to play along for his best friend’s sake. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Why are you protecting her?��

Bucky blinks in surprise, both at the simplicity of the question and his inability to verbalize his answer.

Because she didn’t deserve this. Because she was a weapon in the hands of murderers, but the courts will never see it that way. Because she deserves a chance to be free and learn what it’s like to make decisions yourself. Because the thought of her behind bars for the rest of her life makes me sick.

So he doesn’t answer, and Steve doesn’t appear to expect him to as he steps to the side and allows Bucky to pass him on his way to the garage.

…

For the third time in a row, Bucky’s attempt to find a moment of peace to just fucking sleep is thwarted. But the moment his eyes lock on the beautiful red head sitting on his couch, looking as though she belonged there, he knew he wasn’t going to complain.

“Nat,” Bucky blurts out, dropping his keys onto his side table in surprise. “I—What are you doing here?”

Her lips twitch up into a smile, and she doesn’t chastise him for the nickname, only waves a hand in greeting. “Bucky. I’m waiting for you, of course. What else would I be doing?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Bucky rolls his eyes and leans against his wall, still just watching her watch him. “I thought you’d be half-way to Mexico by now.”

Natalia wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Mexico is a bit too sunny for my taste. I was thinking we should head north, maybe hit Canada and figure out where we go from there.”

It took him an embarrassingly long time to process what she was saying. “We?”

“Well, yes,” she says, looking unsure for the first time since he had met her, and the sight made his heart jump. “I thought—well, I thought maybe you’d like to find out what freedom tastes like too.”

And the second the words left her lips, he knew he did. Because she understood him better than anyone after just a handful of hours spent together. She knew what it was like to feel like you were suffocating under the thumb of another, and she knew what it was like to break free of its hold.

She saw something of her past and her struggles in him, and he finally realized what it was that he saw when he looked into her eyes: his future.

When he takes too long to respond, she shrugs and says, “Besides, I might get bored if you weren’t around to annoy the shit out of me.”

He scoffs, but thinks, I’ll follow you anywhere, and he knows it’s true.

What he says is, “We’ll have to steal a new car.”

Bu she just smiles, all teeth and wicked intent, and he knows she understands anyway.

#mcu fanfic #buckynat fanfiction #buckynat #winterwidow #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #the winter solider #black widow #my writing

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rwbyremnants · 5 years ago

Link

WARNINGS: D/s play, foot worship, fellatio, condom sex, hair-pulling, breath play, female ejaculation.

=Chapter 2

While the eldest of the Schnee daughters was checking the fridge, Qrow Branwen was chuckling to himself as he stood over the toilet, whistling a pleasant tune. What a way to start the morning! No doubt things would be awkward for their next bowling game, but he didn't care. It was just what he'd been craving without even knowing it: a good, hard fuck with no strings attached. Winter had been just the kind of woman he was looking for and she more approached him than he approached her. This was by far the best outcome for this situation.

And it was about to get better. As he flushed and went to splash water over his face, he paused a moment to sniff the air. "I’ll be damned… she’s really doing it," he muttered to himself, quickly helping himself to some mouthwash before he exited. The smell of bacon frying was getting stronger, and stronger.

Glancing over her shoulder from the stove, Winter gave him a level gaze as she brandished the spatula. "Hope you don't mind me borrowing your apron," she said in a smooth tone, eyes still sparkling with the vestiges of lust from before. "Didn't want to get popping grease on my shirt."

"Hey, you know I was kidding, right?" he asked, pacing into the kitchen to observe her handiwork. Sure enough, eggs and bacon, both frying in the pan, sizzling away to perfection. Such a sight was just as pleasant as when he was bent over Winter from earlier, yet it came with some guilt. "Seriously, I didn't actually mean that sexist crap. You know that, don't you?"

Her smile softened. "I assumed as much, but… I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nice to have confirmed." A second later, she turned away to flip the contents of the pan. "Or at the very least, you were only still playing with me when you said it. One way or the other."

Leaning against the worktop nearby, he folded his arms across his bare chest. Even now he had decided against putting on a shirt. "Maybe I was playing with you. That's another thing; how does a super serious businesswoman like you get to like being called a ‘cumslut’?"

The spatula scraped loudly against the pan at the sudden broaching of that word. Her eyes flicked toward him as she paused to consider her options. Then she shrugged, and picked up the plate that was on top of the other, nipping the food onto it with a deft hand.

"You, um, can eat first if you're particularly hungry and want all of this. Then I'll get started on mine." Then she winked. "That is, if you'll allow a dirty girl to eat."

“Yeah, I can handle all this. Thanks.” Taking the plate of food without another word, he nodded, wandering to the drawer of cutlery to at least get them both knives and forks. Seemed the least he could do given the situation. Pushing a set toward Winter's plate, he gave a sly wink. "Who knows? Maybe we can have seconds if we’re still hungry after this."

"Maybe." The double meaning did not escape her, and she was more inclined to partake of the hidden one. Then she tossed another egg and two more strips of bacon into the skillet for her own breakfast.

"So… I noticed something interesting last night. Before you got me a drink."

"Y'did, huh?" Deciding against journeying further into the living room just yet, he leant against the doorway, holding his plate level with one hand, and grabbing the fork with the other. "What was that?"

As the coffee began to brew into the carafe at last, she turned the bacon gently without disturbing the egg just yet. "Oh, a little magazine you had buried under your other magazines. One covering a distinctly… unique topic."

It didn't quite phase the cockerel, who continued to toy with his bacon as he occasionally glanced over. He had to admit, he was surprised she had been through his magazine collection, but it wasn't too shocking considering he left them out. Still, he played with the subject. "Which one? The swimsuits, or the motorbikes?"

"You're still talking about the ones on top, I believe." Pausing to fold her arms and stare at him, she decided to tease him lightly before they furthered the main topic. "So, do you consider yourself a lesbian, or simply enjoy watching two women together?"

“Ohhh, no ya don’t,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. "I tried to use that ‘lesbian in a man’s body’ line before, got the lecture from Yang about how I shouldn't joke about those things. So I'll go with option B."

Winter smiled. It rang true enough that Yang would come down on him for joking about very real trans issues; come to think of it, she probably shouldn't have, either. Turning back to make sure her food cooked evenly, she decided the time had come to be more direct.

"There's probably a lot of lesbian porn out there. I never buy those magazines myself, so I wouldn't know. Still… I find it somewhat interesting you felt drawn to that particular cover. The girl with the collar, her 'owner' sitting on her back. Surely that isn't the typical issue you find in any gas station."

This was beginning to get interesting. Not only was she into “being used”, but she was now talking about one particular thing in his collection. That showed she must be interested, as well.

"I think I got lucky with that one." He placed the fork back down on the plate a moment. "Or more, unlucky. It's got it on the cover so I figured the rest of it would be the same. Only a two page article. Rip off. Still, the chicks on the cover are pretty hot."

"And you were interested in more of that? Chaining a woman by the neck, riding her like some kind of pack mule." Her tone was neutral; she could either be amused, or disgusted, or another emotion altogether. It was impossible to tell with her back turned as she plated her own food.

"Hey, I don't think you have room to judge my fetish, cumslut." He eagerly watched for whatever reaction that would bring. Again, she stiffened. Held perfectly still, mid-action, for several seconds. Then she began to move again, finishing putting everything on her plate before she responded.

"Nobody said I was judging." Then she turned around, and her cheeks were slightly more pink than they had been. And obviously, it was from him speaking that word. "You're just the first person I've come across this randomly who was interested in the community. Even if…" Her tone changed, making it clear she was asking a question rather than assuming. "Even if you haven't explored that before?"

One particular word in her response raised an eyebrow: 'community'. Qrow had always assumed such a fetish was relatively common in porn or daydreams, but rarely practiced. And if it was, it was never talked about. Finally stepping out of the doorway to let her through as well, he replied, "Closest I got was tying some chick's hands behind her back. She wasn't into it. After that, I tried to read that Fifty Shades bull. Couldn't even finish the first chapter.”

"Oh, honey, at least your black ties are nicer than Christian Grey's," she said with light laughter as she set her plate down to get two coffee mugs for them both. Then she paused their conversation to look at him. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black." Instead of letting her struggle with both the cups and the plates, he instead went to collect her plate, carrying them both into the main room. Aside from being forceful and speaking harshly in their moment of madness, it seemed the rugged Qrow Branwen was rather gentlemanly, after all. Maybe there was hope for Winter to get to know him yet.

That explained the contented look on her face when she appeared with two cups of coffee. His was as requested, black as midnight. Her own was a lighter shade with a spoon in to stir. Then she seated herself on the couch and pulled her plate onto her lap.

"Ow!" she breathed quietly, then picked up one of the sports magazines to shield her bare legs from the heat. "Didn't think about that…"

But that only made Qrow laugh to himself. His plate had significantly cooled down by the time he placed it on his lap, meaning it was unnecessary for him to fetch one for himself. But that didn't stop him. Nor was he about to act embarrassed about the subject that had been brought up, especially since Winter seemed interested. He moved a few of the magazines out of the way, fetching their subject of conversation out, and holding it up.

"So what are you asking me here; which one I'd rather be?"

"Oh, your casual use of the word 'cumslut' would indicate which." Flashing him a wicked smile, she took a sip of her coffee before setting it aside and taking up her fork. "Although I could also see you wanting to be on the bottom. You'd be surprised how many strong, handsome, confident men like to have a woman grinding her high heels into their backs."

"Well those men are more than welcome to it. But that ain't me," he told her rather bluntly, finally tucking into his meal now he had two hands to cut things properly. Picking up a rasher of bacon and holding it up near his mouth, he decided to clarify. "Nah. Call me a typical dude or a narcissist or whatever, but I'd much rather be the one pullin' the chain."

"Would you?"

The question was short and to the point, and she left it hanging there as she raised the bacon to her own mouth with her fingers, biting it with relish. Halfway through chewing his own, he began to raise an eyebrow again. He couldn't deny there was a slight pinkness in his own cheeks growing, mainly from revealing so much to her. Yet, she was still a closed book.

"Alright, alright," he started once he'd finished swallowing. "What about you? Apart from the 'cumslut' thing."

A coarse laugh floated out as she reached for her coffee again. "Oh, no, no, no. That is far too long a conversation. We're still talking about you." After another sip, she asked, "Is it about the power play? Enacting a violent fantasy without any true injury? Shaming, degradation? Or do you just like the look of leather and chains? Again, not here to judge; simply curious what started you thinking about BDSM. There are almost as many reasons as there are people."

"Lil bit of all of 'em." Apparently, Winter was going to remain a closed book until she was ready, it seemed. But he could discover that later. Maybe even on the end of his chain. After chewing through the rest of that bit of bacon, he looked toward her. "Dunno if Tai mentioned or not, but in our old jobs where we met, we didn't exactly meet people that made us feel powerful. I guess that's why I like it. My way of saying a big 'fuck you' to the submission, I guess."

"Hmm…" Her smile had faded. She wanted to ask after that, but didn't feel entitled to do so yet. That would be as bad as him refusing to accept her delay in her own story. "Taking back power that was stolen from you… interesting. And understandable. It can be cathartic, I can tell you." Very quietly, she added, "From experience."

Bingo. Picking up his mug of coffee and taking a quick sip, he looked back toward her, watching the reaction like a hawk. Now he knew for a fact she'd experienced these things. There was a small amount of shame in knowing she had explored more than him, but still, that didn't matter.

"So you're a sub, then?"

Her eyes did not return to him. "Most of the time. The best way I can describe it is… sometimes I need to be a Dom. To work through something, or to reaffirm my confidence. And I don’t mind it at all if I know a sub needs me flogging them senseless." Her tongue flitted over her lips. "But what I crave is being a sub. Does that make sense?"

Raising his eyebrows whilst finishing off the sip, he tilted his head slightly, putting the mug back down on the table. They were both as complicated as each other, and both into this for reasons other than pleasure it seemed.

"I can imagine you with a whip, y'know. With a nice leather corset on, giving the orders." In fact, the thought was even making him stir again, having to shuffle his position to keep his plate still.

"You know, I could be a Dom for you," she told him with a slight smile, eyes finally finding his now that he had not judged her for her confession, had not insinuated she was mentally ill or disgusting. "Put on the show without making you do anything a sub would normally do. Just a little costume party."

Rolling his eyes, he finally resigned to holding the plate properly, and put it back on the table with his coffee. "I don't think I'd make a good sub," he confessed, but that brought a smirk. "I don't take orders well."

That merely prompted a light shrug. "That's up to you. I'm very good in both roles. By now, you ought to have figured out that I excel at whatever I choose to attempt." She punctuated this by sipping her coffee again, gazing at him over the rim of the mug.

"But you enjoy the bottom more. Noted." Electing to ignore the rest of his breakfast temporarily, he leant back on the sofa with one arm, leaning his head against his hand to get the best look at her. By now he could feel himself becoming more ready again for another round, but he didn't put any effort into hiding it any longer.

"So now that I know the basics… how about round two?"

"Oooh," Winter cooed softly, grinning behind her coffee mug. "Well, well, someone is ready to go again." Taking one more sip of coffee, she set the plate and the magazine down alongside the mug, then rolled to straddle his lap in one fluid motion.

"So," she sighed, nose an inch from his, "how are we doing it this time? Any requests? If you don't have another condom, I could just blow you."

Smirking eagerly, his hands moved around to her back. This time, he was going to be that bit more assertive. Starting with a single step, moving his hand under her shirt to caress the skin underneath. No looking, just feeling.

"Like I said, Snowbird…" He continued to grind himself up against her however he could, feeling himself stirring. "I always carry a couple around."

Eyes sliding closed, she simply enjoyed the sensation for a few breaths, grinding right back. Then she whispered, "God, you really weren't kidding about that cock…"

Grinning eagerly back at her, he rested his forehead against hers, delivering a particularly hard thrust upward against her panties. Just enough to feel the girth again. "I'm a lot of things, but I ain't no liar." But then he quickly gazed around. Where would they do it? The sofa wasn't all too comfortable, a night on it told Qrow that it was barely big enough for one. It left one option, one that could fall in her favour. "But you, however… are on top of me right now. Some sub."

"Haven't you ever heard of a 'power bottom'?" But she was laughing breathily. Then she leaned to one side and nipped at his ear with her teeth. "Besides… we haven't established rules of the game. I'm not a sub until that's taken care of."

"Safe words and all that jazz, right?" he asked, unable to help the contented sigh that followed as he was fussed over. Continuing to stroke her back, he laid back to listen. "Alright, lay ‘em on me."

"You…" Her movements stilled, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You want to discuss this now? Are you sure? I could just fuck you senseless and worry about that later…" But her cheeks were flushing slightly. "But… you… want to Dom me. Right here and now. Don't you?"

Leaning himself further back so she could watch him properly, the movements under her shirt stopped and he paused his grinding in addition. All so he could smirk back up at her. "You've already experienced this stuff. Way I see it, I got a lot of catching up to do. No time like the present."

Suddenly, Winter looked very different from he had ever seen her. She looked flustered, like a girl going on her first job interview, or waiting for her prom date to pick her up. Composing herself as best she could, she said in a still-excited voice, "Alright, well, we… first thing is first, I have a few hard limits. No injuries that will be visible outside of my clothing, especially to my face. Nothing that will leave lasting permanent damage without discussing it beforehand - like branding, as an example. Gosh, if I'd known, I would have brought my list…"

"You actually have a list for this stuff?" When that question earned him a slight glare in return, he held his hands up, smiling nervously. "Alright alright, I'm still listening. Anything else major?"

"Hmm," she huffed, already forgetting her momentary irritation. "No scat, ever. No golden showers unless it's in a controlled environment. Anything that goes into any of my openings has to be approved before play begins. If you plan on gagging me, we have to establish a safety signal to take the place of a safety word. And I don't like knives or guns being brought into play, but if you really want them, they have to either be clearly plastic… or I have to check them myself, immediately before play, to make sure they aren't loaded or sharpened."

"Ain't got any of those in the apartment, anyway; I'd say you're pretty safe." This seemed like an awful lot to take in for a first encounter. Perhaps he should have left it after all… Still, not letting himself be deterred, he nodded. "No icky stuff, no danger, safety signal. Got it. I think from the limited things we have in here, that ain't a problem."

She grinned at his overwhelmed expression. "Told you I could just suck you off… but alright, let's try this if you're still game. I can select a safe word, or you can."

Smirking widely, he seemed to have come up with an idea for that. A delightfully evil one. "Alright," he began, folding his arms instead. "It ain't a word, more of an impression…" When that seemed to raise an eyebrow more, he quietly let out a slightly higher pitched sound over and over. It was clear he was doing an impression of a chicken.

Both of her pale eyebrows went up at this notion. "You… can't be serious. You want me to do my best impression of a rooster? Aren't we taking that theme a bit too far?" But then she held up a hand. "No, no… you're the Dom. If I do that and you don't realize what I'm doing and stop, then it's on your head later."

"Well, it’s more to say 'I'm a chicken' than about the rooster thing. Since you can’t take whatever’s goin’ on." Now that was established, seemed the cockerel really did want to get back to business. His hands unfolded and instead he pushed against her shoulders, demanding her to stand. "First thing’s first… If you are a dirty girl, then get on the floor."

However, he seemed to have erred slightly. Winter’s hand reached up and into the back of his hair, grasping hard. A lot harder than the shapely figure and smaller stature would have suggested she was capable of pulling.

“AH!” There was a rather loud yelp from having his hair suddenly pulled, and he found himself having to tilt his head with it to prevent any further pain. But as best he could, he endeavoured to look back into her eyes.

"Let's get something straight, Rooster Boy,” she told him in a low growl. And the seriousness he saw in her flinty eyes really brought it home; this was a huge dealbreaker. “If I call a safety word, it doesn't mean I'm a 'chicken'. It means the pain or suffering that you're causing me is no longer something I can just shake off when play is over. The benefit-cost ratio no longer falls on the benefit side; I’ll feel too crappy later for the high of being dommed to be worth it. And I only use it if I absolutely have to, either because I suddenly know I can’t do this, or because you have breached one of my limits. Just because I'm considering being your cumdumpster doesn't mean I'm signing away all my rights forever. When we’re not playing, I am still a woman who deserves your respect as a fellow human being. Do we have an understanding?"

Qrow swallowed hard, suddenly finding he was even more turned on. This powerful woman was putting herself into his hands, and her words made him appreciate that a lot more starkly than he had a minute ago. "Alright." He finally nodded, making sure there was no amusement or flippancy to his tone whatsoever. "I get it, the safety signal is serious business. I won't fool around anymore."

"I'm a fan of fooling around," she told him, releasing his hair and running her fingers through it to soothe the slight ache she had caused. "Within reason. And I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I had to know you were listening. Now…" Her hands withdrew to lay on his shoulders, and she smirked very slightly, before wiping her face clear of any expression.

"Begin play."

There was a brief pause in that moment while he decided just what to do. Removing clothing wasn't discussed, so he threw that out. Forcefullness wasn't defined, either… but that seemed like the better option he had. Quickly grasping her wrists as he stood up as well, he shoved them off his shoulders, glaring downward as he stood close.

But what could he command of her? Just bending down to take him again seemed like it would waste the chance, and all that preparation. There had to be more. And to see just how far she would go, he eventually released her wrists to make a demand. "Kiss my feet."

"Yes, Master," she replied. Like lightning, no hesitation or misgiving. As she knelt, voice quieter than usual, she asked, "Does Master wish to be called something else?" Then she added in a stage whisper, "Normally I wouldn't ask that during play, but we didn't cover a lot of things before."

If anything, the word made him smirk all the more as he watched everything she was doing, even lifting one of his legs toward her to give easier access. He could certainly get used to that term. "Master is perfect."

Nodding, she immediately reached up and accepted his heel into her hands, drawing her goal higher. Soft lips caressed the tops of his toes, then grazed up toward his ankle to leave another kiss. Her eyes moved up toward him.

"Is this good, Master?"

Eyes half closing in contentment, he smirked downward at her, drawing his heel back out of her hand to rest down on the ground. "Very good… Now this one." Not even a moment's hesitation before he brought his other foot up toward her, to allow her to give the same treatment. However, like her, he had to ask in a whisper, "What do you like to be called in this stage? I'll use your favourite word later."

"W-well…" She left a few kisses on his other foot first to give herself time to find her courage. She seemed vaguely self-conscious to answer, but did it anyway. "The sub-name I liked most was… 'Princess', Master."

"Princess, huh?" For a sub, it wasn't what he was expecting. But regardless, he nodded, eventually bringing that foot back as well once he was satisfied with the attention. The foot-kissing was only a challenge, anyway. An actual demand was about to go forth when he pointed toward his wallet on the table. "Alright, 'Princess', the other condom’s in there. You can get me ready to put it on."

"Yes, of course, Master." And rather than standing up, she crawled the few inches to get the wallet, opening the wallet to retrieve the condom. It was a reputable brand; she approved of his choice. Returning to him, she leaned up and placed her hands on his thighs, the packet between her index and middle fingers.

"Does Master want me to get him ready any special way?"

Already reaching to push his boxer shorts slightly further down, he could feel his body getting itself ready without her actions. Even moreso when he thought about what she was doing earlier with her mouth. He wanted more of that. "Show me what those pretty lips can do, Princess."

With no further questions, not even a confirmation, Winter took him into her lips, tongue swirling around the lingering essence from their last session where it clung behind the head. The moan of pure gratitude and desire was as obscene as it could be, and her back arched as she took him deeper.

Such a moan was echoed through her new master. Gazing upward into the air, he found his hands slivering into her hair while she worked his member with her mouth. It was hardening again in no time, and the tongue that savoured his flavour was getting more and more adventurous over him. What could that tongue do lower down? On that soft sack of his? Maybe she could reach that as they kept going.

Willing to test that theory, his hands grasped handfuls each of hair, using it to keep her going against his member. The encouragement was clear. Her head began to bob harder and harder, taking him deeper with each pass. In no time at all, he was sliding into her throat, her lips brushing the base. Completely enveloping him as she did all the thrusting for both of them.

"Oh yeeeaaaah…" For one particular thrust, he held her firmly against the base, keeping himself nestled inside her for a short period of time. Oh how good it felt… So warm and wet, this time without the covering. It felt different to her entrance, but no less fantastic. In fact, it was probably tighter.

Taking advantage of being held entirely still, she ran her tongue as frequently over the underside of him as she possibly could with it as deep within her as it was. This was not the easiest feat in the world, but she pulled it off, experienced as she was.

"D-Daaaamn… how do you manage to do that without coming up for air?" The instant it came from his mouth, he stopped. That wasn't really something a master would ask. So instead he shook his head, finally easing her off his member instead. Once she was back enough she could breathe, he asked, "That good enough for you, Princess?"

"Yes, Master," she panted wetly, literally gasping for breath. After a few deep inhalations, she pressed her face up against his cock, despite the coating of mingled semen, her own juices, and saliva. "But is it good enough for you?"

Having to calm his own breathing down, he smirked. "I'm rock hard, aren't I?"

When she nodded, it further stirred her own arousal, and she raised up the condom to show him. "Is Master ready for this?" While waiting, she gazed up at him as her lips kissed lower, just barely grazing his soft sack below.

Barely able to speak anymore, he nodded. The sight when he looked down was truly one to die for. "He sure is," he managed to pant. The idea from earlier was starting to return, about where she should go. And the smirk only grew to a devious grin. "Ready to take this dirty girl on the ground, where she belongs."

"Of course, Master." Her fingers shredded the packet with practiced ease, and she barely glanced at it as she began to roll it down along his beautiful example of manhood. From opening it to snugly around him in under ten seconds.

"Pretty good with these things…" He had to compliment that, even if it wasn't all too in character. Still, he could get back into it slightly, and learn a little more about Winter while he was at it. All with a rather sly demand: "So let’s see your favourite position, Princess. I'm waiting."

With a shy smile, she used a carefully deferential tone to tell him, "We do not have the equipment for Princess's favourite position, Master. Though I do also enjoy…"

As Winter's deft hands ran down from his hips to his knees, she slowly eased back onto her haunches. Then the hands vanished and went to behind herself as she lowered herself down, until her back was gracing the carpeting between the table and the couch. Licking her lips, she rubbed up and down her own thighs now, spreading her legs as wide as was possible.

"Is Master satisfied?"

"Master's satisfied with anything. But he's surprised that Princess would go for something that simple." There was no need to be picky, however. Dropping down to his knees, he couldn't help but continue to stare at the sight. Still covered by that meaningless pair of panties, which were more than soaked. She'd need to be borrowing a pair of his before she left if she wanted a comfortable journey back home. Laying his hands on the insides of her legs, he brushed them up and down. Anything to get her excited.

"Ready to take me again?"

"Always, Master." Of course, they both knew that "always" hinged on how well they got along on a long-term basis. But for the purposes of this current session, she was his property, his pet… his cheap diversion. But she wanted to welcome him into her embrace this first time. It was the simplest, and the most easily pleasurable position, tried and true.

Clambering on top of her, this time she'd feel everything close up. The sheer body weight added to the dense muscles in his chest and arms, all lowering themselves on top of her. He had begun to reach a hand down between them, until realising what he could do instead.

"Show me," he commanded. "Guide me in."

Biting her lip, she eagerly reached down between them and grasped him, stroking very briefly to make sure he was still solid as a rock. Then she moved the tip to linger just between her soft petals, asking, "Like this?"

Edging himself further and further forward whilst she held him, it was a joint effort when the head slipped inside of her. One hand made it's way back into her hair, grabbing a handful to pull back. "Perfect." And while she was held back and unsuspecting, he thrusted forward again quickly. Again leaving no time for her to acclimate.

"A-AH!" Winter burst out at the sudden and hard invasion, though she did her level best to keep from crying out. How could it be so huge, and so soon after it last was drained? She would have to redefine how she saw being penetrated purely for this one man. That excited her.

The ever-present smirk was beginning to get bigger. Even more so when he thrust back and forward again. Only this time, he had a new tactic, one equally as exciting as it was frustrating: he went slow. Agonisingly so. He took a good few seconds to linger all the way inside, then a good few more to draw back again. And that continued for a while as he pulled her hair back.

All Winter could do was groan at the pace, but she couldn't cry out, couldn't call him the tease that he was. She wanted to, she yearned to… she wasn't allowed. They were engaged in play, and she did not have that power anymore. So she could do nothing but weather the slow torture of a thick, hot cock driving its way into her and dragging back out again.

"Huh… Wonder how long it would take to finish you off like this," he teased, continuing to slowly torture those tight insides of hers. Occasionally he pulled on her hair harder, watching with a sick glee as her head followed suit, having to follow its direction. When he could, he leant close to her ear, whispering, "Maybe I'll find out… maybe we could be here all day."

"All day…" Swallowing, she breathed quickly and shallowly due to the angle at which her neck had been wrenched, gazing up at him. "I… would love that, if it pleases my master. Whatever Master wants."

"You would, huh?" he purred, leaning in toward her. In a bold risk, and something they were yet to cover by rules, he pressed a kiss against her exposed neck. Then another… then another… over and over again. It made a slight change from the agonising sensation of a thick member going in and out.

There was a pronounced gulp from Winter. One of nerves. More likely than not, he could hear it, but she didn't mean to let it slip through, nervous as that made her. She simply breathed deeply of his heady masculine scent, allowing herself to be lost in the moment.

For a moment he paused those kisses, gazing down toward that perfect throat… There were other things he wanted to do, besides kissing. Things he'd been curious of, but never put into practice. No time like the present.

Leaning in toward her ear, he had to break character again, whispering, "How do you feel about choking?"

"How good are you at it?" she asked back, also in a whisper. "Just remember… I won't be able to use a safe word."

“Haven’t tried…" He was slightly more ashamed to admit. Having forgotten that safety factor as well, he thought of a new tactic, kissing her neck one more time. "If you’re fadin’ out, stomp the ground three times with your left foot, got it?"

She was tempted to point out that either foot would make the same noise, but decided to let it slide. Instead, she slipped back into her role and whispered, "Yes, Master."

Finally backing off to continue their play, the pace of thrusting began to quicken for a moment, speed increasing as he pumped back and forth into her body again, allowing her to get used to the stimulation. The last thing he wanted was too much, too soon. But a hand did leave her hair, and instead went to grasp her throat. There was no tightening just yet, only pinning her down. A threat of what would come, perhaps.

Her eyes widened appropriately, lips parting as she attempted to draw in more breath. It still came easily enough, though she felt a thrill of dread as she considered how soon it would not…

"Does Master… like to see Princess like this?" she breathed, eyes earnest, trusting. Hips still shifting back and forth around his girth.

"Fuck yeah, he does…"

And with that, the hand on her throat began to tighten. Tighter and tighter still until he could tell she struggled to breathe any longer. Only then did he increase the pace even more, forcing himself in and out even quicker, matching the very pace they had at the kitchen. That doubled with what he could see was making the venture more and more exciting, causing him to moan even louder.

Of course, Winter did have to stop moaning. There was no way she could continue to do so if she had no breath. But her face clearly told Qrow that she still loved every second he was pumping in and out of her tightness, forcing her thighs apart.

The way her vision swam, her fingertips and toes tingled from the lack of oxygen, it was something that always excited her. Even If sometimes she wasn't in the mood for it. Luckily, this wasn't one of those times; she had been indifferent to the idea, but that didn't mean she would have no reaction.

He waited until she appeared red in the face, continuing to pump harder and faster, until he finally let her throat go again. Allowing her to regain that valuable air she needed, he tried to contain his moans to ask, "That enough for ya? Or do you want more, you dirty girl?"

As she gasped gratefully at the air, fascinated as always by how much more she could feel compared to a moment ago when her breath was being stopped, she licked her lips and panted, "More, Master."

"More, huh?" Yet again, he tightened his hand, feeling her breathing come to another stop while he pumped in and out quickly and harshly. Everything about this was unbelievable; how attractive Winter was, how eager she was to be trash talked, and how much she was trusting him to never betray her trust. Even if there was a small feeling of guilt that he didn't deserve it, he didn't let it bother him currently, and kept pumping in and out of her.

"You're a glutton for punishment, dirty girl. Think you can come while you're outta breath? If I'll let you, that is."

From experience, she knew the answer to that. Intimately. But she wanted to let him discover that on his own. So she merely continued to squirm beneath his body, hands coming up to weakly caress his sides as he rode her, as he removed her freedom to breathe.

Tilting his head, he decided to keep his hand there for a while longer, truly curious of how long she could last before she'd tell him to stop. It was cruel, perhaps, but certainly not something he would be doing every time they were intimate. Simply a fantasy he'd never acted out before and was curious about.

But she didn't. Her eyes closed as the world began to fade, and her arms fell out to the side, even though her face was still shining with sweat, mouth open as she tried to pant in response to the intensity of pleasure assailing her lower half. As distantly as she could feel it now… it was also the only thing she could still feel. And that was something she craved.

Being able to ignore everything else but pleasure. Even her own demons.

How long has it been? Seconds? Minutes? Qrow was unsure anymore. But she still wasn't telling him to stop. Nor was she making any effort to even express true discomfort. She really was handling it well, continuing to take his length as roughly as it forced its way in over and over, despite the lack of breath, without even one complaint. But he didn't dare leave it forever. After a few particular thrusts that made his legs quiver, he released her neck again, allowing her back to reality.

Winter didn't react right away; her eyes remained slits, and her face slack. Then she took a shaky breath, thrashing from side to side weakly. She could scarcely move. Her eyes were glassy, and darted from side to side before fixating on Qrow's face.

"Am…" Her voice was hoarse, and she coughed, sending spasms through both of them where they were joined. "Did I… please Master?"

Having to slow the pace down a little just to hold on longer, he looked down at her form. His hand left her throat and moved to the ground by her face to support himself upward. Even if it was his goal to be forceful, he couldn't do that to her again; not today.

"Geez, Princess… you really know how to hold your own."

"That's what Master needs from Princess," she whispered. Her hand came up to rest on his side, but the touch was so light it was almost an afterthought. That had been slightly too long; she would have to recover now, rather than bouncing back immediately as she had the first time. So she began that process - taking long, deep breaths that inflated her lungs, sent sensation back into her palms and soles, made her heart thunder in her chest. And…

Made the grinding in and out of her so much more real. Already, it had been glorious, but being able to enjoy it more fully with a mind that was not half-asleep from asphyxiation doubled the sensation.

After grinding a little longer, he gradually leant in again, as though he were about to kiss her neck; though he held off. Unfortunately, he was still rather bad at this, it seemed, as he broke character again to whisper, "Seriously though, you gonna be okay if I go fast again? Or should I let you recover more?"

Though he would never see it, she smiled very slightly at the feeling of his face near hers, and the care within the question. It helped calm the lingering anxiety of their play. What she said was, "I am ready, Master. Do… as you will with my body."

He could have just kissed her in that moment, broken character even more and poured everything into a kiss to try and ease his own worry. But he refrained. In little to no time, he was thrusting as fast as they were in the kitchen, raking in and out of her inner walls with his rock hard member. The moment they had slowed had managed to push back and delay his orgasm, but it wouldn't be long until he'd be filling her again.

"Nnhhhah!" she gusted, head falling back at the brutal pace he set, wrapping her calves around his hips. Drawing him in, yearning for him to go as fast as he might so that they could both reach their end. Hers was building fast, and she wanted him right there with her when the dam broke.

And that would be very soon. But not before Qrow reached his own. And after a few more quick and forceful thrusts, more loud and gruff moans, he met his end. Moaning once more through gritted teeth, he forced himself all the way inside, feeling his member throb over and over again within her as yet another latex coating was filled.

But the speed at which that orgasm came wasn't the only surprise to come. When Winter Schnee came for the second time, moaning out into the ceiling her joy at reaching the end of this session, there was a bit more to it than previously. A warm splash of fluid hit Qrow's pubic area, thin and sudden, and then smashed between them with his last few thrusts. Over and over.

In his lust-filled gaze, Qrow had not noticed the initial outcome of their actions together. But then another few splashes hit, and he was starting to realise what just happened. In that moment, he quickly pushed himself off her, looking down between their bodies.

There was a significant amount of fluid present. It seemed that Winter Schnee really was just as he described. Yet he wasn't disgusted. He only growled, "Well… You really are dirty girl, huh?"

"Yes, Master," she breathed, averting her eyes as her cheeks tinged with pink. No matter how many times that was noticed, it seemed to provoke the same reaction: embarrassment.

Noticing such an unusual reaction, at least compared to everything so far, Qrow was slightly thrown off. She was was embarrassed at what she'd done, perhaps even humiliated. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of feeling so powerful compared to her, he didn't know if he would be pushing any kind of limit in continuing. Even his own. Making someone else cry just seemed to be something he couldn't risk unless he was assured it was part of play, or that she wouldn’t cry at all.

So instead, he lowered his head, letting out the same noise as he did before their play. The chicken safety signal.

At that, Winter blinked several times in complete surprise – then her hand flew to Qrow's face and cupped it, gently but urgently. "What is it? Are you alright?"

Sliding himself back out of her body, he laughed under his breath instead. And once free, he flipped down by her side. One hand had idly landed across her stomach, where he gently stroked over the fabric of her shirt while he caught his breath again.

"Nothing's wrong," he panted, smiling back at her. "Just figured that's how we say 'game over'."

"Oh…" Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, evenly, and regained some of her composure. "Alright. It's… I'm really glad you were paying attention and everything, but you scared me!" Then she rolled slightly to look at him. "If we come to the natural end of a scene like we just did, we can use a phrase like 'End play' or 'Scene complete'. Using the safe word is… like applying an emergency brake. You didn't do anything wrong, at all, but that's why I was worried; it made me think you were in pain, physically or mentally."

"Oh…" Now he was beginning to understand all the more about things. Safety phrases, phrases to begin and end scenes, the limits that each of them could take. It was all part of the learning curve into a world he was eager to explore. And what a guide he had!

When his hand drifted slightly further down, into the accidental wetness, he quickly looked down again. "And this… is this something you learned to do, or have you always done that when you finish?"

Her blush returned, but not nearly as much as it had before. "Well… it's not something I have control over, if that's what you mean. But it happens from time to time. Hopefully you weren't too disgusted; I'd be more than happy to clean up after myself."

"Do you realise how many guys out there would die for a chick like you who could do that?" he asked rather seriously, unable to help but dip his finger against the moisture that had gathered around the top of her legs, collecting a small amount of it to look. Her shiver said that she enjoyed the attentions, even if only distantly now. "I'm indifferent personally but gotta admit, it's pretty flattering to think I can make a woman squirt."

"Really?" she breathed softly, somewhat surprised. "I'm… well. I haven't had anyone tell me they enjoyed it in a while, but most of the time men think I've… well, wet myself. In the unfortunate way." Then she added a slight chuckle. "Did have one guy who was into that idea, and then was disappointed it wasn't urine. It takes all kinds, I suppose."

"Huh… s’pose so." He nodded, finally bringing his hand back away from her again, beginning to shift to get back up. And to remove the covering from his cock. But as he got up and headed toward the kitchen to dispose of it, he continued to talk as he walked. "Y'know, it's kinda embarrassing to admit you've had way more action than me. But hey, I don't wanna be that guy."

Sitting up carefully, head still lighter than it normally would have been, she took a few breaths before she tried to answer. "It's… nothing to be ashamed of. I'm just glad you aren't calling me a whore for all of my experience." Then the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Outside of play, I mean."

Arriving back from the kitchen again, this time a few tissues in hand, his own mouth was mirroring hers. A confident smile shone through as he knelt down by her again, dabbing the various areas of the ground where the liquid had landed.

"I say guys who do that are jealous. They're either stuck fifty years in the past, or they're stuck in Mommy's basement. Fuckin’ weak."

"Perhaps you're right. I have very little time for misogynists, myself." As the next tissue dabbed at her thighs, touch gentle and attentive, her words ceased, and she merely watched him with a curious expression on her face. A contemplative one.

The final step was clearing the moisture off his groin, before tucking himself neatly away again. He was unaware Winter was looking, yet still wore a rather satisfied smile. "I might look rough as fuck and seem like some typical skirt-chaser, but I'm honestly the same. It's funny what you can pick up once you get two nieces you feel defensive over."

"And I find that admirable." Then she reached up to caress his neck. "Also, thank you for… wow. You're a really fantastic lay. For a first-timer, you even didn't do too badly with playing out a scene, but just the sex? I'm… going to remember this for a long time, I can tell you that much!"

That got him to look back toward her eyes again, stopping his movements so he could focus on her instead. Running a hand through his hair again in an attempt to neaten it once more, he smiled. "Back at ya', Snowbird. Let's just say I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime, if you're game."

"I'm beginning to agree." Then she used the edge of the couch to push up from the floor, legs like gelatin. "Ooh… good God, that's tight… I'm out of practice, I suppose. Have to get back to my yoga."

"Hey, least you got the bed instead of this crappy sofa," he remarked, collecting the tissues remaining and the condom wrapper to toss them out. But a trip to the kitchen wasn't all. Once deposing of the remains of their play, he walked back to the bedroom again. Even though his motives seemed to be unknown, he continued to speak to her from in the room. "I'm guessing you’d rather your sister or my niece not know you spent the night, right? I can cover for ya if so."

As she slowly approached the bedroom door, she considered this. "Well… yes, I think that might be best. The family will leap to a lot of conclusions about the nature of our relationship, and I would prefer to avoid those." She paused to sigh. "Especially from my father. He still expects me to find a 'nice young man' and get married, birth two-point-five children. Not that he's pushing, exactly, just… pointedly encouraging."

"Let me know if you ever get the point-five kiddo! That’d be something to call Ripley’s about." With a laugh, he pulled open one of the lower drawers in the small desk, picking up something Winter couldn't quite make out. That was until it was thrown at her face by him. A pair of red boxers. Not the most flattering pair, but it did the job.

"Figured you wouldn't wanna go home soaked. Feel free to keep 'em."

"Oh, I wouldn't have minded," she half-chuckled, though she was already sliding her panties down and off. "I've done worse, and would have had my slacks on over the top of them. But… I really do appreciate this." Once she had swapped them out, she glanced at the panties, then at him. "Hmm… would you care to hang onto these as collateral?"

"You want me to do your dirty laundry?" But despite the joke, he accepted the offer, taking the sopping wet pair in exchange. No one could exactly object to such a souvenir from a wonderful partner, especially when the remnants of her play were still on it. However…

"Just don't expect me to be wearing them if we do this again."

As she turned to go back to the kitchen, where her slacks were still somewhere on the floor, she smirked over her shoulder. "We'll see. On both counts."

#Black Tie #White Noise #qrowin #qrow x winter #rwby smut #rwbyremnants #nsfw-Text

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