#she didn’t actually yell but she was very firm and i was just sitting there internally screaming

[threnodians]

ngl i got very discouraged today because i’ve gained weight since the last time i visited the doctor about four weeks ago; i weighed in at 237 pounds today which is very not great but i just have to keep reminding myself that muscle weighs more than fat and also that all the physical activity i’ve been doing after rotting in bed for literally 6+ months isn’t going to magically make me skinnier within a single damn month 🥲

[anasanthology]

Always Close Your Tabs.

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please), step-cest, pseudo-incest, stepbrother/stepsister pairing, degradation kink, light face slapping, very light praise kink, Dom/Sub, lowkey Hard Dom!Leon Kennedy, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mean Leon (I feel he’s a little ooc), like one mention of breeding kink, we got a little sweet aftercare at the end, not as tame as other stuff I’ve written, fem-specific gendered terms. Not proofread.

Notes: FIRST LEON FIC I’M POSTING 😚 actually feeling kinda good about this one! I felt like finishing this and posting it today so here so go!!! I hope you like it ☺️ as always, likes and—especially—comments are very VERY much appreciated 😌 if you have any tags you think I should add just tell me cause I���m not sure if I missed any 🧐 ANYWAYS, enjoy, lovelies 💕

4.5k words | Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The couch was irritating you, you were hyper aware of it, the texture, the firmness, everything about it. It didn’t matter where you sat though, everywhere was irritating. Everything was irritating. Your parents were out of town on some dumb anniversary. No. Your parent and her husband. Leaving you home alone with your stepbrother.

 Leon. 

He was annoying. He was rude, crass, and bitchy. When your mom had told you she was seeing a guy you were happy for her, until she told you that he had a son a few months older than you. Other kids was the one dealbreaker for you, but your mom loved this man so much and you didn’t exactly have much time left to live with her. You could deal with it. So you met Leon, he didn’t talk the entire dinner but to introduce himself and then order something. This was 8 months ago.

Now you live with him.

You were sure that there were worse people to live with, like… Bundy or Dahmer maybe. He always had those loudmouth friends of his over. Chris, who would spend the whole time yelling at the tv and Luis, who would just flirt with you the whole time. The worst of it was that they would only hang out in the living room so you were always confined to your room till they left. That was unless you wanted to hear, ‘ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH ME,’ and, ‘Hola, señorita, ¿Qué pasa? You look gorgeous,’ which… you didn’t wanna hear that. Not to even mention how insufferable he was when they weren’t around. Which was the situation now. Sitting on the couch next to you was Leon Kennedy, staring up at the tv watching Desperate Housewives. He had this constant resting dick face that never seemed to go away, and along with that he also seemed to be followed by resting dick air everywhere he went. Especially now that his dad took away his phone and other electronics before your guys’ parents left for their trip. Because apparently that man cared jack shit for your sanity. Now, Leon was irritated. He was insufferable when he was irritated. It just radiated off of him and you were a porous permeable surface. You guys sat like that until…

“Can I use your laptop?”

“What?” You turned to him, his words bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Can I use your laptop?” He repeated himself.

“Uh… sure, I guess?” Shrugging you got off the couch before stopping in your tracks and pointing at him, “but I get to use your car!” Your eyes widen with excitement and you point at him.

“No, no way. You are not driving my car. Not gonna happen.” He huffed in amusement and shook his head.

“And why not?” Your hands went to your hips and you made a face.

“Because,” he mocks your tone, “you’ll crash it.”

“Says you! Leon, you are like the king of bad driving. You hit a tree last month! A tree! They don’t even move and they’ve been there for like years!” Your hands were flying everywhere at this point. You had your license, but since Leon was a little older and got his a little before you he got a car. And since he got a car—and only Jeff Bezos could comfortably pay for his car insurance—you didn’t get one, you had to share with your mom and stepdad. But since they were halfway across the country, you were stuck here.

“It was in my blind spot!”

“What about that mailbox last week? Or Ms. Anderson’s side mirror? Everything can’t be in your blind spot, Leon. That’s what windows are for.” you close your eyes and sigh, “you know what, I don’t care. Bottom line is, if you don’t let me drive your car, no laptop.” You knew you were reaching, but you didn’t care. It’s not like you lost anything if he said no. It wasn’t fair he got the car anyways, your mom promised you a year ago on your birthday that when you got your license she’d take you to a used car dealership and you could pick one. But apparently ‘situations change’ and ‘things don’t always go as planned’, so you were left having to explain to your friends that it actually wasn’t gonna happen. Leon could practically burn holes through your face with the way he was looking at you, honestly that’s probably what he was thinking about. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“Fine.” He opens his eyes and gives you just about the brattiest look imaginable. You just smile and giggle. Your eyes widened in surprise. You were not expecting him to actually say yes.

“Okay!” You practically sprint upstairs to your room, grabbing your laptop off the bed. You make your way back downstairs and bring it to him. “Here ya go!”

“Thanks.” He takes it with a scowl and gets up.

“Whaddya need it for anyways?”

“Because I wanna watch stuff.” He responds flatly.

“What kinds of stuff?” ‘Porn?’ Was your first thought, but you opted not to verbalize that. 

“Stuff you can’t watch on the tv?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?” You blinked at him.

“Because you’re watching the tv in here, dingus.” He didn’t look guilty. You know, like you would if you were gonna use your stepsister’s laptop to watch porn off of. He just looks annoyed. “Can I go watch some shit now or you gonna keep interrogating me, detective?”

“Jeez, moody. Sure, go.” You shoo him and turn back to the tv as you sit on the couch. He walks away to his room and you lay back covering your face with your arm. It felt like a weight had been lifted, the tension gone immediately. Part of you wanted to say it was just because he made the air so thick with irritation he could suffocate a room, but you knew that wasn’t completely true…

Leon was hot, like crazy hot.

It was frustrating being around that all day and night. Eating dinner across from an actual model… not easy. It was especially not easy when that model was a sarcastic asshole, and it was especially especially not easy when you kinda liked it. Yes every comment pissed you off, made you want to scream sometimes, punch a hole in the wall. but it also had you wondering… ‘would he… I mean in bed did he…’ god you hoped so. ‘Ew, no you didn’t.’ It was dumb—and entirely inappropriate—but that’s all you could think about when he was around. At some point all the irritation and hatred you had for him just living here, turned into… something you shouldn’t think about.

But who cares.

You didn’t have time to think about that. You had much more pressing matters to attend to, like… desperate housewives. You sit up and lay your body on top of your legs like you were folding yourself in half. You looked up at the screen and flipped onto your back kicking your legs over the back of the couch. It was like you just couldn’t get comfortable no matter what. 

“Mmmmmuuhhhhhh.” Sighing you sat back up like normal, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and onto your tired form. And then it hit you.

The computer.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Standing up abruptly you started making your way to Leon’s room, practically running up the stairs.

You were tired last night. Really, really tired.

So maybe, just maybe, you forgot to close out of a tab last night. Or maybe a couple. Besides it is your computer, why do you need to close out of anything? You don’t, or at least you don’t when your step brother isn’t using your computer.

“Leon, I need my computer.” You knocked at his door and turned the knob quickly. Locked, of fucking course. “Leon?” Bouncing around a little on the balls of your feet, impatiently you step back from the door and shake the tension out of your hands. ‘Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe he… didn’t even get on the computer yet. “Leon, I don’t… I don’t need your car. It’s fine, I asked Claire and she said she’d drive me this week.” His door opens like that’s exactly what he was waiting to hear.

“Okay, fine. Take it.” He steps away from the door and you walk inside, looking back at him you take extra attention to his expression. He definitely knows. You just turn back unable to think about that for too much longer, your face burning with heat as you pick up your laptop off of his bed. You feel a pair of hands snake around your waist and you tense up. “But first, I have to know why my slutty little sister thought it was a good idea to give me her laptop with porn open.” It was like your brain took a screenshot. ‘Did he just…’

“I don’t… Leon, I’m sorry. I didn’t-I forgot.”

“Oh you’re such a liar.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “No, I think you did it on purpose. You’re such a smart girl, I don’t believe you could be so stupid.” Your breath got heavier at his accusation.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I fell asleep ‘nd forgot it was on there.” He didn’t respond but his hands started running up and down your sides. “Leon, stop teasing me.” Your voice came out just a whiny whisper, sounding a lot more needy rather than urgent like you meant it.

“You know, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into that sort of stuff. Always get so nervous when Luis flirts with you, always get so flustered when people touch each other in a movie.” He was ignoring your request completely. “But it makes sense now, you get all shy cause you like it.” Your eyes widen and you squirm in his arms, not exactly trying to get away. Not really trying to get away at all actually. “Wonder how many times I’ve been sitting with you on the couch while your cunt gets all wet. So shameless, darling.” Your body is frozen in embarrassment, it’s kinda hot. ‘God. Don’t think like that Jesus.’

“No, never,” Liar. “Leon, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Yet you aren’t trying to stop me, are you?” His voice is so completely self assured and cocky. Asshole. It made you so wet. You aren’t trying to stop him. You don’t want him to stop, even though you should. He pulls his hands back a little for you, so that if you want to get out you can. Without as much internal protest as you’d hoped, you stay completely still. “See, I was right. You are just a little slut who wants to get touched by her stepbrother.” You visibly cringe at that but feel slick spill into your panties at his words.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” His hands go back around you, pulling you close to him. You could feel the outline of his hardened cock against you.

“Stop… being weird.” You shifted around in his arms.

“How am I being weird?” He snickered.

“Because you’re… stop saying it like that?” Your face was burning at this point. He was pushing up against you, pressing your hips against the edge of his bed.

“Saying it like what? Isn’t that exactly what’s going on? A dumb whore getting wet for her brother?”

“Leon.” His hand dipped down the front of your pants, running his finger down your clothed slit.

“Oh but why? It feels like you like it when I talk to you like that. I mean… given the videos you were watching, I bet you like it.” You pushed up against him. You just want him closer, it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong. He knew what he was doing, making you feel small, degrading you. “You do like it, fuck.” He started grinding himself against your back. You did like it, you wanted him to keep going, keep making you feel small.

“No it… Leon, it’s weird.”

“I know it is, but you like it. You like how depraved it makes you feel. You can’t deny it, I quite literally have seen the stuff you watch to get off.” He was laughing a little, it only amplified how hot and humiliating this was. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Everytime you’d roll your eyes when I’d tease you all I could think about was taking it further, pinning you against the counter or the couch and just telling you anything I could think of.”

“Thought you said you didn’t think I’d be into this?”

“You can be into anything I want you to in my fantasies.” His other hand snakes up to start running his thumb up and down the column of your throat. This really should not have such an effect on you, but it does. Your eyes flutter and you let out a soft needy breath as you lay your head back against him. “Oh you like that? You like that I just imagine you in any position I want?” You nod your head reluctantly. Your lips open and close but no sound comes out. He’s barely even touched you but it feels like your tongue is twisted up in your mouth. You can feel your resolve just slipping away the more he speaks to you, the more he touches you.

“Leon, this is… this is so wrong…” your voice comes out so quiet you aren’t sure he could hear you. Or maybe it’s just because the blood pounding in your ears is so loud that you can barely hear yourself.

“But you like that don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.” His finger travels further up to slide across your bottom lip. Involuntarily—you tell yourself—your lips part slightly. He just laughs softly behind you, the smirk that was undoubtedly plastered on his face was audible. “Does this slutty girl want something in her mouth? There you go…” he slides his finger past your lips and onto your tongue. His thumb starts pushing slow thrusts against your tongue. Your hands go to hold onto his forearm feebly, not trying to move or stop him but just needing something to hold onto. “Yeah? You like it when I finger your pretty little mouth?” You just whine and start sucking around his thumb. “Fuck, bet you’d do so good on my cock.” You turned around to face him.

It was stupid, and you don’t know why you did it… yes you do, liar.

“What?” He grinned down at you. Now being able to see your lips around his thumb he couldn’t get enough of it. You knew you were turned on but holy shit you weren’t expecting him to look like… that. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were lidded. A light blush dusts his cheeks. God he looked good. You imagined you probably looked something similar, probably worse. “I asked you a question.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and slides it down your chin and across your neck. ‘Oh, right.’

“I um… can I?” You swallowed heavily, barely able to focus on your words with his fingers rubbing at your soft skin.

“‘Can you’ what?” He just laughs, he can tell you’re struggling. Your face heats up with embarrassment realizing just how fuck-drunk you already are. And then he just gets the cockiest look on his face. “Oh, you wanna suck my cock? That what this is?” You just nod weakly, you couldn’t deny it if you tried. “Hmm? I can’t hear you, what do you want?”

“I wanna…” you swallow thickly, “I wanna suck your cock, please.” You chewed on the inside of your lip and just looked at him. He felt like he could just about cum from how needy your voice sounded when you said ‘please’.

“Fuck,” his hand slide up your neck and went to the back of your head. “I know you do. Now get on your knees.” His hand tangled in your hair right up against your scalp and he tightened his grip a little, pulling your head back ever so slightly in the process. The way he was talking to you, how he was treating you, all like you were just some object for his pleasure… fuck, it made you wet. If this situation could possibly get any worse from you guys just doing anything at all in the first place, getting turned on from your stepbrother degrading and objectifying you would definitely make it worse. You moaned softly when he pulled your hair as you started to kneel down in front of him slowly, struggling to resist the urge of responding ‘yes, sir.’ When your knees were on the ground and you finally stopped shifting around to get as comfortable as possible you finally realized the position you were in.

You were on your knees in front of your stepbrother about to suck him off…

But at this point, all thought or consideration of morality and shame had long been lost on you. Instead the lewdness of the situation only fueled the fire and part of you was just getting off on how wrong this was. You felt filthy and all it did was make you want to continue. ‘Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?’, would be what you’d typically be thinking. And you were, just less in a self-deprecating way and more in a self-humiliation way. You bite your lip at the site in front of you, Leon’s clothed hard cock in his gray sweatpants. He had noticed how fixated you were and tilted his head at you with a smirk. 

“You want it?” You just stared up at him and moved your hands up to his thighs as you slid them up. “I asked you a question, answer me.” He pulled your hair a little harder this time and you moaned a little louder.

“Yes, wan’ it, Leon, please.” You were completely breathless. It had felt like your mind had turned to mush. You hadn’t even registered his question as a question when he asked, you just wanted to touch him.

“Yeah, I know.” He pushed your head forward till your cheek was pressed up against his cock. “Pretty little cockwhore just wants me inside her.” Your breath quickened when he started grinding up against your face. “Or she just wants to feel me however I please.” His voice was teasing now and he just ground down against you harder.

“However you please, just… Leon, need you.” You barely even sounded like yourself anymore. Normal you would have just pushed him away in the beginning as you made your second-hand embarrassment apparent. Normal you would have known that that was one of the easiest ways to mess with someone and would have totally used it. But here you were instead, a strong-willed smart girl who never pulled any punches now on her knees getting debased completely and absolutely loving it.

“Mmm, you’ll let me use you however I want? What if this is how I wanna do it? What if I just wanna take my cock out and rub it against your face till I cum all over you?” Even in this state you knew he was trying to trap you. He wanted to get you to disagree so he could hear you begging for whatever you really wanted. But you wouldn’t disagree, cause you don’t.

“Even then, just anything you want.” He grinned at your reply. He was tempted, he really was, but after wanting you for so long he wasn’t gonna waste this chance just to prove a point. ‘Next time.’ He pulls your head back just a little so he can see your face. Your lips are slightly parted and you just stare up at him with a grazed over expression.

“Take it out.” He says firmly and raises his eyebrows. You look down at his crotch and bring your hands up to take his dick out of his pants. You feel a sudden sting on your cheek as he slaps you across the face. “No, look at me.” He grabs your jaw and tilts your face up towards his. You make eye contact with him as you start undoing the string on his sweatpants. Part of you wants to look away just so that he’ll slap you again but you don’t. You start pulling his sweatpants and underwear down till his cock swings free. Your eyes dart down to his dick and are only able to just barely register what you’re seeing before he slaps you again just a little harder. “Did you not hear what I said to you? Look. At. Me.” You moan softly and shake your head.

“I heard you, ‘m sorry I was just curious.” You sound a little like you’re about to cry but you’re far from sad about all this.

“You’re curious?” He mocks your voice and pouts his lip before scoffing and leaning down ever so slightly. His thumb caressing your neck. “Don’t worry, once I fuck this little throat you’ll have every answer you could possibly ask for.” You shudder a little before just nodding your head and opening your mouth. You loll your tongue out and he grins. “Yeah, stay like that.” He slaps his heavy tip on your tongue and you can taste the bitterness of his pre-cum. “Open wider.” You obey him and open your mouth further. He leans forward and spits in your mouth. Your eyes flutter and you press your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “You like that?” He laughs and rubs one of his fingers over your tongue. “You like it when I spit in your mouth? Fucking disgusting.” He grips his cock and guides it onto your tongue before pushing into your mouth. He groans and holds your head back against the side of his bed before he starts thrusting into your mouth. “Mmm, fuck. Such a good girl with a slutty little mouth. What would your friends say if they knew you’re getting face fucked by your stepbrother, and loving it so much you’re practically dripping onto the floor? What would your mom say?” You really didn’t wanna think about his second question.

“Mmm.” You just hum around his cock in response and he smirked. It’s not like you could actually respond. You kept your eyes on him, loving the way his jaw tightened when he hit the back of your throat. Or the way the muscles in his arms would twitch and flex under his tight shirt. He was right, you did love this and you could feel the discomfort of your sticky panties between your thighs, damp and uncomfortable. His hand went to the top of your head to grip your hair between his fingers and he started pushing in faster.

“Mmh, oh fuck… love sucking on your big brothers cock, yeah? Such a fucking cockwhore it doesn’t matter who it’s from.” He was thrusting at a fervent pace and it was evident he was just chasing his own high. Using your mouth as his personal fleshlight to fuck and fill. It was hot being treated like this, especially by Leon. He tightened his hold on your hair and pushed in a little too far which made you choke. It made slick pour into the gusset of your panties. Fuck, he was right. You’re a total slut. Your hands went up to hold onto his thighs for support as your eyes closed. Spit drooled down your chin and onto your chest, tears poured down your cheeks which Leon took pleasure in wiping away. “Maybe next time you’ll let me fuck that pretty pussy. Bet she’s just crying for me, you are.” ‘Next time?’ The thought made your skin burn with arousal. “Think you’re gonna let me fill up all your holes. Fuck. Yeah, I wanna see that. My obedient little stepsister leaking cum onto my bed, absolutely spent. Such a fucking whore you’d probably ask me to do it again. Fuck your little pussy till it’s sloppy and bred.” 

He wasn’t even looking at you. His head tilted back and his hips stuttered. You could tell he was getting close.

“I’m gonna cum down this slutty throat and you’re gonna swallow it all and thank me.” His face and neck were a little red and he had this sheen of sweat that the light from his lamp bounced off of. He looked like some kind of angel and if he wasn’t aggressively fucking your face you might’ve actually believed he was. “Fuck, oh take it.” He moaned and pushed his cock to the back of your throat. You could feel his hot cum paint stripes into your mouth. He rutted his tip right against the back of your throat while he moaned and mumbled. “Good girl, good girl. Take it, baby.” He pulled back out of your mouth and looked down at you while he stroked himself a few times to make sure he was done. A little bit of cum spilled from his tip and onto your thigh. You could finally swallow now that he was out of your mouth and god it felt good. You opened your mouth to show him that you really did it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him softly and he shuddered at your words. He looked away from you and cursed as his face got red. He was just talking earlier; he didn't think you’d actually do it.

“Quit it, you’re gonna make me hard again.” He seemed a little embarrassed. He moved your hair out of your face and went to the bathroom across the hall. You heard water running for a bit and then he came back and kneeled in front of you. He silently used a warm rag to wipe away the dried tears from your face and the little bit of cum that spilled onto your chin. “There you go.” 

“Thank you.” He wiped away the bit that was on your thigh and you guys just stared at each other for a second. It wasn’t really awkward but more like each of you had something to say that you just wouldn’t. 

He leaned forward and kissed you. It was soft and sweet and you had plenty of room to move away if you didn’t want it. There was such a contrast from what you were doing now and what you had been doing, hell, how he was acting with you now and how he had always acted with you; it felt like it was short circuiting your brain, but in a good way. He pulled back and set the rag on his bedside table before picking you up and setting you on his bed. He crawled in next to you and put his arms around you. It felt a little weird but in a nice comforting way. It was something you really needed. You almost forgot that you had been sucking him off—if you could even call it that—like two minutes ago. You really weren’t tired but you laid there with him for who knows how long. 

Maybe you really didn’t hate having a stepbrother.

[decentishoutsidersthoughts]

do you have any headcanons for the gang's reaction to each of them getting their first dates?

like high school darry and his gaggle of younger friends being all up in his business or omg the first time ponyboy has a date I just know that poor boy is gonna have a red face from all the teasing and talks he gets

I love this it’s so funny, enjoy

Darry

I hc that his first date was a girl on the cheerleading team. He didn’t rly like her very much but he was a sophomore in high school so he thought he did of course.

He was the first one to get a serious girlfriend. Soda Steve and Two-Bit, who had just gotten old enough to care about girls idolized him even more than they previously had. Soda would come into Darry’s room and sit on his bed and ask him all sorts of questions because he just wanted to know.

Darry for a few weeks kind of had that thing where he got a girlfriend and forgot he had friends, so Two-Bit was understandably salty about that but Darry got over it fast and after that Two-Bit just teased him a lot

Dally did not give two shits. He saw Darry getting a cheerleader girlfriend as more of him straying from the gang. If he was still showing up to school he was side eyeing them in the hallways 24/7

Johnny was too scared of girls to be really jealous, but he was also a little curious. But he pretended to be apathetic to it cause Ponyboy was a HATER. In his mind this random cheerleader was making Darry spend even less time at home than he normally did and he was pissed. Also he’s like 9 and probably still thinks girls have cooties 💀

Soda

His first real girlfriend was freshman year. I’m of the firm belief that he has TERRIBLE taste in women and this was the first time it really showed

Darry and Two-Bit both didn’t like Soda’s girlfriend and they’d talk a lot of shit about it. But Darry was letting Sofa handle himself and hoping be would EVENTUALLY stop letting his girlfriend treat him bad and then go find a nice girl. Neither of those rly happened-

Steve hated Soda’s girlfriend with a PASSION. It was the only time him and Ponyboy got along because their hatred was so visceral it brought them together. Steve was lowkey mostly just jealous but it helped that she was mean as hell

Dally and Johnny weren’t THAT involved. Both of them stopped showing up to school by then and it wasn’t a shock that Soda had a girlfriend nor that it was a…weird relationship. Dally was surprised that Soda didn’t rly end up having commitment issues tho

Ponyboy

I feel so bad for this man when he gets a girlfriend. I’ve seen a lot of people say that Darry would be insanely strict about him dating. I don’t think so, he has bigger battles. Especially post canon when he’s trying to give Ponyboy the same amount of freedom he and Soda enjoyed when they were his age. (Possibly even more because let’s be real Ponyboy is the good quiet kid of that family-)

However that doesn’t save him from teasing. Two-Bit is the worst ofc (and Dally if we count them as alive but for the sake of this we won’t). Steve also participates but he’s kind of just an asshole. He tried to purposely give Ponyboy bad advice but then Soda yelled at him so he stopped 🧍‍♀️

Speaking of Soda this man was giving all sorts of unsolicited advice. Ponyboy pretends to listen but in his head he’s like ‘every single relationship you’ve been in with a girl has ended horrendously-‘. He listens to Soda's advice when it comes to flirting and getting girls to like him, but he just asks Darry for advice with the actual relationship stuff 

Johnny

Let’s pretend he’s alive for a minute. His first relationship is the only one that doesn’t crash and burn within 6 months. The gang is honestly flabbergasted that he’s pulling better than the rest of them 😭😭😭😭

Tbh they’re all rly wary at first. Especially Dally and Soda (Dally cause he’s Dally and Soda cause he’s still a lil sore from Sandy). The only one not rly freaked out is Ponyboy

Ponyboy either loves Johnny’s girlfriend or hates her. No in between. They’re either besties or he preys on her downfall. He third wheels them everywhere regardless tho. He’s like their practice kid.

Dally and Steve definitely threatened her 💀

Darry’s also wary but once again he has other things to worry about. He does keep track of their relationship tho so he’ll be ready to do damage control if they break up (he does that with everyone but he does it more with Johnny cause he knows from experience the longer the relationship lasts the worse the breakup is)

I don’t have many thoughts on the other three ngl. I think the gang is kinda just like ‘that happened’. Other than Soda being a massive hype man for Steve (until he gets jealous tee hee)

[agentmarvel]

Pairing: John Price/Reader

AU - Professor!Price & TA!Reader

MDNI - 18+ (minors and ageless blogs WILL BE BLOCKED)

Part 2 of 2 (part 1 here)

Read on ao3

♡

Kate Laswell is the only person John tells about you. It’s her guidance he seeks when he realizes how far up the creek without a paddle he is. Figures you have your confidant, he may as well assume his own. He’s known her longer than anyone else, and he knows she knows all the loopholes, since she faced a vaguely similar situation a few semesters before. All worked out well for her, so there’s hope for him, too, right?

John sits in her office, door locked and lights off. It’s safer that way; far less potential for eavesdroppers and interruptions.

“Oh, you’re in deep on this one, Price,” Kate chides with a grin over the edge of her coffee mug.

“That’s putting it mildly. What am I supposed to do here, Kate? It feels like every decision I make is wrong.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me about her,” she implores as she takes a sip, a soft smile etched into her fine-lined features.

He ponders for a moment on where to start, but when the dam breaks, it all just spills out. Nothing and everything, all at once. He tells Kate how fucking beautiful he thinks you are, all the things he absolutely adores about you, even the tiny little details, like your stupid red pen and the time he saw you yell at a vending machine on a bad day. He tells her about the way you work so well with students, and how helpful you are to him; what a stellar conversationalist you are, but how well you listen as well. He tells her about how you always make him laugh, how reassuring and kind and caring you are, how you really are every single thing he’s ever wanted rolled into one singular being, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that very thing since -

“You’re falling in love, aren’t you?”

“Aw, hell, Kate… What kind of pubescent horseshit - ”

“Answer the question, John.”

“Kate - “

“Yes or no, Price.” Her voice is firm but friendly, telling him to cut the shit and at least consider the possibility.

In a stunned silence, John sits with his thoughts for a moment, eyes locked on Kate as she cocks an eyebrow. He thinks back on his short-lived first marriage, how that the military was both the beginning and end of it. Felt more like convenience and holding off loneliness in his time between deployments than it ever did truly being in love. The second, while lasting exponentially longer, also felt equally as devoid. While he cared for that second wife on some level, it didn’t quite reach the depth of how he feels now, how he feels about you. If neither bout rang of actual, genuine emotional connection, then he can say with absolute honesty that, no, John Price has never really been in love. Not until now.

Everything around him seems to slow to a stop. He can no longer hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, only the rhythmic pounding in his chest. It’s like a switch is flicked, and the lightbulb in his head brightens until it bursts, sending fragments flying into every corner. He’s not stupid enough to try to touch that filament, so he allows it to settle. In a haze of falling glass, suddenly it all makes sense to him again. A revelation that he can’t tamp down now that it’s been put into words.

“...yeah, I think I am.”

Every nerve in his body is alight, begging him to scream it from the rooftops, make sure the whole world knows. 

He can’t yet, but he wants to.

“Christ,” he mutters instead, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve gone and fucked all this up, haven’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Kate muses, tucking an errant blonde strand behind her ear before folding her empty hands together on the desktop. “I mean, you did reject the poor girl at a very opportune - not to mention vulnerable - moment…” She sighs. “But I don’t think you’re completely beyond the realm of forgiveness. Find the right way to apologize to her, and she may start to let you back in.”

He’s unusually hesitant. Apologies have never been his strong suit. He’s painfully headstrong, rarely wrong and rarer to admit, so this is new territory. Mentally, he ticks off all the clichés, like flowers or a box of chocolates with a little card of a briefly expressed remorse or a surprise picnic where he spills his guts to you in hopes of some form of clemency. He wants to plan something bigger, more grandiose, more romantic, but Kate interjects before he can even begin.

“I can see the gears turning. Stop overthinking it, John. Just buy the girl some damn flowers, and tell her you’re sorry.”

♡

He did it. Bought you flowers, that is. Early this morning, he picked up a big fall arrangement in a stunning crystal vase. Took him way too fucking long to choose and he was almost late, but John’s pretty sure it’ll all be worth the look on that gorgeous face of yours when you see it. He takes his time placing it perfectly on your desk, giving you the fullest view upon first sight, and he tucks a little white envelope under the edge of the glass. 

It took quite a bit of time for him to even write the note inside. He wanted to convey how he feels without dragging out a full confession of just how hopelessly head-over-heels he is; that goal seemed to fall short beneath the tip of the pen as he all but outright tells you he loves you in neatly corded letters. The words on the page felt sufficient at the time, and he has to shut himself in his office to stop himself from second guessing to the point of re-writing it or just throwing it away period.

When the light kicks on in your office a few minutes after the start of his day, John feels his stomach flip. He hears a striking thud and a gasp of ‘aww’, and he’s cursing inwardly that he just had to have a student come in right at 8:00. After a few beats of silence, he hears a couple sniffles, and it has him a bit worried. Mr. Garrick would probably be understanding if he wanted to pop in and check on you, but he continues to talk to John like he doesn’t notice it, even if his expression softens just a little and his eyes dart to the side each time he hears it, too.

“So, does this mean you’re looking forward to finishing it?” John asks in earnest. Kyle had been quite vocal all semester about how much he was looking forward to exploring Stephen King’s Carrie, especially with it falling right around Halloween. It’s been a long time since John’s seen anyone but you get excited about his choice novels, even if they do tend to change every year.

“I actually, uh, finished it last week,” Kyle admits shyly. “Honestly, I just couldn’t put it down. I couldn’t just stop at her turning around to go home after all the shit she blew up! I needed to know what happened next, so I read ahead.”

Well, there’s no way John can be upset about that. It’s not every day one of these kids expressed interest in anything they’re reading. More often than not, they bitch about the amount of reading - if they even do it, that is. He can always tell the students that use Cliffs Notes or Sparknotes instead of actually doing the reading. So, the fact that Kyle, even just one student, is genuinely enjoying it - no, genuinely looking forward to reading more - seems to make all the work John’s put into this semester worth the while.

They go back and forth for a while, discussing the thematic elements and John details the rationale behind the novel’s subsequent banning in a majority of American schools. It’s a long geekfest between the two of them, and the only disruption is Mr. Garrick’s sudden realization that he’d stayed far too long and was late for his class.

“Thanks again, Professor Price!” he chirps, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m really looking forward to what’s next!”

He darts out of the room, practically slamming the door behind him. John cringes as the latch bounces into the frame, and he sighs heavily, grateful for today’s break in his normally hectic schedule. Only two students on his books today; one of which is already out of the way, the other not until this afternoon. Gives him time to do more overthinking while he waits for you to free up. 

Settling himself further into his chair, John logs into his desktop and starts inputting grades from last week. Keeping his hands busy will help in keeping his mind busy, considering the small second voice in your office. From the sounds of it, it’s Ms. Graves.

It fascinates him, the way the two of you interact. You speak with her much differently than the other students who occupy your days without classes. There’s a much more candid sense of honesty, and he’s never heard either of you speak with such raw enthusiasm.

“What about ’Lullaby’ by the Cure?” he hears Pia ask.

“Good choice; how about Echo & the Bunnymen’s ‘the Killing Moon’?” you respond. He hears a hum of consideration, a few exchanged whispers - and some laughter - and that gets his attention.

Yeah, fuck it. He’s too invested in eavesdropping now to continue to pretend to be busy.

He hears the exchange of several more artists: the Cramps, Electric Light Orchestra, Prince, Oingo Boingo, the Doors, Bowie, Blondie, Siouxsie and the Banshees; all of which strike him with a baton of nostalgia. Lots of favorites in there, especially music he enjoyed growing up; some of his father’s top choices, too.. He’s only marginally impressed that the two of you can volley like this; you do enjoy 90s boy bands, after all. Bound to know plenty, eh?

Speaking of which, he hears Pia thank you for your suggestions. Her backpack rattles as he’s sure she’s tossing it on her shoulder, and he hears your office door close. He’s pretty certain you’ll have another appointment coming in soon, so he takes the opportunity to pop over.

“What was that about?” he asks from the now open doorway, expression curious. You look up from your laptop and smile more sincerely than he’s observed in a while, and John sees that big bouquet sitting front and center on your desk. That stirs his stomach and wakes the butterflies, fresh from the cocoons he’d tried to build over the weekend. They flutter this way and that, and he’s filled with a renewed desire to kiss you; one that never wanes, but ebbs and flows in intensity. Right now? Oh, right now, he wants to so god damn bad…

“Pia learns better with music. She listens while she reads, and it helps her remember the content when she listens to it again. Her grade has improved a lot since we started making playlists together.”

It sends a wave of warmth through his chest, the thought that you’ve been doing this for a few weeks. You’re arguably more dedicated to his students than he is at times, which says quite a bit. He’s pretty sure the look on his face matches up to those cartoons a lot of his students watch - what’s it called? Oh! Anime! He looks like every character that’s ever seen food or a pretty girl - heart eyes, pink cheeks, and an open mouth bordering on drooling.

“We sit down together at the start of every unit and make a playlist that matches the decade. Helps keep her centered in the story and prevents overlap so no information bleeds over from another book. It’s remarkable, reading her work and seeing her test scores; she’s really flourishing, Professor Price.”

John’s awestruck.

“Oh! Can I ask a favor?” Your inquiry draws his eyebrow up, implying you may ask. “Would you be willing to let her listen to music during the final? I’m willing to go old school, if you’re worried she’ll cheat; I have an old iPod at home that I can load up with the music, and we can keep it locked in your office until then. You’re welcome to go through it, too, just to make sure nothings hidden or anything. I just really - “

“Hey,” John says softly, effectively silencing you. “If you think she’ll do better being allowed to listen to music, we can make that work, love. I trust your judgment.”

If the incoming is any indicator, the flowers were the right call. You’re thawing, spring seemingly on its way, and Price will have to send Kate some sort of gift of gratitude.

You leap from your desk, and the next thing he knows, you’re throwing your arms around his neck, giving him a tight squeeze. He doesn’t register what’s happening in time to wrap himself around you, palms rising to meet you a beat too slow, and he finds himself missing the warmth radiating from your skin as you step back just as quickly. Your hands clasp in front of your chest, and you’re positively beaming.

“Thank you, Professor! I… We really appreciate it. Pia is going to be so happy!”

He can’t fight off the smile on his face. It’s absolutely adorable when you get excited; you’re wearing the same expression as the day he agreed to dance with you. He refuses to let this end the same way, so he takes a different path.

“She seems different with you,” he notes aloud. “Definitely not the same Ms. Graves I see in class.”

“Oh, I, uh… I know her pretty well outside of class. I… dated her brother for a while when I was doing my undergrad work.” You don’t seem too pleased to admit the latter, judging by your expression and the sudden appearance of nerves. He’d be lying if he said he was pleased to hear it. His stomach gnarls itself at the mere thought of you being with anyone else. To consider that someone else has kissed you, touched you, made love to you; that’s enough to make him crazy if he dwells on it too long. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s under no illusion that you’re some sort of saint, even if just the sound of your voice is pure heaven. You’ve spoken about your dating history before, though it’s typically just in overheard fragments to Mr. MacTavish.

“How long?” He wants to clap a hand over his mouth, but it’s too late. The words came out, and he can’t take them back or play it off like he isn’t actually curious. Instead, he stays still, hoping the look on his face reads as if this is friendly conversation and not him prying where he oughtn’t.

You seem surprised by his question, and his blood floods with panic.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he quickly throws out, raising his hands. “I’m so sorry; that was inappropriate.”

“Two years.” You shrug like it’s nothing, and John swallows his gum by accident. He wasn’t expecting that. Maybe a few dates, a couple months tops, but two years? Doesn’t seem possible for a guy like Phillip Graves to sustain a relationship that long, given his penchant for obnoxiously blatant flirtation and his wandering gaze, practically eye-fucking anything with a pulse.

"What happened?" Fuck it. He's going to be a Nosy Nellie. It’s selfish and shady, but he can learn a lot from this. Come hell or high water, he swears he’ll treat you better. He’ll take the lessons learned from lesser men’s fallacies (and/or women’s; he’s got some questions after the last conversation he eavesdropped on between you and Johnny).

“He couldn’t seem to stop flirting with other people, and I’m pretty sure he loved his car more than he ever loved me.” Your laugh is dry and humorless, but your wry smile does extend to your eyes. That tells him you’re over it. The hurt you may have felt when it happened doesn’t linger. Good news for John.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replies, trying his best to be sympathetic. You shrug again.

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t still feel bad that it happened. You deserve better than that.”

He wants to tell you what you really deserve; how you deserve a man, not a man-child. You deserve a man who’s going to take good care of you, worship you, love you selflessly. Someone who will make you breakfast, warm up your car for you in the winter, hold your hand every chance they get. Someone who only has eyes for you. Someone like John.

But he can’t say that, so he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I do,” you agree with a nod. “Know someone who wants to treat me right?”

You say it with a laugh, and John smiles hesitantly, choosing his next words carefully.

“Yeah, I think I might.”

“Oh, yeah? Anybody I know?” It’s coy and cute. You know exactly what he means; he has a feeling you just want to hear him say it. I’d treat you right, honey. Let me show you. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth, giving you a look that feels way too suggestive for the current environment.

“Yeah. I think you know him pretty well, actually,” he shrugs, nonchalantly holding his expression. “He’d be good to you.”

“Well, slip him my number, would ya? I could do with a nice date night soon.” You throw him a wink before turning back to your laptop, and John slowly slinks back into his office. Before he can close the door, you call for him again. He pops his head back in and sees his white envelope held up between your index and middle fingers, the flap torn open.

“Thank you for the flowers, sir. They’re beautiful.”

♡

There’s a rule in film: if you mention a gun in the first act, it must go off in the second. That’s not directly how the quote itself goes and this most certainly isn’t a film, but it still rings true.

It was only a matter of time before the proverbial gun went off, now that Price has inquired into your history with Phillip Graves. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon, though. Only a week passes before the soon-to-be-graduate rears his ugly little head.

“Oh, feminism, huh?”

The voice comes from your office, sultry and low, just barely within a range for John to hear it. His skin prickles, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He knows that voice; it’s the very one that’s haunted him for days now, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and holding you close in a way John is desperate to, but cannot yet. It’s Graves, the little prick, and that makes him nauseous.

You’re trying your hardest to explain the running theme of feminism in Carrie with the unit coming to a close, and Phillip’s ignoring the help you offer in favor of instead taking certain liberties with twisting everything you say into some sort of line or innuendo. Like that would ever work on you; you’re too smart not to see through that bullshit. You shut him down every time and ask him to focus on the material so you don’t have to deal with him next semester.

Still, it wrenches John’s gut in a way that bleeds him of his patience. He meant it when he said you deserve better than Phillip, and after the things you told him, there’s no fucking way he’s letting that weasel worm his way back in. You would never, he knows, but he doesn’t want Phillip having even the slightest sliver of hope.

Before he can stop himself, he’s knocking at the dividing door.

“Come in,” you call sweetly. He opens the door and sticks his head in, plastering the kindest, fakest smile on his face. You return the look as Graves sucks at his teeth, looking markedly impatient and making his irritation known.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” John says, syrup seeping into his tone. “But I think I might have accidentally deleted my gradebook. Can I borrow you for two quick seconds?”

“Of course,” you answer, tone laced with a bit more haste than either man apparently anticipated. “Excuse me just a moment, Mr. Graves. I’ll be right back in.”

You stand and push in your chair, making John’s stomach leap in the process. You’ve got on that burnt orange corduroy skirt that hugs your hips the way he’d someday like his hands to do and a plain, black, long sleeve top that matches the cling. It does nothing to disguise your perfect figure, his ideal figure, thrusting his erratically-beating heart into his throat entirely involuntarily. He never forgets how beautiful you are, not even for a second, but the visual reminders are always welcome.

He can feel the relief rolling off you in waves. Your expression stays neutral as you smooth out your skirt. There’s a gentle sway in your steps as you round the desk and follow John into his office. As he closes the door gently, you bee-line for his computer. A few clicks, and you look to him over your shoulder, perplexed, while he moves to stand behind you.

“Professor, your gradebook is fine. It’s right here.” You point at the monitor, and John nods.

“I know.”

“Then why - “ 

The words die on your tongue as John’s hands delicately close around the curve of your jaw. He hears the softest hitch in your breathing as he leans forward, half-lidded eyes searching your expression for any indicator that you want him to stop. He owes you that much.

“I should’ve done this weeks ago,” he murmurs, stroking a thumb across your cheek.

“John, what are you - “

His lips crash into yours, mouths meshing together like pieces of a puzzle, a perfect fit. It feels like centuries he’s waited for this moment, and the fire it spurs in his soul feels only comparable to the sun, licking up his throat like a solar flare.

You’re hesitant at first, rightfully so, but it doesn’t last long before that flame of desire kindles within you, and you melt into him, body molding to his. A particular breadth of warmth spreads across his chest as your hands come to rest against it. The tips of your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in your fist as you tug him impossibly closer. He’ll take the time to map and memorize every inch of you when he isn’t so consumed by the way you move in tandem without faltering as you become so wholly entangled with each other.

As his arms ensnare your waist in a vise-like hold, one of your hands, so soft and kind, nails painted a pretty shade of plum, threads itself into his hair. John has to bite down to stop himself from outright moaning into your mouth, the favored fantasy that often played out while he masturbated seemingly coming to life just in one movement. Your lower lip somehow gets trapped between his teeth, though, and you are the one to moan, hushed and soft, just for him to hear. 

Fuck, if that doesn’t fuel the fire inside his abdomen. He’ll do anything, any-fucking-thing, to hear that sound again and again and again.

He walks you backwards until he feels the edge of his desk pressing against your backside. The hold he had on your waist is abandoned in favor of assuming a sturdy grip on the back of your soft thighs. No warning is given when he suddenly lifts you, depositing you on the top of his desk. He slots himself between your knees and leans over you, still wrapped in this heated exchange. The tip of your tongue flickers against his only briefly, and it makes him borderline feral with want.

Your thighs get one little squeeze before John lands one hand on your back and the other just below your ear. He guides you down until he’s practically laying on top of you. Instinct guides your legs to hitch over his hips, and he’s well aware that you can feel the growing bulge in his slacks pressing up against your covered center. He ruts into you feverishly and mindlessly, desperately chasing another of those sweet little noises.

He almost whines when he feels you pulling away from him, mouths separating only for you to press your forehead against his. There’s an attempt to reconnect on his behalf, but you decline with the softest whisper of his name.

“John, there’s still a student in my office.” He can feel the smile on your lips as he moves to your neck. His lips seal over a spot where he can feel your pulse racing. It sends more blood south, having even the slightest inkling that you’re just as affected as he is, and he struggles to stave off the urge to rip a hole in the middle of your pantyhose and see just how affected you are.

“So?” he grunts, nose nudging your ear lobe as he lowers his voice more. “Let the little bastard sit there. Let him hear how a real man treats a fuckin’ prize like you.”

You swat his chest playfully, chiding him for encouraging you to shirk your responsibilities; the responsibilities assigned to you by him, no less. Your thighs squeeze his midsection again when you guide his face back to yours, stealing another peck before holding his gaze with a softer expression.

“He’s a nightmare, I know, but he’s still paying for a quality education. Just give me ten minutes to wrap this up, and I’m all yours.”

I’m all yours - those three simple words loop in his head, a phrase he’s ached for, longed to hear, for months. His heart clenches at the thought; summer nights on the porch swing, his hand on your thigh while he drives, letting you fall asleep on his chest. He wants it all. He wants every inch of love and affection you can offer and wants to give his in return. In this moment, the way you’re looking at him through your lashes, it’s so sorely tempting to say three different words back. He can’t yet, but he wants to.

“I hate to seem impatient, love, but I don’t think I can wait another ten minutes.” His thumb strokes across your cheek endearingly, and just beneath his finger tips, he can feel your heartbeat hammering away. “Don’t know how I ever lasted a minute without you now that I’ve got little taste of ya.”

You let him kiss you again, chaste and tender, a stark contrast to the frenzy he felt in the minutes before.

“You always been such a sweet-talker, Price?” you whisper with a grin, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. He huffs out a muted laugh, trying to stifle his amusement. “Keep it up, and I might just let you keep me.”

John’s quiet a moment, basking in your borderline ethereal glow, before he murmurs, “I like the sound of that.”

A beat passes, appreciative and intimate glances exchanged, the two of you sharing breath. Oh, how hard-pressed he is to move, to allow the contact to dissipate, to willingly let you out of his arms, his sight, to shoo away the little leech awaiting on the other side of the door. It’s unfathomable, in his mind. Months of waiting, weeks of agonizing, and now that he’s got you exactly where he wants you, he has to let you go for even a second? Inconceivable. Preposterous.

With a gentle palm against his chest, though, you manage to convince him. He wraps his fingers around yours and lifts himself off of you with a checked grunt. God, you look beautiful like this - splayed out across the top of his desk, skirt rucked up higher than would be decent to make room for his large frame to slot between your thighs, chest rising and falling steadily, though you still seem breathless. The sight alone requires him to reach down with his unoccupied hand and adjust his stiff length just to make the wait bearable.

He pulls you to your feet, still careful to keep you close to him. Graceful touches follow as he helps you right your hair and smooth out your clothing. When nothing wayward is left to stall, you press your lips to his one more time and turn on your heel, eyes promising a swift return as he plants himself back in his chair.

♡

It doesn’t go further than that for the remaining weeks of the semester, but that doesn’t mean Price isn’t counting down the days. While there’s still plenty of heated makeout sessions and aggressively building sexual tension, he finds other ways to show his affection in the interim; he brings you coffee every morning, walks you to your car after hours because it gets dark out far earlier in the winter, sets the heater in the lecture hall a few degrees higher than he’d like to ensure you’re comfortable throughout classes.

Restraint is gentlemanly. Just because he’s no longer deterring himself from chasing you doesn’t mean he’s willing to forgo all the rules. Though he’s following his heart down a path that leads straight to you, his stubbornness won’t allow him to jeopardize your future. Plausible deniability until you’re safely under the tutelage of another professor.

He discussed the transfer with you long before requesting it. You were surprisingly amenable to making the change once John made it clear that it wasn’t based on your performance. He adores you, admires the work you’ve put in for both him and his students, and he’d be remiss if he let you think for a second that you’ve been anything less than perfect.

No, no. He only broached the subject in hopes of fostering the seed you’d planted months ago. The little seed that is only now peeking through the topsoil. A burgeoning affair of the heart that he’s hoping to see blossom into something far more beautiful very soon, something you can grow together. He’s already fully committed to making sure it gets plenty of water and sunshine, but having you remain his TA would flood the garden and keep the skies cloudy. Nothing could flourish unhindered that way. 

That’s not quite how he phrased it to you, though. He still plays his cards close to his chest and has yet to confess the full extent of his feelings. You’ve off-handedly mentioned bits and pieces of your near future plans - plans that John’s certainly a part of - but any discussion about where your entanglement is headed beyond stolen kisses has been… unclear. He’s not a presumptuous man. It’s not his place to assume you’re on the same page, to assume you want an actual relationship with him.

So, to avoid the pressure of expectations or labels, he simply said, “I’d feel better about seeing where this goes if you were under another instructor. It would be unfair of me to ask you to wait another semester. You don’t deserve to be kept a secret, love.”

The request was put in shortly after, though Simon had already signed off on it over a week before John even mentioned it to you.

He only briefly second guesses that decision seeing you now, hovering in the doorway between offices. You look as beautiful as always, sporting a simple, sensible sweater dress that accentuates your delightfully buxom figure. What’s unusual is the mournful smile on your lips and the banker’s box in your hands.

Your watery eyes, swimming with unshed tears, scan over his office. You sigh heavily through your nose, biting your lip to stop it from quivering. John is immediately thrust into comfort mode, ready to soothe whatever savage beast has upset you so. 

“What’s the matter, sweet girl?” he asks softly, pushing aside the last of the stack of final exams atop his desk. Those can wait a bit longer; another day if need be.

“Oh, nothing,” you answer, clearly willing your voice not to crack. “Just a little sad that this is the last day. I’m really going to miss my office.”

It’s the little sniffle that follows that makes his chest ache. He’s smart enough to read between the lines. This has nothing to do with your office.

Without thought, Price automatically pushes his chair back and stands, shortening the distance that separates you in just a few strides. He takes the box from your hands, setting it in the empty seat closest to you. You’re looking at the floor now, avoiding his gaze. A curled finger beneath your chin tilts your head back up and gives you to choice but to look at him. 

“Don’t you give me that nonsense,” he chides with a soft smile. “What is it really, darling? Tell me what’s on your mind.”

A few stray tears fall between blinks, and John is quick to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. He’s sure you can see every ounce of worry etched into his features, even as much as he’s trying to mask it. 

“I’m scared, John.” The admission surprises him. “I don’t like change. I don’t like not knowing what to expect.”

“I promise you, my dear, everything is going to be perfectly fine. Professor Riley will take excellent care of you. He’s a wealth of knowledge; well-versed, brilliant. I trust him. As for your office, it’ll be exactly as you leave it any time you want to come visit.”

“It’s not just that,” you interject, chewing at the inside of your cheek. There’s something more on the tip of your tongue, and he tilts his head just enough to prompt you to say it. “I just… I won’t get to spend as much time with you, will I?”

Price frowns.

“You’ll have all the time you want with me. Needn’t but ask, and I’ll be right there.”

That’s not what he wants to say. What he wants is to tell you that he’d sooner have you planted in his lap every second of every day so he never has to be away from you, that he doesn’t particularly enjoy the thought of sharing your time with any other man for any period of time (even if it is just Simon), that he values every fleeting moment he spends with you over any material thing in existence...

“It’s not just about what I want, John,” you counter in a hushed, wobbly voice. “What do you want?”

He sighs, taking your pretty face in his large hands. His mind is racing through a rolodex of anything and everything he could possibly say to keep that more lax, collected façade he’s curated intact; but the second he feels another tear drip onto his hand, it all goes out the window. He asks you to look at him, and you do. You look up at him with those bright, kind, teary eyes, and any ounce of resolve or restraint left in John’s body crumbles to bits. He takes a long blink and just lets the words come out how they may, consequences be damned. 

“I want you. Whatever you’re ready for, whatever you’re willing to give, I just want you.”

Words are often said to carry weight; some far too heavy, some not quite so, but all with their own heft. Like rocks tied to the soul, his grandmother used to say. Choose them wisely, and use them with caution, lest you be burdened by the stones in your mind. But John Price has never felt so weightless and free as the moment a syrupy, surreptitious smile settles on his lips and he utters a phrase he didn’t ever anticipate using before even taking you on a proper date: “I love you.”

Your expression softens. Dumbstruck, your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Your eyes search through even the deepest recesses of his, looking for some sign of deception or jest, but there is none to be found. Never will be. Not with him.

After a few beats of silence, John clears his throat, admittedly a bit sheepish.

“You don’t have to say it back. Just couldn’t -”

“No, John, I-I… I love you, too.”

He doesn’t waste even a fraction of a second pulling you into him further for a searing kiss, one you melt into as soon as his lips meet yours. It’s nothing like the dozens of times he’s kissed you before; there’s nothing frantic or frenzied or feverish about it this time. True, it gets his heart racing all the same. His blood still sings with the same carnal cravings. But his mind and body do not share the driver’s seat this time. No, this time, his heart has the wheel.

It’s almost instantaneous, how hard he gets while just kissing you. Happens every time, but this is the first where he doesn’t feel such an innate need to hide it from you. He has nothing left to hide anymore.

You’re held there in a languid but torrid lip-lock until your fingers curl into the collar of his sweater, like you’re trying to pull him impossibly closer. The first little tug begs for more, and John takes a step forward to grant your wish, effectively backing you into the wall. The second tug draws his hands downward, skating oh so gracefully along your sides until his firm grip settles around the curve of your hips. He gives you a gentle squeeze there, just tense enough to make you gasp before he licks into your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue sliding past your teeth seems to spark something wild in you. You abandon the give of his collar, instead weaving your fingers through his hair. An experimental tug makes him grunt - something you seem to like given the way your back arches from the wall, canting your hips up into his. John takes the opportunity to wedge his knees between your thighs, pressing securely against your clothed cunt. Your tongue prods his back as you grind into him a time or two, and like an electric shock, the motion has him pulling back just enough to speak clearly.

“You want me, pretty girl?” he asks gruffly, breathlessly. It’s near impossible to stop his eyes from migrating, but the way you’re fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back when you rub yourself against him again keeps him entranced. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Just… Just want you,” you pant, biting your lip, failing to hide the sweet little whimper that slips out. 

“Yeah? That all you want, sweetie? You already have me. I’m all yours.”

“You know what I mean, John.” 

He chuckles.

“You’ll need to be more specific than that, love. I haven’t spent all semester with a TA that can’t use her words, have I?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That won’t do at all, my love. Tell me exactly what you want, and I might just give it to you.”

“I-I want - oh fuck - I want your cock stuffed so deep i-inside me that I can f-feel it for days.” You whine, assuming a steady pace. It’s the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard. “Need you to fill me up. Been waiting for months, John.”

His mind goes blank. He’s dumbfounded. An entire dictionary at his disposal, and the only word that comes out of his mouth in response is a hushed, “Fuck.”

You seem to have usurped his confidence, based on the way you’re looking at him as you whisper, “Let me show you.”

Before he can process any of it, you’re guiding him back to his chair and sinking to your knees. Deft fingers make quick work of his belt while you mouth openly along the bulge in his slacks. He swears he’s dreaming when those dark blue nails unfasten the button and begin to pull down his zipper. 

Something in him short-circuits when he looks down and sees the wet patch you’ve left just above his knee. Either you’ve soaked through your panties, or you don’t have any on; he’ll find out which is the case soon enough, but it’s enough to keep him hard for hours.

His eyes dart back to your face, and you’re looking up at him expectantly, tugging his pants and briefs down in tandem, asking him so very sweetly to have a seat. Like a well-trained dog, he obeys, lower layers shoved to his ankles. Tugging a hair tie from your wrist, you make quick work of pulling your hair back. Once done, you only break eye contact to trail a fingertip down his throbbing erection, a haughty smirk tugging at your lips every time it twitches beneath your touch.

“You’ve got the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” you mutter, palming it as it lays against his stomach just enough to incite a sharp gasp.

“Don’t tease me, woman,” he groans. “Been waitin’ just as long.”

Almost too delicately, you wrap your hand around his cock, middle finger and thumb barely missing each other. You give him a tight squeeze, making those fingers meet as you painstakingly slowly begin to pump the base. His head falls back against the chair with a muted thud, and the second his eyes close, you have your lips wrapped around his tip.

Your tongue flickers over that sensitive spot just below the head, and John sees white spots behind his eyelids. It’s been so long since anything has felt this good. In fact, he’s not sure if anything ever has. Nothing compares to you. Not by a long shot.

As heavy as those eyelids feel, he lifts his head, forcing himself to watch you work so he can commit every second to memory. That warm, wet, wanton mouth of yours just keeps sucking him deeper, worshiping each inch you take with appreciative hums and whimpers. The pressure is perfect, especially with your tongue pressed to the underside. Your soft hand works the length you’ve yet to reach, the drool leaking from your lips lubing it up for you.

When he finally nudges the back of your throat, you gag, but you don’t pull back. You push just a little farther first, forcing him into the start of the curve and giving him a swallow. What in the actual fuck did John Price ever do right to deserve an angel like you, huh? How in the hell did he ever get this fucking lucky?

The moment your head starts bobbing in his lap, he swears he’s actually died and gone to heaven, or rather, the closest thing he believes in. He has a deathgrip on the arm of his chair, and to ground himself, he has to put one hand on the back of your head; not pushing, not guiding, just resting to keep himself from floating away entirely.

It’s almost overwhelming, just how god damn good you feel. He’ll never get over it. He’ll never get used to it.

You haven’t stopped stroking that extra length since you started, but the other hand is conspicuously absent. He wonders what that hand is up to, but he can see the smallest sense of movement in your shoulder, and he knows exactly what you’re doing.

“Hands on my legs, love. Don’t you dare touch that cunt,” he growls, renewed confidence seeping down to his marrow. Pretty eyes narrowing just slightly, you place your other hand on his thigh. He can feel how wet your two middle fingers are, slick against his skin. The noise that comes out of him is one he doesn’t recognize - somewhere between a whimper and a moan, but somehow neither - as he grabs your wrist and pulls that hand to his lips. Taking those two fingers, he licks them clean. You’re just as delectable as he imagined, and the need to get his mouth on you rears its head. That little voice in the back of his head tells him you deserve it; it’s only right that he shows you how much he truly loves you after making you wait so long.

You pull his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, kitten-licking the tip between ragged breaths. Still pumping him and keeping pace, you duck your head down a little more. You begin alternating between sucking on his balls and tracing the seam up the middle. It’s only a few switches, but it feels like dozens before you start sucking on his dick again. His hips buck involuntarily, grip on your head tightening when he feels every muscle his abdomen tensing.

“Gonna cum if you don’t ease up,” he warns, but you continue with a hum. He has no choice but to guide you away by your hair, and he just about cums anyway at the sight of you.

Your makeup is smeared, little gray streaks running the length of your face. Your entire chin is glistening in the low warmth of the fading sunlight from the window. A few small, silvery strings of saliva and precum keep you connected just a second longer. Any hope you may have started the day with that your lipgloss would stay put was dashed by the first kiss, but is now an absolute impossibility. John almost feels bad about ruining your morning’s work, and by almost, he means not at all. The smile on your face is more than well worth it.

He stands, pushing the chair back with his legs.

“Get that gorgeous arse of yours on the desk, love.”

Divesting himself of his remaining clothing, he sees your eyes widen just a hair.

“Jesus, John,” you whisper, gaze roving his body like it’s a modern marvel. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“You’re one to bloody talk,” he retorts, letting the hem of his sweater fall from his hand. It crumples into a pile with his slacks, and he’s back on you sooner than it hits the floor.

Another blistering kiss, and he can taste himself on your tongue. It’s heady and intoxicating. Enough so that he’s already laying you back on top of the desk, just like the first time he kissed you. 

Like muscle memory, your legs come up astride his waist, and his hands are rucking your dress up over your hips. You only break away from him long enough to pull it the rest of the way off before pulling him back in. The hands used to guide you down work tirelessly to unhook your bra, and both offending garments are tossed aside carelessly. He’ll help you find them later.

He’s the one to disengage this time, the one to stare, the one marveling at the wonder before him. To say you’re beautiful, gorgeous, or any other synonym in his repertoire would be a disservice. There really is no word in the English language - or any other, for that matter - that really captures just how breathtaking you are. Every curve, every line, every mark, mole, freckle, dimple, it merely confirms what he’s surmised from the start: you are perfect.

A slew of words escape him, none of which are coherent to either of you, between the kisses he places along your jaw, down your neck, across your chest. His large hands cup your breasts, pushing them together in the middle. He seals his lips around one of your nipples and lets his tongue move in mindless patterns, adding little sucks or nibbles when he hears you give him a little sigh. The other gets the same treatment immediately following, but he doesn’t forget his mission. A mere detour won’t derail him.

John makes his way down your stomach in a slow trail, leaving hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses. Your hand is in his hair again, and you’re watching him like a hawk, brows furrowed in a throes of ardor.

Another prediction is seasoned as fact when he reaches your pussy. He doesn’t recall any underwear being removed, and yet, you’re bare to him. The evidence of your arousal extends from your lips to your inner thighs, and his cock throbs tirelessly between his legs at the mere thought of his effect on you. 

“Cheeky little minx,” he comments, heated breaths washing over your slit. “Were you planning on tonight going this way?”

Almost bashfully, you shake your head.

“I don’t like panty lines,” you cop. “Don’t think anyone else needs to imagine what’s under my clothes.”

He huffs out a chuckle before taking a knee, hitching yours over his shoulders. His arms circle beneath your ass, wrapping around until those big paws are settled on your hips. The tips of his fingers dig into the meat as he hauls you closer to the edge of the desk. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmurs between the kisses he lays against your skin, kissing up one thigh, then the other, never taking his eyes off yours while he licks the slick from his lips. “Most stunning creature I’ve seen in all my life. Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You’re not given the chance to respond before he descends, licking a stripe through your folds with the flat of his tongue. You yelp, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He feels your legs tense, but his hold keeps them from closing around him. As much as he’ll enjoy the free earmuffs on the impending colder nights, he wants you spread out right now.

He drinks you down, savoring how good you taste. You’re keening high in your throat, pulling his hair, digging your heels into his scapulae; he’d gladly spend the rest of his life between your legs if you’d let him.

The tip of his tongue nudges your swollen clit. You arch off the desk, panting. He sucks it between his lips, putting just the right pressure on it in a thrumming cycle. The sounds you’re making whisper of being close to the edge, and he wants to keep pushing.

“John, please,” you whine, squirming in his iron grip. “I want your fingers.”

He releases your clit, flicks his tongue over it one more time just to see you jolt. If you’re going to ask so sweetly, who is he to deny you?

“Yes, ma’am.”

Untangling one arm, Price wastes no time guiding his middle finger into your sopping entrance. It slides in like this is where it belongs. He uses the opposite thumb and forefinger to spread you open, eagerly easing a second finger in.

His hands are much larger than yours; thicker, longer fingers, meatier palms, knotted and scarred knuckles from his time in the service. Two of his digits equal three of yours. He’s gentle, cautious, and the addition of his ring finger lures him into a trance of wonderment, watching with rapt attention as your hole flutters, stretching to accommodate him.

You clench around him, a scarcely audible hiss sneaking between your teeth. The depth he reaches is far more than you’d ever manage on your own, he knows, and when he crooks his fingers, catching that sweet spot, you bow up again, grinding down into his hand.

The blissed out look you aim at him sparks the frenzy, and he’s ravenous, devouring you like a man starved. Lapping at your clit, hand keeping a steady pace, it doesn’t take long before you’re issuing a warning that you’re close.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Not stoppin’ ‘til you do.”

Your thighs clamp down around him when his efforts double. A dull thunk is barely heard as you throw your head back, and almost on cue, your walls are squeezing him, pulsating as a sharp bout of convulsion hits. He can’t make out the words you’re saying, so he tenderly guides you back down from the peak until you release him.

The heave of your chest as you try to catch your breath gives him pause. While he’s desperate to feel you wrapped around him, milking him for all he’s worth, he’d still be plenty satisfied finishing himself off at home if you needed a break. You look absolutely wrecked already, smeared makeup and mussed hair, sweat beading above your brow. He’s clearly done a number on you already, but when you spread those perfect legs again and start palming your tits in a way that makes his mouth water, John finds himself grabbing a throw pillow from the couch beneath the window.

In a rare display of raw, brute strength, he gathers both your legs in one arm and lifts your ass from the desk just enough to wedge the pillow in. He’s bumped into his own desk enough times to know what a nasty mark it can create, and he’ll be damned if you’re left with any bruises other than the ones he creates with the intimate intent of branding you as his.

“You ready, love?” he asks softly, guiding his drooling cock through your folds. Your wetness slicks him up nicely as you nod, tacking on a gentle ‘please’.

His tip settles in just the right place, and he pushes home in one fell stroke. Your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent moan, and John feels as if the air has been punched from his lungs. He has to steady himself to keep from cumming right then by holding just beneath your rib cage, the natural curve of your waist. It fits so immaculately in his hands, and it roots him into place.

This is real. You’re real. You’re really here, and this is really happening. 

“John,” you mewl, placing a delicate hand over one of his.

“Just… Gimme a second, sweetheart,” he mutters with a kind squeeze. “Feels too fuckin’ good bein’ inside you like this.”

One moment bleeds into another, and you’re so patient as he collects himself. No push, no prod, no protest; just the tips of your fingers tracing the veins in the back of his hand until he’s ready. When he is, he gives you a gentle tap of confirmation before experimentally rolling his hips.

He groans, the feeling still so intense as he works in shallow thrusts. You fit him like a glove, like you were made for him and him alone, like you’re meant to be his. A step away from the precipice does him no favors; he knows he’s not going to last long. With the way you’re wrapped around him, looking up at him with a degree of reverence reserved for someone who hand-painted all the stars in the night sky just for you, how could he?

His hips draw back further each stroke now, and he begins to pick up his pace. The meat of his thighs claps against your ass as he pulls your hips towards him at every collision. Your nails bite into his forearms. Every sound you make fuels his primal need to hear more, and he knows he’s hitting all the right spots when you’re slurring out swears and babbling nearly incoherently beneath him.

A bead of sweat drips down to the hollow of his throat. He glances down at where you’re joined, watching your sweet cunt stretch to swallow down his thick cock. A milky white ring has formed around the base. As many times as he’d pictured this exact moment, nothing in the most feral corners of his imagination could’ve conjured something so inherently erotic. Seeing his length disappear inside you over and over assures that he’ll never be satisfied with fucking his fist again, not after this.

The pad of his calloused thumb finds your swollen clit with ease. He rubs in tight, calculated circles, applying a little more pressure when you nearly shriek his name. He needs to see you come undone for him again.

“That feel good, love?” You nod. “Yeah? You like that, huh? Can feel that pretty pussy squeezin’ me. You’re takin’ me so well, honey.”

You’re barely coherent beneath him as he drives into that spot that keeps you breathless. He doesn’t know what you’re begging for, but you keep saying ‘please’. You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes on him, and they keep threatening to roll back. The sight only spurs him on. 

Any semblance of control is lost when you warn him that you’re close again. Words of encouragement pour out like a fountain before he can process what he’s saying. Your whole body tenses, walls clamping down around his length in even pulses, and John folds himself over you, fucking you through the waves.

“Shit, I - oh, fuck! - John, I-I… I love you.” You struggle to get it out between pants and moan and whines, but his heart soars all the same. He ruts into you feverishly, peppering your face with sloppy kisses as he chases that high. There’s no controlling the near whimpers that escape him as your orgasm pushes him to the brink of his own.

“‘Bout to cum, baby. Where do you want it?” he sighs into your mouth.

“Inside - please, want you to cum inside me.”

That’s what does him in. He pushes as deep as he can, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps rope after rope of warm white into you. The edges of his vision blur. He can’t remember a time in his life that he’s cum so hard, but he knows it won’t be the last. Not when there are too many months to make up for.

One more kiss, and he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

[omi-papus]

Light The Lamp

Part: 2

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Modern era AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Hey guys. I managed to get this out at a decent pace I think, this fic is a lot easier to write than some of my other projects so I can balance it with Uni a lot better. Here we have more of the idiots being themselves.

She completed the interview. Robin stood firm even when faced with questions like, “How do you plan to avoid being a hindrance to your team?” No matter what, she wasn't going to cave and walk out.

Now she's wondering if that would have been the less humiliating option.

The second they finished recording, she stormed out, not saying a single word to either of the men in the room, and went straight to the gym. She doesn't know how long she stayed there, but all she could think about was what a waste of time this had all been. The dinner, the recording, the time she had spent planning her answers and all she could say to make the interview good, the time she wasted on him. Because she thought none of it amounted to anything. That the interview footage was unusable and no one in their right mind would have thought it was good enough to be released. That it would all be deleted, and they would pretend they never met. Oh boy, how wrong she was.

“AND WHEN DID I TELL YOU YOU COULD FUCKING DO THAT?!” Coach Maida yelled at the entrance of the arena, not minding for a second who else was there to hear her. Robin knew exactly what she meant the second she started yelling because she had seen it too. She forgot to unsubscribe from that godforsaken channel and saw the thumbnail that very morning. It had her nearly foaming at the mouth, and boy had she considered running up to that office and chewing him out. But she had training that day and did not want that fucker taking up any more of her time and brainpower than he already did. And lo and behold, her coach had caught wind of everything and was currently in the process of tearing her a new one.

“ARE YOU AN ACTUAL TODDLER?!”

“I wasn't expecting him to just insult me like that!”

“Oh no, he had every right to insult your piss poor playing. What you should have done was NOT throw a tantrum on camera!”

“I had to defend myself! I couldn't just sit there and take it and embarrass the team!”

“YOU EMBARRASSED THE TEAM WHEN YOU BROKE YOUR FACE ON LIVE TELEVISION!”

Robin couldn't respond to that and just gritted her teeth, holding onto her stick with enough strength to possibly break it.

“I should have kicked you out when I could…” the woman grumbled. Robin would have been scared if she hadn't made that exact threat multiple times and never followed through. She looked down at the floor. At that point, Coach Maida had stopped talking as well and just stared at her, waiting for a response. It took a minute for Robin to simmer down, to hold back from screaming and crying about what had happened in that interview and why it wasn’t her fault. She had to think about something else.

Her next words were soft, almost achingly resigned, but her eyes had that one last spark of confrontation as she locked eyes with her coach.

“Sam won’t be mad if you do. You know that, right?”

Marguerite’s expression did not change, but she didn’t answer. A cold breeze came in through the open door of the building, and the sounds of the other players whispering among themselves cut through the tension like glass. A grunt could be heard from the coach before Robin winced as she received a quick hit to the back of the head. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the coach walking away from her and into the rink.

“What are all of you staring at?! Get ready and get on the ice in five minutes! You’re doing triple laps today! You can thank Ayou for that!”

Robin could barely process the sounds of her team heckling her as she felt a certain weight in her chest grow heavier

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was the last to leave the locker room, still in her underwear, going through her phone. She had meant to unsubscribe from the YouTube channel but quickly found herself unable to look away from the comment section of the newest video.

"Like all women. Basically children." "She should not be playing if she’s this sensitive." "She just mad nobody wants to fuck a masculine thing like her." "Bro thinks she’s good."

It went on and on. She was trying her hardest not to look at Twitter. She could only imagine what the rhetoric would be there. It made her blood boil.

The Alterra Giants had requested a rematch. It would be in only a few days. She would fucking show them. Every single one of them how great of a player Robin Ayou was.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The puck slid out of her reach far too quickly for her to attempt to redirect it. Then, pathetically slowly, it moved away from her before she was pushed to the side and had to refocus her energy on regaining her balance. She stopped herself from moving too far away, getting back into hot pursuit as quickly as possible. She could feel her pulse in her ears. Her trajectory had changed to herding the action back to the left of the rink. The opposing winger was cutting across center ice, trying to get a clean entry into the zone, but Robin was determined to force her wide, to keep her from getting any closer to the middle of the rink. With a burst of speed, she closed the gap, angling her body to cut off the winger’s path. The opposing player saw her coming and tried to make a quick move to the outside, but Robin was ready. She threw her weight into the check, sending the winger off balance. The puck popped loose.

The game was tight, the score tied 3-3, and her team was down to their last minutes in the final period. Every pass, every shot, every hit mattered. The Alterra Giants seemed to have fixed themselves overnight, always having at least two players specifically countering her.

She had to feel flattered.

The center was in position near the slot. Robin’s eyes flicked to her. This was it. She sent the puck screaming across the ice, a laser pass threading between two defenders. Her teammate caught it cleanly and wound up for a one-timer. Robin held her breath. The faceoff was in the offensive zone now. Robin skated into position. She locked eyes with their captain, who was lining up for the draw. They had a plan, the captain would tie up the opposing center, and Robin would swoop in to pick up the loose puck. If everything worked perfectly, they’d get another shot and a goal.

The puck dropped. The captain did her job, tying up her opponent’s stick. Robin surged forward, her stick darting out to grab the puck. She had it. She snapped a quick shot at the net, low and hard, hoping for a rebound. The goalie blocked it, but the puck bounced out into the slot. Bodies crashed together as everyone scrambled for the loose puck.

The opposing winger, a speedster with a nose for breakaways, found the puck and chipped it past the defense. Robin’s heart sank as she watched her own defensewoman hesitate for a split second. just enough time for the winger to take off. Robin turned and sprinted, legs pumping furiously as she tried to catch up. But it was too late. The winger was already across the blue line, alone on a breakaway. Robin could only watch as the forward closed in on their goalie, faked a shot, and then lifted the puck top shelf. The red light flashed.

She didn’t truly remember what happened after that. “4-3” was her last coherent thought.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is hideous, dear, you really ought to change the way you arrange these.” The woman began taking out plates and placing them loosely on the table. Alan stood at the edge of the kitchen, staring firmly at the ground, knowing that if he dared to look up, his brain would shut down. His entire kitchen was in disarray, every plate, cup, fork, and spoon placed out onto the counters and table, many at risk of falling off the edge.

“I’ve taught you how to organize a million times. You are a grown man. You don’t have excuses to be this messy. The cups should go in the top drawer, not the bottom right one, and the pans need to go closer to the stove.” His mother opened one of the bottom drawers and began pulling out the one pot and pan, and with no more space left on the counter, she put them on the floor. “I want this all reorganized by the end of the day, Alan. I am not letting you live like this.” She finally looked back at him as she pointed to the mess around her, and she was fuming when she noticed him looking at the ground.

She let out a deep sigh and massaged her temple. “You’re lucky I’m so patient. I don’t even want to look at your room. I can’t imagine that it’s organized either.”

“It is organized.”

“Don’t talk to me like that! I’ll go see for myself. You stay here and fix this mess.”

She walked past him, and he shuddered. He finally had to look at what she had done, and when he did, he felt his entire head heat up with stress. He held back from putting everything back where it went, knowing that it would not please his mother. He tried to remember what she had told him. The only "right" way to organize, and began rearranging as much as he could according to her rules. He tried to think of his childhood kitchen and how that was organized. Normally, it would be easy to replicate, but the layout of the kitchen was different from his current home, and he wasn’t sure how to make it equivalent in the "right" way that wouldn’t get him another angered lecture and his kitchen torn apart again. Distantly, he could hear the sound of cloth being thrown from down the hall. No doubt his mother had already begun dismantling his closet. He had moved all his hockey paraphernalia to his office for this exact reason.

Because it wasn’t the first time she had done this. Show up unannounced and invite herself in. Sometimes she was only judgmental of his lack of decor and the general subpar aesthetics of his one-bedroom apartment, commenting on his habits, like how long it took him to shower on the days she arrived before he had to head out, and where he placed his coat when she came at the end of the day. But sometimes she did this. Dug through every drawer and crevice in the house, found something she disliked, and then took out everything and told him to put it all back the "right" way.

It wasn’t that Alan was disorganized. He loved keeping his spaces tidy, clean, and in perfect order. He had created multiple systems of how things should be stacked, folded, and stored and hated when anything was out of its assigned spot. Unfortunately, his mother was never a fan of his ways of doing things and insisted that everything should be done based on how her household, when she was a child, used to run.

This had been a battle they had fought for as long as he could remember. It was an immovable object meets unstoppable force scenario, two equally obsessive people steeped in their own ways and unable to accept anything else. Alan would arrange everything to his mother’s liking, wait for her to leave, which might take multiple hours, and then put it all back, until she showed up again. It was a cycle that periodically would steal up to an entire day from him. Sometimes, he’d have to call off work to Ryley because he had to either entertain his mother or reorganize everything again.

Alan used to think he would be free to have his house the way he liked when he had his own, but his mother’s incessant visits never let him know peace. In half an hour, the kitchen was mostly presentable. He could only hope she wouldn’t undo his work twice. He didn’t have to guessshe had already told him she was angry with him, for missing her call all those weeks ago and for making a scene at that restaurant. He knew from experience that her anger would last at least another month at this rate. And he guessed that Robin’s anger would last forever.

He was smart enough to tell that she was furious. The way she conducted herself in the interview was proof enough. And the way she had left, so quickly and violently, was unnerving. Ryley had suggested, nearly begged, that he not post the video. He didn’t know why Ryley was so adamant, as Ryley had always been pretty detached from anything Alan did outside of what directly affected him. Unfortunately, Alan had promised his viewers an interview with Robin Ayou, and he couldn’t back down from that. But it really was a disaster. She refused to answer multiple questions, and the ones she did, she fought him at every step. She was obviously very upset with what he was asking her.

He had told her to notify him if she had a problem. Why didn’t she? He had given her every question. None of this should have happened like this. At least not on camera. She was clearly surprised by the questions, and it was apparent she hadn’t read the list he gave her, and that made him more upset than anything else. That he had planned everything out perfectly and it was all sabotaged because she just felt like it. Like his way of doing things was stupid and didn’t deserve consideration. Just like his mother was doing now.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud thud followed by what sounded like a crack. Quickly, he put down whatever he was holding and scurried over to his room, where he could see three things.

His mother stood in the corner of the room, looking visibly shaken his bed was filled with now unfolded clothes, thrown half-heartedly around, and his headset was on the floor, the shell on the left speaker broken and detached from the headband, the cushion having detached as well.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry! They just fell out of the closet, I didn’t know they were there! Oh my God, I broke them! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible mother who breaks my son’s things! I’m so, so sorry, Alan.”

His feelings toward the broken headset were quickly derailed by his need to calm his mom down.

“It’s alright. It was an accident. Go sit down. I can get another one.”

“I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry!”

“I know, Mother. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

This went on for a solid twenty minutes. And it was only after two hours that she finally left, and he was faced with the fact that he had to replace the now broken headset.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robin stood still against the bathroom wall, fighting the burning sting of tears yet again. Every time she thought her anger had subsided, it bubbled up again like magma, and she could do nothing but grit her teeth and hold back from punching a wall.

She had told herself she would not look at social media after their loss, but, like with seemingly everything in her life, she failed. Twitter was swarming with comments about not only her team but her specifically. The connections made between her performance and the interview were plentiful. She remembered the scolding Coach Maida had given her, and even that didn’t feel close to the sheer anger she had felt in her bones when she saw that scoreboard.

She pressed her forehead against the stall wall, fists tight and jaw clenched. She was only a month into her professional career, and all of this was happening. She couldn’t help it. The gut punch of regret, coupled with an all-too-familiar helplessness, made the tears threaten to fall again. She had to mentally recite a mantra to herself, reminding herself why she was doing this, why she chose this path.

You're good at this. You're good at this. You. Are. Good. At. This.

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose quickly when she heard a knock at the stall door. She had been in there for a good ten minutes, moping. Hastily stepping out, she made her way to the sinks and splashed water on her face. Looking at herself in the mirror for a moment, she wished she were home right now. The only reason she hadn’t hotboxed her room and smoked herself stupid was that she was completely out of groceries and had nothing to eat for either dinner or tomorrow’s breakfast. She was starting to regret not ordering takeout, but her budget was getting stretched thin, and she knew this was the healthier option. The closest grocery store was attached to the main mall in the area, so that's where she was. Stores would be closing soon, so she had to hurry.

It was because she was speed-walking that she only half-registered a white blur move past her. Her instinct, however, was strong enough to tell her to stop and turn around, knowing that properly identifying it would be important.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alan should have, by all means, waited until at least tomorrow to purchase another headset. Or better yet, he should have ordered it online and waited. He had most of the month's videos already recorded and could have honestly just recorded everything on camera with the whiteboard instead. But he hated waiting, and he also just needed to get this situation out of his head before it made his brain explode with rage. Needless to say, he was furious, because of everything. The broken headset had just been the final push between his mother's visit and the recent interview fiasco. He felt like he would lose it if he didn’t fix the one thing he could control in this situation.

He never liked malls very much, few things interested him, bright lights and loud sounds abounded. It wasn't unbearable, but he certainly wasn't fond of it. He was walking around, searching for an electronics store that looked like it sold more than cheap chargers and phone cases, in hopes of getting a half-decent headset to serve as a placeholder while he waited to get another identical to the one he already had. He knew that wasn't the wisest financial decision, but he simply did not care at this point. He walked along with his head facing the ground, just thinking about how much better it would be once all of this was behind him. That was until a very loud noise pierced his ears, and he turned around to recognize a person stomping toward him.

“YOU!”

She had quickly pinned him to the wall, pointing at his face, her finger dangerously close to his chin.

“You motherfucker!”

He was never great at identifying facial expressions, which only made the vibrant anger in her eyes even more noticeable. It took him a whole five seconds of staring before he processed the eye contact, became uncomfortable, and looked away.

“Oh no, you look at me, you piece of shit!”

Her hand was already on the wall to the left of his head, leaning in way too close for comfort. He only took tentative glances at her, slowly shuffling to the side, away from her. He was thankful she didn't outright grab his face.

“I said look at me, dammit. Can you at least treat me like a person?!”

That confused him, his eyes still on the pillar to the side of them.

“I have never indicated I don't see you as a person,” he mumbled unsurely. He nearly felt her huff exasperatedly on his chin.

“Are…” She seemed almost choked for a short second before frowning at him again. “Am I supposed to believe you're just stupid?”

He finally took a step to the side, getting out of her hold. A nearly imperceptible growl escaped her when he did, but she removed herself from the wall and stared him down.

“Am I just expected to believe that you didn’t know how bad all of that would fucking look?! Is that your excuse?!” She spoke loudly but stopped outright yelling.

“I…” He cut himself off, realizing he needed to further think his words through. “I gave you time to contest the questions if you wanted to,” he struggled to say.

“And how did you expect me to react exactly?! I wouldn't have done the interview at all if you were just going to shit on my entire career for thirty minutes straight!”

His hand twitched. “Your career is barely existent. You’ve got one victory under your belt, one that you lost immediately after.”

She visibly fumed. So the shithead had watched that day's game too. Of course, he had. “So then why care about me at all?! If you just think I'm a piece of shit at my job, then what was the point of interviewing me in front of hundreds of people? Do you just get off on humiliating me?!”

They were starting to get looks. Robin noticed this far before Alan did. For a moment, she was self-conscious. She was making a scene so soon after being called emotional and childish for her on-camera outburst. The thought made her so upset that she nearly didn’t care about how those around her might see her. But that underlying shame was still there, that feeling that she was just being dramatic, that she should just suck it up and move on with her life. That she should just train harder and force him to eat his words. But something about looking at him directly set her off. Seeing him there, looking so lost and vaguely afraid, even through the thick facade of his expressionless face, made the barb sink so much deeper into her chest. Betrayed. She felt betrayed. And she felt stupid for it. Because it wasn’t a secret to her that he had quickly endeared himself to her, that she had found him oddly cute and charming. That she had felt that they were friends. She had known him for so little time. She shouldn’t have gotten this attached that quickly. Or shouldn’t have gotten attached at all.

“I thought the phenomenon of how you played was worth investigating,” he said, still facing the wall. Robin had to force herself to sigh. It did not help.

“What? Is my failure just fun to you?! Am I just entertaining because I'm so fucked up at playing hockey that I need to be studied?”

“I think you're taking it personally.”

“It IS personal, Alan! This isn't just my hobby! This is my life!”

“Well maybe play like it, then.” His fists were clenched hard, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. For a moment, Robin was too stunned to clap back. She fumbled with her words for a good few seconds as they kept getting stuck in her throat. The sheer audacity of the statement actually made her return to reality. Him so openly admitting he thought she was shit felt like it put an end to a small fire that had been burning her lungs. It felt like some type of closure.

“I shouldn’t even care. You're nothing but some nobody on the internet. Your own followers are getting tired of you, and you're more preoccupied with shitting on me than getting your mediocre career back on track.”

“You're trying to offend me, and it is not going to work.” He spat at her, looking now at her feet.

“Ryley was right about you. You're nothing but a neurotic freak with an ego up your ass!”

“Listen, I just want to go purchase something. I have nothing to say to you.”

“No wonder nobody likes you. Nothing is ever enough for you.”

That, Robin noticed, lightly changed the look in his eyes. “Listen.” His shoulders tensed, and to her surprise, he turned to face her, still looking at her feet. He took a step toward her, and they were once again toe to toe with each other.

“You have no experience with what being less than enough is like. If you really weren't enough, that coach of yours would have kicked you out a long time ago. I’ve seen her do worse for less. You’ve waved to your loving family at plenty of your games since university.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He should have shut up then, but an unstable cocktail of built-up frustration and anger was making him unreasonable. “Nothing I do is ever enough. Not for my family, not for my audience, not even for my own employee, and clearly not for you.”

Robin only raised an eyebrow, demanding he elaborate. He happily did. “I gave you every single question written out on paper and would have easily sent you a digital copy if you asked. I gave you a week to make the choice, to communicate with me, and yet you said nothing. It was clear you couldn’t even be bothered to read any of them. I would have changed them. I would have called off the interview if it was really that bad. I had everything set up to avoid disaster, but that was not enough. I tell my viewers that I’m going to interview a professional player, but that's not good enough. I lose nearly half of my income to pay my assistant a livable wage by just doing the job he signed up for, and that is not enough. I show my family over and over that I’m managing my life and have found even a little success in what I do, and that is still not enough. It’s never fucking enough.”

Robin blinked, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he was saying that surprised her, but how he said it. For all his usual detachment, this was the first time she had seen him genuinely vulnerable. She tried to shake that feeling off. He was the one who had treated her like a lab rat for his personal gain. He didn’t get to turn this around on her now, not after everything.

“That’s your excuse? You’re sad, so you did this to me?” She bristled.

“I am not giving you excuses. I am just simply expressing how I feel since you’re so intent on arguing.”

“What you feel?! What about what I felt?! When you still posted that stupid interview when I was clearly not happy with it?!”

“You didn’t tell me not to post it. You didn’t tell me anything. You just left.”

“And you’re going to tell me you didn’t see I was upset about it? It was obvious, you should have known!”

“Your subpar communication skills are not my responsibility.”

“Oh, we’re talking about communication, how funny. I would have LOVED for you to have communicated that you thought I was a stupid piece of shit instead of schmoozing me up at dinner and texting me like we were best friends!”

He was taken aback by that last statement, finally catching himself staring at her again, this time in sheer disbelief. “What do you mean by that?” he said slowly.

“If you were just going to insult my playing, why did you act so polite, take me out, and… and make me trust you?”

She sounded… hurt by the end of the sentence, her burning ire fading into the background ever so slightly. Alan couldn't decipher it, but he was dumbfounded by the very question.

“Because you’re a person. Even if a messy one, you are still a high-level professional player. And just… because I respect you? I never thought that you were stupid, and I just… Why wouldn’t I?

She was exhausted. She only then realized it. Frustration was starting to burn away at the last of her energy reserves along with her sore arms and bruised calves. She let out a huffy, exasperated noise as she held her head in her hands. It dawned on her what she was doing and how stupid and insane it looked to everyone around her. Was she being childish? She didn't know and only half cared. But she knew then that she wanted this to be over.

“Are you even sorry?” She simply sounded tired now, the tone of her voice significantly higher-pitched than before. Alan was able to sense this, and therefore his own defensiveness lowered, but he still had to take a moment to think about it.

“I do not think it is my fault, but I am sorry it turned out like this,” was all he could say. Robin stayed quiet, looking at him in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable, and he finally had enough.

“Goodbye, Miss Ayou.” It took a lot of strength for him to turn around and walk away, but he finally did, leaving Robin to deal with the stares. The supermarket had already closed.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was going hungry tonight. She refused to spend more money on takeout, and Cal had his parents over, so she couldn't raid his fridge tonight. She was almost tempted to ask Sam for food, but the fear that Coach Maida could be the one to answer the phone was enough to dissuade her.

She should have, by all means, gone to sleep already. Her tired body was screaming at her, and her frayed nerves couldn't handle any more, but she just couldn't feel like it. That was very much like her, procrastinating even when it came to sleep. Fuck, she did not want to go to training tomorrow. If only she could call in sick like any other job, well, at least any job where Coach Maida wasn’t in charge. She tried to think of ways to get out of it while boiling some water. She really needed to get a kettle. Busting out the pot every time she wanted to fill her hot water bottle was getting beyond annoying, especially since these days she had to do it daily. Everything hurt. She looked over to her room and heavily considered rolling one out, but it would go to waste if she was just going to fall asleep five minutes later.

In minutes, she was on the couch, a hot water bottle pressed against her shoulder, her phone at ten percent, bright in the darkness. She scrolled past a group chat with her teammates, a message from her mom asking how she was doing, and a few promotional emails from places she'd never shop at. She was in that mood in which she couldn't stay on a single app for more than a couple of seconds, her attention span wouldn’t sit with her for more than that. She leaned her head back against the couch, trying to force herself to relax. Eventually, she decided to scroll through YouTube Shorts since she hadn’t tried that yet. Pretty quickly, that got boring as well, so she began looking through her YouTube feed. Maybe her favorite ichthyologist YouTuber had posted something new today.

Like a bitter metallic taste suddenly making its way into her mouth, a video showed up on the feed that nearly jump-scared her. She sat upright on her couch and stared at the screen. She thought she had unsubscribed from that stupid channel earlier today. Did she really forget to do it then, too? Fuck, she was stupid.

She collapsed back down again. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” she muttered to herself tiredly. The video still stared her in the face. It made her angry. She felt the urge to report it, but she knew that doing that would actually cross the line into being childish. Currently, she was frozen. Something in her stopped her from scrolling along, unsubscribing, or doing anything about the situation that was bothering her. She placed the phone on her chest. She never did watch any videos from him, maybe if she had, she would have picked up that he was an asshole before she agreed to be part of them. And thinking about it more, she felt like an idiot again. She really did just like the idea of being interviewed like a celebrity, regardless of who did it. She never cared about his channel or whatever greater goal he had in mind. She just wanted to feel good about herself. Was that wrong of her? It felt like it was.

His little speech still bothered her. It wasn’t unimaginable that he had his own bullshit going on. Everyone did. Robin was convinced that everyone thought the world was caving in around them half the time. He wasn’t special. Still, she had to feel bad because it was true, if she had just not lost the paper like a moron, this wouldn’t have happened. He said so himself. And, God, she was never going to live down what Cal told her to do. Just ask for the questions again. She had avoided doing it for such a stupid reason, too. And that's the part that bruised her ego the most.

Because she was attracted to him. That had been apparent from minute one. She had wanted to look cool in front of him. She didn’t want him to know she was an idiot. And what hurt the most was finding out he already did. Seemingly from the start, he knew. And she really was stupid, wasn’t she? Her tooth still stood sharp and broken in her mouth, the image of the scoreboard was still seared into her brain.

Why hadn’t Maida kicked her out yet? If she let a boy get under her skin like a teenager, surely she deserved to be left behind with the college kids like so many of the other girls did. She should have never been drafted. This was a mistake. She was just destined for nothing, like all her school teachers had told her.

She curled up on the couch, burying her face against the cushion. She was spiraling again. She needed a distraction, now. She took out her phone and just mindlessly clicked on the video. Fuck it. Maybe getting angry at Alan again would get her back on track. What the video was even about didn’t matter, as long as it was something other than more loud thoughts of self-hate. Alan was in front of a whiteboard with a projection on it. He wasted no time, beginning to scribble and talk at length. Robin immediately recognized the topic, neutral zone traps, forechecking, and counterattacks. She stared at the screen, watching Alan’s hands move across the whiteboard, the slight tilt of his head as he spoke. She was annoyed that even now, after everything, he could still captivate her attention. Pathetic.

The video droned on about the timing of offensive breakouts and how players should anticipate defensive collapses. But then something in the video caught her ear, a mention of adaptability. Alan was saying something about how great players aren’t just skilled at executing strategies, they’re able to adapt to changing circumstances. The ones who succeed long-term are the ones who can read a situation, make quick decisions, and adjust, even when things go off script. She was good at that, she thought. Robin had always been quick on her feet and would thrust herself at any opportunity that presented itself to strike. Heh, she was so dead set on improvising that she had… broken… her tooth. She instinctively ran her tongue along the jagged edge of it, wincing at the reminder. Improvising was her strength, sure, but sometimes it came with a cost.

Alan’s voice brought her back to the video. He was talking about the importance of balance, knowing when to adapt but also knowing when to stick to the fundamentals. "It’s not just about reacting to the situation," he said, his tone calm but firm. "It’s about controlling how you react.” Robin remembered that incident, how it had happened because she flung herself at a loose puck and accidentally planted the toe picks of her skates on the ground and fell over. She hadn't thought about the consequences, about how her desperate attempts to turn the tide were turning into sloppy mistakes.

Robin gritted her teeth. Control. That word made her stomach churn. It was what Coach Maida had been drilling into her head for months now. Her natural instincts were sharp. She’d fight tooth and nail to force a play, to make something happen, but in doing so, she’d lose sight of the bigger picture and…

Her head was starting to hurt. She got off of YouTube, cutting the video off. She stared at the ceiling for God knows how long. Thankfully, she had the loud sounds of cars honking outside to save her from being submerged in the silence. She hugged the hot water bottle. Well, just like he seemed, Alan was smart. Too smart. Too blunt as well. He hadn’t just made his points by themselves. He had provided examples for every single aspect he was discussing, heavily criticizing a number of players in the process. She let out a deep sigh. Alright, maybe it wasn’t personal. She still found what happened in the interview incredibly rude and insensitive, especially with how little faith people naturally have in female hockey. But she supposed he just didn’t consider that. It was weird, actually, how little he cared about that fact. She looked through his recent videos, and the last seven of them were all about female games, even if she noticed that those had fewer views than the previous male-led ones.

A sudden urge to ask him about it popped into her head. It was just a fleeting notion, but the fact that she had just thought of texting him about why he liked female hockey like that caught her off guard. Like she hadn’t just sworn off ever thinking of him again a few hours prior.

“Uuuuugh, nooooooooo…” she whined lowly. Watching that video had done something for her. She just saw him, so focused and objective, that she finally had to realize that Alan was just some guy. He loved hockey like an obsessive little kid who cared about the game itself so much that people's feelings just slipped his mind. Could she really be that mad at that? He himself had admitted to her that he was autistic, and- no. No, no, no, no. That was NOT an excuse. Never had been, never would be. But what, she just wasn't mad at him anymore? What was she supposed to do with that? She didn't just want to forgive him. But… he wasn’t malicious. He was… blunt, obsessive, maybe even careless, but not cruel. She was almost certain of that now. Maybe she was infantilizing him, but that was better than considering him a shitbag. Robin remembered what he had told her, that although she was messy, she was still a professional. Did he always feel that way about her? How she felt now? So lukewarm and weirdly disturbed by the existence of a grown adult who was so… clumsy. Her with her feet and him with his words.

She briefly considered that her brain might just be looking for excuses to let things go so she could fawn over him again. It was at that moment that she made a choice. If she was going to go anywhere with this relationship, that attraction had to go. He wasn't some irresistible supermodel. Most of what appealed to her was just that he was taller than her, which most men weren't. He was decently polite, but she had gotten a good enough look at his personality to realize that the soft boy sweetheart persona she had built up in her head was far from the truth. She had been into her girlfriends before, and she got over that. Yes, this was the right choice. She could do this.

Now the question was, did she want to continue their relationship? If she even could, he looked pretty pissed at her too. But if they made up, what would become of whatever they had? Well, first of all, any more videos were off the table. But that had been the only reason they even met in the first place. The only reason he approached her, and the only reason she followed along with the weirdo that ran to corner her in the street. She huffed. Well, at least they were even cornering each other in public. The point was, what else did she want from him?

She thought about it while scratching dirt from under her fingernails, and rather easily, she had her answer. She felt bad for him. Not just because she screamed at him in public, but because of everything. Like she said, he wasn't special for having his own emotional baggage, which he had revealed to her seemingly on impulse. But still, even before that, he had such wet dog energy. When they were on good terms, he would text her incessantly, like he had no one else to talk to. She had a suspicion that was the reason he invited her out to dinner instead of just forwarding her the questions via email. And now she knew that he was aware that Ryley, his only work colleague, thought badly of him. Adding that he also briefly mentioned having family issues, something Robin had never been familiar with.

If she wasn't going to be his friend, then no one else would. And something about her hypersocial brain wouldn't let that go. Was she really going to let go of all the humiliation and anger to adopt a thirty yearold man? Fuck, she needed to broaden her hobbies.

She lay down comfortably again and put a pin in that thought. She was being hormonal or something. She had just finished tearing his ear out. She couldn't just call him up and be like, Hey, sorry, let’s be friends. She wasn't a saint.

Looking at her phone with five percent battery left, she decided she had enough of videos and hopped on Twitter. Robin had fought for her life to keep her Twitter hockey-free. She had enough of that shit on the daily. When she had phone time in bed, she would prefer to look at videos of Cuddlefish. Well, until a few days ago, of course. Following Alan had completely thrown off her algorithm, if only because of how much he tweeted. She should have known that she couldn't avoid him here either. There were just old threads of arguing until she got to the top, where she inevitably came across his most recent tweet and…

“Let it be on record that I do not condone the misogynistic and degrading comments made about the athlete Robin Ayou as a result of my video.”

Suddenly, it was quiet even on the street outside. Without thinking, she clicked on the thread and continued reading.

“While I stand by my analysis of her play, it’s important to separate criticism of performance from personal attacks. I respect Robin as a player and as a person, and any comments attacking her have no place in the discussion.”

He hadn’t tagged her in the tweet. Maybe he thought that was him being respectful, but now she wished he had. At least then she could have responded, said her piece, and maybe even defended herself instead of just being some invisible target. She looked at the time it was posted. Ten minutes ago. So after their spat at the mall. Even after all of that…

She buried her face in her hands. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…” she groaned. She stood up, back pain be damned. She stomped over to her room and plugged in her phone, not waiting for the little sound to ring before going into her contacts and searching for a familiar name. Alphabetically, it was the first. She put the phone to her ear as her breath caught in her throat. What was she doing? Whatever it was, she had to do it now before she lost her nerve or her pride swallowed her alive. The phone was already ringing, so there was no going back now.

The sound permeated for an unbearably long time. A small part of her was hoping he wouldn't pick up. That she could tell herself that she tried and that it was him who rejected her.

The ringing stopped.

“A-”

“I will have you know that it is only legal to claim defamation if the statements made are both false and damaging to your reputation. I have extensive proof of all my claims and proof of your consent to-”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! No, no, no, no, no! I never- I don't- what?”

“I would urge you not to allow this to go to court.”

“Alan, I am not trying to sue you!”

“Then what do you want?”

The words suddenly got caught in her throat. For what felt like an eternity, she was unable to say anything out of sheer nervousness.

“Miss Ayou, this is considered harassment.” His voice never wavered once.

“No! Wait! Fuck! I just- I’m sorry!”

“What was that?”

“I- I- I” She sighed harshly. “I’m sorry, Alan.”

“Okay.”

Robin blinked. That's it? Okay? She nearly said that out loud. A short silence followed before she realized it really was on her to make this count. “I did take it personally. Too personally. I know now that you're like that with every player, and I shouldn't have accused you of trying to hurt me.”

“Because I wasn't.”

“I know. Listen, I was being irrational back there at the mall. That wasn't deserved. I shouldn't have made a scene like that.”

“Is that it?”

He was really going to milk her dry, wasn’t he? “Alright, I'm also sorry for the interview. It… it was stupid. I should have done something more productive than just digging my heels in like that.”

“Miss Ayou?”

She wished his voice would soften even a little but knew that even if he was in a good mood, it almost never did.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you read the interview questions?”

She dragged her palm across her face, hunched her shoulders, and held back a groan. He noticed. Of course, he noticed. She had no choice but to rip off the band-aid now.

“I… I lost the paper…”

Where had the cars outside gone? She couldn’t deal with this silence!

“Are you serious?”

“Yyyyyep…”

“You’re not messing with me?”

“Why would I make this up?” She sounded like she wanted to jump off a pier because honestly, she did.

“I just…” That was the first time she had ever heard him lose his words like that. It was honestly intimidating.

“Why???” His pitch heightened in disbelief. She swallowed hard, she couldn't decide if this was going better or worse than she had expected.

“I just put it away and then I couldn't find it.”

“Are you one hundred percent certain?”

“Yes? I know it's the dumbest shit you've ever heard, but that's what happened.”

She could hear fiddling on the other line. He must have started to pace.

“And… why… didn't you ask for a copy??”

She briefly couldn't speak again. Her face was burning, and it was making her dizzy. What did she expect to say here? I had a crush on you, so I didn't want to embarrass myself? Well, yeah, that exactly, but for the sake of her sanity, she would omit some things.

“I didn't… want you to know that I lost it. Because… well, like I said, it's stupid, and I didn't want you to think I was an idiot for losing something so simple.”

It was his turn to struggle to speak for a couple of seconds. “I- Robin, what you did is much dumber than just asking for them again.”

“I know!”

Alan, on his side, had in fact been pacing around his room, eventually, he had to stop and sit back on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with his shirt collar for several seconds before thinking of how to continue. Robin was waiting for a response, as she had fallen silent, save for the occasional short squeal of frustration that would come through.

“So this was all a misunderstanding then.” He didn't sound completely sure.

“Ugh, I mean no. It's mostly my fault. I'll take that, but it's because I wouldn't have done the interview if I had known what the questions were.”

Alan sighed. "So you went into the interview blind. And now you’re apologizing after wanting to kill me four hours ago."

"Yes! I get it, okay? I’m an idiot. I didn’t plan for it to spiral like this."

"That’s an understatement," he muttered. There was a pause.

"You didn’t have to make that interview so brutal," Robin said, more quietly now.

"You expected me to go easy on you?" Alan’s voice was incredulous.

She was going to implode. “Well, when you put it like that, I look like a little bitch.”

“What do you plan to do when criticism like this comes to you again?”

Robin buried her face in her free hand. “I’ve gotten worse, just not in front of a bunch of people, man!”

“You're twenty three, you'll recover.” He attempted to comfort her, but it only agitated her more for reasons unknown to him.

“D-don't treat me like a kid!” Her face was flushed, and her ears got hot.

“I never did. I simply meant to say that you have the rest of your career ahead of you.”

She brought her knees to her chest, her voice coming out much softer than either of them had anticipated. “So what? Do I just have ‘potential’ and nothing else? Is that how you see me?”

This time she could hear him breathe through the phone. “I'm not that important, Robin.”

Her eyes widened momentarily, and she mentally kicked herself for caring so much again. She was taking too long to answer, so he did in her stead. “I don't understand. Are you upset because you found the video defamatory or because you think I dislike you?”

Even through her pinkish-brown skin, the dark red of her blush could show through. That was a good question. The obvious answer was both, but if she looked inside herself, she could find which of the two dug at her ego the hardest.

“It's not like we're even friends.”

And she was not about to be honest about that.

“I suppose not.”

They were both quiet for a long time. It didn't feel right to hang up, but neither could come up with something more substantial to say.

She cleared her throat. “Look, I didn’t call you to- ugh, whatever this is. I just wanted to say sorry for blowing up. I… I get that you were just doing your job, and I need to stop making everything personal.”

“Good,” Alan said flatly.

Robin felt her heart sink just a little, even though she’d expected him to say something like that. What had she been hoping for?

“I just... I don’t want to be on bad terms with you. That’s all.”

“Bad terms? Robin, this wasn’t personal. I don’t go around trying to make enemies of people.”

“Well, you got pretty personal back at the mall with that little spiel about your life.” She said with a certain venom in her voice. This was supposed to be an apology, but she refused to pretend like she was the only emotional one in the situation.

He choked for a second, almost dropping his phone in the process. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded more than a little strained. “That was an oversight.”

“And what? Do mistakes only have consequences when I make them?”

He hesitated for several seconds. “And what consequences am I supposed to suffer then?”

It was Robin's turn to stall. During the span of five seconds, she went through all five stages of grief for her pride and finally settled on what she wanted. “I want you to forgive me.”

He blinked a couple of times. That was a much simpler request than he had expected. “I already did.”

“Forgive me like you mean it.”

“How am I supposed to prove that?” He was utterly perplexed, even if he didn't fully convey it.

“Everything has to go back to normal between you and me. Back to the random blocks of text at 3 PM. Back to asking about our day. No more videos or interviews in mind. Just talk, like normal.”

Alan was close to short circuiting. This took a turn that he never could have expected. “But like you said, we are not friends.”

“Well, fuck you, you’re my friend now.”

“What? Do I get a choice in the matter?”

“Nope.”

“You can't do that.”

“Sure can, white boy.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Al. Good night.”

She hung up, leaving him more confused than he had been in his life. What?

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Little Daisy Jones pt.4

Daisy regresses in the studio with Billy for the first time

I’d recommend reading parts 1, 2 & 3 first but this also works as a stand alone!

Tw: fighting, age regression (don’t like, don’t read!)

Word count: 1518

🎸📖🧃🫂

“Daisy? Have you got anything new?” Billy asked, looking up from his notebook. They were supposed to be working on the next song for the album, so far all they had were the lyrics “Why I floated, why I reached towards the moon,” which in Daisy’s defence she’d come up with. Unfortunately however, after that all she had were scribbles and poorly drawn flowers.

“No,” she huffed, Billy peaked over to her notebook and Daisy blushed, quickly snapping it closed and hiding it from his sight. Billy sighed irritatedly.

“Daisy, I know you’re still new to this whole ‘working together’ thing but you do actually have to focus,” His tone was mean and his raised voice made Daisy’s tummy ache. “We’re never going to finish this album if you’re off doodling all day.” Daisy didn’t think that was very fair - she’d come up with the first lyric anyway. “Daisy? Are you even listening to me?” He snapped, he sounded so angry and it made Daisy want to cry.

“Sorry,” She murmured, looking down as tears burnt in her eyes. It wasn’t her fault! She was too little for this and she just wanted to go back to Karen. Billy’s face instantly flickered with regret as he saw the tears burning in Daisy’s eyes.

“Don’t cry Daisy, it’s fine. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just tired,” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. It was too late though because there were already tears pouring down Daisy’s cheeks. She wanted to go home. Or hide, she really wanted to hide. She could feel Billy’s eyes on her and it made her skin crawl. Everything felt like it was all too much, he could not see her like this. Quickly, she jumped from the stool she’d been sitting on and slipped into the small gap between the armchair and the wall, curling her knees up to her chest and burying her damp face against her hands. The firm pressure on either side of her shoulders was comforting, nothing could hurt her here.

“Oh shit.” Daisy could hear Billy’s footsteps approaching and she lifted her hands up over her mouth, she had to be very quiet l, maybe then he would forget she was there… ok yeah, maybe he wouldn’t. “Daisy?” Billy called out gently as he knelt in front of the gap. Daisy pushed herself right back against the wall, her head was thrumming uncomfortably but the cool wall against her back was soothing. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Daisy frowned, rubbing harshly at her damp cheeks.

“Sorry, I’ll be good,” she whined, gnawing roughly on her thumb nail. Her other hand traced the ribbed green pattern of the sofa. It was rough against her fingers, grounding her.

“You weren’t bad, I just,” He sighed tiredly and Daisy could recognise the exhaustion in his body. “Julia just didn’t sleep very well last night, I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

Daisy frowned, looking up at him. “Karen gets grumpy sometimes if I don’t sleep, it’s ok,” She offered, reaching out to pat his shoulder. Billy gave her a confused look,

“Karen?” Daisy nodded with a soft hum,

“She needs lots of coffee in the morning, have you had coffee?” Daisy questioned innocently, shuffling onto her hands and knees so she could crawl out of the small space.

“No…” Billy looked confused, Daisy wasn’t very sure why - maybe he preferred tea? Billy wasn’t so scary now that she really thought about it, he was kind of just like Karen - who wasn’t scary at all - just a bit rougher and he kinda smelt funny if she was being honest.

“I want some juice,” Daisy shrugged, “maybe you could get some coffee?”

“Yeah, ok,” Billy nodded. He looked less confused now which Daisy assumed was a good thing.

He followed her wordlessly to the little kitchenette just outside the recording room. It wasn’t much, just a small fridge, a microwave and a coffee machine. Daisy kinda wished she could use her sippy which was in her bag but she wanted Billy to think she was grown up. She opted for a plastic cup because then it wouldn’t matter too much if she dropped it, still she held it with both hands just in case. Billy followed her advice and made a coffee which made her beam with pride as she sipped her apple juice on the small sofa.

“I’m sorry I made you cry before,” Billy apologised as he sat down on the couch next to her. Daisy just shrugged, she didn’t really want to talk about it again.

“It’s ok, lots of things make me cry,” She didn’t want Billy to feel bad, it wasn’t his fault she hadn’t been paying attention. She began picking at the knee of her jeans, nervously. “M’ sorry I’m not very good at working together,”

“Oh kid, no,” the name felt foreign from Billy’s mouth and made Daisy squirm uncomfortably like he could see right through her - of course he could. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Did you write any lyrics?”

“A few, nothing amazing,” Billy shrugged.

“Can I see?” She thought maybe if she saw his lyrics she could probably build something off it.

***

Billy had a few lyrics scribbled down, they batted around with wording and a few riffs for a bit but Daisy grew bored quickly. She began chewing on the bottom of her pen which Billy quickly discouraged.

“You done?” Daisy nodded. She dropped her notebook next to Karen’s keyboard, lightly tracing her fingers over the keys. “Daisy?” Billy questioned hesitantly.

“Yeah?” She looked up at him, lacking his usual hair of confidence.

“What happened before? When we fought?” ‘We’ was probably a bit of an understatement, to Daisy’s memory it’d just been Billy yelling at her. Still, she trusted Billy - enough - or at least she wanted to.

She looked back down to the Keyboard, it felt almost as though her hand on it made her closer to Karen. “Sometimes… when I’m overwhelmed or really just a lot of the time I suppose. I regress back to a younger age, mentally. I didn’t have a great childhood, you know, not much of a real one at all. Karen usually takes care of me when it happens.” She tried to make it sound nonchalant, like if Billy completely dismissed her it would matter at all.

“Ok.” He nodded, clearly confused but at least he didn’t sound angry. She looked up finally, walking down her anxieties. Billy was watching her, his eyes were gentle. It didn’t feel like much had changed between them. Billy was still Billy, Daisy was still Daisy, the glass separating them was just losing its opacity. “Have you ever played boxes?” Billy asked with a smile, Daisy shook her head, no.

Billy slipped off his chair, patting the floor next to him and opening up his notebook. Daisy stretched out across the floor on her stomach. She reached over to her bag, pulling her small lamb stuffie out. She figured it would probably be ok for Billy to see it if he was going to play a game with her now.

***

When the rest of the band arrived later that evening Daisy was on her back in hysterics and Billy was strumming loudly on his guitar. Karen could see the childlike glimmer in Daisy’s eyes which instantly piqued her curiosity.

“What’ve you kids gotten up to today?” Graham asked, analysing the bizarre scene. Daisy smiled, standing up and hugging Karen. The constant contact between the two had become commonplace, the boys didn’t question it.

“Not an awful lot,” Billy admitted, putting down his guitar. Karen began gently tracing circles against Daisy’s arm, she could tell the girl was in a younger mind space. “We thought we’d re-record some of the drums and bass backings for ‘the river’?” Warren and Eddie nodded, going to set up with their respective instruments.

The rest of the band filed into the control room where Teddy was setting up. Billy and Graham began fussing over the sound board with him. Daisy yawned and pulled Karen down onto the couch next to her. Karen smiled contentedly and slipped Daisy’s legs over her thighs. Daisy observed the boys for a moment, Billy glanced in their direction and she couldn’t help the blush that grew at his knowing look. She’d loved when this was just between her and Karen. Not that this new dynamic was particularly bad, it was just going to take a while to get used to someone else seeing that side of her.

“Good day?” Karen asked quietly. Daisy nodded.

“I told Billy about me,” she whispered back,

“Oh?”

“I was feeling small and he got mad at me, then… I couldn’t make myself feel big again.”

“That’s ok, was he ok with it?” Daisy just nodded. She leant against Karen’s shoulder. Karen began gently carding her hand through Daisy’s hair. Graham was watching them from a distance, though she knew there was no chance he could’ve heard their hushed conversation it still made her want to wrap her arms protectively around Daisy.

🎸📖🧃🫂

[multifandomfanfiction]

Take a Photo

TITLE: Take a Photo PAIRING: TASM!Peter/Madison Barton (OC) RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Peter has a crush on Madison, who has a crush on him. They just don't know it yet.

[A/N - Gwen Staci never existed in this and yes Morgan Stark is a teenager in this, but it's my AU and I'll do what I want to.]

Peter stepped out of his chemistry class and made his way to the courtyard for lunch. As he entered the courtyard, he heard her laugh. He turned his head and saw her.

Madison Barton. Daughter of Clint and Natasha Barton, the owners of the largest security firm in New York City.

She was sitting with Morgan Stark, daughter of the infamous Tony Stark.

Peter looked around to make sure no one was watching, before snapping a picture of Madison just as she was throwing her head back laughing.

“Parker!” Flash yelled.

Peter quickly shoved his camera in his bag and took off.

“Parker just took a picture of you,” Morgan told Madison.

“What?” Madison asked. She turned but didn’t see Peter anywhere.

“Do you still have a crush on him?”

Madison shushed her and looked around to make sure Peter wasn’t going to pop up somewhere.

“I mean, I don’t see the appeal, but you tend to like the nerdy types anyway.”

Madison had first noticed Peter when they had biology together freshman year.

He had helped her quite a bit through that class, offering to tutor her. She had almost accepted his offer, until her parents found out. They had instead hired an official tutor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the day went quickly, but Madison didn’t see Peter at all. Either their schedules wouldn’t allow it or he was avoiding her.

After school, Madison walked to her parent’s office.

“Hey Madison,” the receptionist said, “They should be in their offices.”

“Thanks.” Madison got on the elevator and went to the top floor. Sure enough, her mother and father were working in their offices, so she sat down at a table and started to do some homework.

Her father came out of his office first. “Hey Baby Bird. Have a good day at school?” he asked.

Madison shrugged. “It was school.”

“Riveting conversation,” her mother said, coming out of her office.

“Well, I’m gonna run down to the market. You guys want anything?” her father asked.

“No, we’re good dorogoy (sweetheart).”

Madison shook her head. Her father left and her mother went back into her office to work. Once Madison was sure the coast was clear, she snuck into her father’s office and hacked into his computer.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t technically hacking since her father’s passwords were rather predictable. You’d think being the owner of a security firm he’d be more careful.

She managed to find out Peter’s school schedule. With this newly acquired information, she cornered him in the school’s darkroom.

“Is there a reason you’re sneaking around?” Peter asked her.

How had he known she was there? It was like he had a sixth sense or something.

“Is there a reason you’re taking pictures of me?” Madison countered.

“I…uh…you see…”

Madison giggled at his stuttering.

“I just…you’re very beautiful.”

Madison blushed, but he couldn’t see it in the low light thankfully. “What are you working on?” she asked him.

He stepped aside and let her look at his photos.

“Is this…Spider-Man?” Madison asked.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. He has a habit of swinging by the window of my apartment.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet him.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. He seems like a really cool guy. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all.”

“I actually know him.”

Madison spun around to face Peter. “Really?”

“Yeah. I could tell him to swing by your parent’s building.”

“You would really do that?”

“’Course. You’re my…my friend.”

Madison sadly smiled. How could she tell him she didn’t want to just be friends?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day was a remote learning day, so Madison hung out at her parent’s office. She was doing some work on her laptop when a flash of red caught her eye. She looked up and saw Spider-Man hanging upside down in front of the big glass window.

Madison got up and walked over to the window.

Spider-Man pointed to the roof and Madison nodded.

She went out the roof top door and found Spider-Man waiting for you. “Oh my god. It’s you. Peter wasn’t lying,” she said.

“Of course I wasn’t lying.”

Madison stopped. “Pe…Peter?”

Spider-Man reached up and pulled his mask off.

It was indeed Peter.

“Wh…Why didn’t you just tell me?” Madison asked.

Peter sighed. “Because I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“I can’t…I can’t believe you’re Spider-Man!”

Madison put her hands over her mouth as she started giggling. “You’re Spider-Man! You’re really Spider-Man!”

Peter laughed and nodded.

Madison slowly stopped giggling and walked up to Peter. She put her small hands on his cheeks and kissed him.

Peter froze for a minute before he started kissing her back. He suddenly pulled away.

“Oh! Wait! I brought you something.” He pulled out a round tube and handed it to her.

When Madison opened it and unrolled what was inside, it was the picture Peter took of her. “Wow. This…this is beautiful,” Madison told him.

“This is how I see you.”

Madison looked up at Peter and kissed him softly.

“So… does this mean I can take you out on a date?” Peter asked.

Madison laughed. “Yes. This means you can take me out on a date.”

[deadlycupid]

the greenhouse kitchen - taod au

“Tommy!” Nico yelled when he tripped over a very friendly looking plant. The pot fell over and earth spread across the floor.

That was it, Nico had enough.

“Tommy!!”

Immediately the taller boy showed up in the door frame of the kitchen.

“What do you want?”

“What is this?” Nico gestured at the kitchen, that was over floated with plants.

On the window sill (which would have been fine), the table (was there even table underneath that jungle?) and the floor (why in the floor too?), everywhere you looked there were plants. Big, green plants.

“You don’t like the arrangement of my houseplants?” Tommy asked.

“Arrangement? This is a private mini rainforest! I could ask for an entrance fee for entering our apartment now. Come, look at this little ecosystem that’s growing in the kitchen.” Nico made a French voice, that he hoped sounded both mocking and snobbish.

“So you don’t like it?”

“Not like it? Tommy, do you not see what I’m seeing?”

Tommy sighed. “I don’t have enough space in my room.”

He pulled a chair back to sit on but on it were three cactus. He eyed them for a second and then with parental care he picked them up and put them near the sink, before dropping down on the chair.

It was adorable, honestly.

“Don’t tell me you have more in your room.”

“No, these are all. But I still haven’t unpacked everything, so I can’t put them there. But even then all of them won’t fit, my room was bigger at my parent’s house.” Tommy patted a plant with gigantic leaves.

“You’re not going to force me to throw them out, are you?”

Tommy sounded so defeated, as if Nico was a tyrant, coming to his city and prying away his children.

“God, no! Look, Tommy, we’ll find a solution. But they can’t stay in the kitchen. At least not all of them. It’s a kitchen and not a greenhouse.”

Tommy nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” He scratched the back of his head, messing his already messy curls up even more.

“We could start with moving some of them to the living room. How does that sound to you?” Nico asked.

God, he sounded like he was talking to Railey when he had one of his anger tantrums.

However, Tommy immediately agreed and picked up two of the plants from the table, a bit of the wooden surface appeared underneath it.

“Wait, let me help you.”

Tommy flashed him a grateful smile, all bright and squishy, and ugh Nico had to look a way.

Nico sighed and looked around the kitchen before his eyes landed on a rather big plant, that one definitely had to leave the kitchen.

“You don’t have to carry Gisela.” Tommy tried to stop him when he saw what Nico was reaching for.

“She’s kinda heavy.”

“It’s fine. I can carry her.” Nico snapped back.

Who did Tommy think he was? Just because he only reached Tommy’s chin doesn’t mean he is incapable of carrying heavy stuff.

Nico regretted wanting to proof Tommy how capable he was immediately and wished he had picked the three cactus instead.

But there was no turning back now.

“Do all your plants have names?”

“No, just a few like Gisela. My grandma actually gave her to me when I was 12. She’s, so to say, a grandma too.” Tommy laughed at his own joke and Nico had to stifle a groan.

Gisela was heavy and large, and usually Nico didn’t mind because it meant more to hold but not with Gisela. With her it meant ungrateful slaps in his face and a weirdly feeling wet stain on his leg.

Could plants pee? God, Nico hoped not.

— — — —

“I’m not saying he can’t have plants, but why did he have to be a friend of plants and bring all of them home to me?” Nico asked and leaned forward on the couch. “He’s like a child who brings home bugs.”

Noah laughed at that.

David joined them in the living room, leaning against the door frame with his own glass of self made lemonade.

“Have you met Gisela yet?” He asked and took a sip.

“I did not only meet her. I carried her around the apartment yesterday to find the perfect half sunny, half shadowy place for her.” Nico put his own glass on the table, a little too firmly, the flower bouquet on it shook with the after waves.

“Apparently she’s a drama queen. You know who else is one?”

Noah ginned and looked at David, who looked lovingly back, and then at Nico before he asked: “You?”

“What? No! What makes you say that. It’s Tommy, obviously.”

Noah laughed and Nico glared at him annoyed. Not even his best friend took him seriously anymore.

“Oh, shut up!”

David smiled at him apologizing and walked over to sit on the arm of the armchair Noah sat in. Noah wrapped his arms around his fiancé and pulled him onto his lap to smother his shoulder with kisses better.

Nico withstood the urge to roll his eyes.

That was why he didn’t visit them as often anymore. If he wanted to feel lonely he would watch the notebook or brokeback mountain and not visit it his best friend.

Before David and Noah had moved in together, Nico had his best friend’s undivided attention all for himself. And as much as he liked David, it would be nice if sometimes Noah would focus on Nico and not on him.

David indulged in Noah’s childishness for awhile before he gently pushed his head back, smiling softly.

“Give Tommy some time to settle in, Nico. I promise you, he’s not as bad as you make him sound like right now.”

And when David said that it must be true because after all Tommy was his best friend.

taglist

@writerfae @writing-is-a-martial-art @conundruminprogress @dontcrywrite @sleepy-night-child @bluehourskyeli @dragon-with-a-pen @avian-writes @apeir0ph0bia @poetinprose

[helliontherapscallion]

Safe

Pairing: SBI family x reader (platonic, one shot), BASED OFF FROM CHARACTERS NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE

Warnings: child abuse/neglect, bullying, alcoholism, death of a parent, mentions of panic attacks, injury, mentions of a dog’s death, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of suicide attempts, depression

Word count: 7,730

(A/N): if you’re not feeling safe at home or are being abused, please contact the proper authorities. Here’s the abuse hotline: 1-800-799-7233, my DMs are always open if you want to talk 

You met Tommy and Tubbo when you were in third grade. You were a relatively quiet kid, the type to always keep to themselves and abstain from social activity. Mrs. Jansen, being the nice woman that she was, let the entire class choose their own seats.

“Welcome to your first day of third grade, class! I’m Mrs. Jansen and I look forward to getting to know all of you. As you can see, there are enough desks for all of you. You may sit with who you want.”

You shifted around uneasily and gripped your book in your hands as your classmates hurried to get the back seats. After every seat was taken, you walked to the only seat left in the front. You were between a girl and a boy. They introduced themselves as Dorothy and Samuel, and were relatively kind to you. 

As the class passed their second week, two boys that sat in the back row made themselves apparent very quickly. They were both rambunctious, always disrupting the class with their giggles and whispers. Mrs. Jansen had warned them multiple times that she was going to separate them, but it seemed that they didn’t think she’d do it. One day, she finally had enough.

“Tommy, Tubbo. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, I’m going to have to separate you. Dorothy, Samuel, can you please switch places with them?”

You could feel dread wash over you. Why was she putting you between them?! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You could swear that you’ve done all your chores, you even made your mom smile at you! She never did that. 

They pouted as they sat next to you, Tommy on your right and Tubbo on your left. You already missed Samuel and Dorothy. “Thank you. (Y/n), make sure they behave.”

You shrunk down into your seat as you felt Tommy’s glare burning holes into the side of your head. Tubbo, on the other hand, was watching the lesson with bored eyes and  his chin propped up in his hand. You tried to take notes, but you kept getting distracted by Tommy’s heated glare. You were going to fall behind, you couldn’t have that. Mama wouldn’t like that. 

After the final bell rang, you hurried out of the classroom to avoid Tommy’s wrath. You could hear him shouting for you to stop, but you never stopped until your hand was grabbed and yanked backwards in the empty playground. You fell back onto the pavement of the basketball court and whimpered at the sting in your palms. 

Tommy glared down at you, “you gonna cry? Serves you right. Never tell on Tubbo and I. Got it?”

You tearfully nodded and he grinned maliciously at you, “good. Tubbo, let’s go. Wil and Tech’s probably waiting for us.”

The brunet was staring at Tommy with a shocked expression, unmoving. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd of families. Tubbo looked back at you with an apologetic expression and watched as you looked at your scratched up palms. 

You wiped at your tears as you stood up and started to walk home. Your neighbor’s dog behind the wired fence barked at you as you hurried past it. You never liked that dog; it was a drooling, angry, ugly furball. It scared you, but not as much as Mama did when she drank her adult juice. She was scary when she drank it. You tried hiding it from her once but she grounded you from eating dinner and snacks for half a month. You didn’t try to hide it again. 

You trudged up the creaky wooden stairs of your porch and tried to open the door only to find it locked. You tried to knock on the door but Mama didn’t answer so you just sat on the front porch waiting for her to open the door. She did so when the sun was setting, surprise and then anger shining through her hazy eyes. She yelled at you before she sent you to your room for the night without dinner.

The next day when you were sitting alone at a lunch table, someone plopped down in the seat next to you. You jumped and scooted away from them, looking up only to see Tubbo. He was smiling at you.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about Tommy, he gets mad easily.”

You eyed him warily and clutched your open book, “...it’s okay.”

He grinned and scooted closer to you, peering over your shoulder at the book. “What’re you reading?”

“‘Harry Potter’.”

“Oh I love that book! My favorite character’s Ron, who’s yours?”

Surprisingly, the conversation was pleasant before he was dragged away by a glaring Tommy. You might actually make a friend after all. Later that day after school, Tommy once again stopped you in the school yard. This time, he shoved you to the ground and started to shout at you. 

“You do not talk to him, freak! You’re gonna mess him up, he talks to me and me only. Do you unde-undastunend?”

You gulped and shakily spoke up, “yes, and it’s ‘understand’, not ‘undastunend’.”

His glare intensified before he reared back a fist. You yelped as you curled into a ball with your hands protecting your head. Before he could hit you, you heard the stomping of shoes against the concrete.

“TOMMY STOP.”

You could feel a hand on your back and a gentle voice asking if you were alright. You hesitated before you looked up to see an older boy with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He reminded you of Harry Potter. Looking past him, you saw a tall pink haired boy glaring and lecturing Tommy, holding the struggling boy in place with a firm grip on his elbow. Tubbo was just behind him looking down and shifting on the balls of his feet.

“I am so sorry about Tommy, are you alright? He didn’t hit you did he?”

You shook your head and the boy heaved a sigh of relief, “that’s good. I’m Wilbur and that’s Technoblade, we’re Tommy and Tubbo’s brothers. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).”

He smiled at you, “that’s a lovely name.”

“Wilbur, let’s go. This one,” Technoblade shook Tommy’s arm, “needs to talk to Dad.”

You watched as Tommy’s movements stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. “No, please don’t tell Dad. Please-” 

Wilbur stood and helped you up before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and lead him away, “you aren’t weaseling your way out of this.”

You watched the brothers leave, feeling guilt wash over you. You didn’t want to get him in trouble, punishments were the absolute worst. Even though he shoved you and almost punched you, he didn’t deserve any punishment. With guilt weighing down on your shoulders, you walked home. At least Mama was in a good mood, she made you some mac n cheese for dinner. 

The next day, Tommy trudged up to your desk and put a tupperware dish on your desk before sitting down in his seat and ignored you. Tubbo sat in his seat next to you and smiled at you.

“Open it,” he jumped in his seat slightly as he watched your expression change to shock. In the container laid five chocolate chip cookies. You had only had cookies once in your life and that was during a class birthday celebration a year ago. “They’re our Dad’s secret recipe, I helped make them! Um, Tommy wanted to apologize to you.”

You glanced at Tommy. He was glancing at you over his shoulder and blushed a bright red when he saw you looking at him. Tubbo cleared his throat and gestured at Tommy. The blond crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled halfheartedly. 

After that, they started to sit next to you during lunch. Tommy was a bit cold towards you, but you found yourself beginning to relax around Tubbo’s friendly aura. Soon enough, you started to supply him with more than a few words per sentence. Tommy eventually got bored of eating in silence and would join your conversation. You three became thick as thieves that year, you even met their Dad. He was very different from Mama; he never yelled at you, he was always giving you snacks, and he even smiled at you often. 

That house became like a second home to you. Eventually, you ended up spending more time at the Minecraft residence than you spent at home with your mom. Over the years, she got worse with her drinking. She was always passed out on the couch and when she wasn’t, she was swaying on her feet in the kitchen staring at a portrait with dazed, wistful eyes. You can remember when you first realized that she had a problem and always being unhappy and drunk was, in fact, not normal for a parent. 

It was a warm spring day in seventh grade. Luckily, you had your health class with Tommy and Tubbo. You were currently learning about alcohol dependency and the effects it had on the body. The teacher listed all the symptoms your mom had; the uncontrollable urge to drink, the aggression, the shakiness and dizziness, everything. When you came to the realization that your mother might have a problem, the teacher started to explain the disorders and diseases that could come from heavy drinking, most of them having the potential to be fatal if the drinking persisted. You felt like you were drenched in icy water as your body seized up in fear for your mother. You stared unseeingly at your notebook at the symptoms of alcoholism and associated disorders. You didn’t want your mom to die. You had to do something before it was too late for her.

“(Y/n)?” You jumped and looked at the person who called your name. Tommy and Tubbo were giving you worried stares. “Are you okay?”

You shakily started to put your supplies away into your backpack. The class had been dismissed and you didn’t even realize it. “Y-yeah. It’s just- I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too,” Tommy laughed as you followed the two out of the classroom and to the courtyard. “That essay’s gonna be awful.”

“Oh god we have an essay?”

“Yeah, Mr. Smithers assigned it to us before the bell rang, are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually on top of this stuff.” Tubbo threw a worried glance towards you.

“Yeah, just a bit distracted today. I uh, have to go home. Like right now, my mom wants me home right after school today.”

You sprinted off towards your house. When you reached your neighborhood and ran past the wired fence. The bulldog that lived there was now old and gray. You found out that his name was Buster and he was actually a total sweetheart if you slept next to him on the other side of the fence on more than one occasion. Buster watched from inside his doghouse as you sprinted into the house. Luckily for you, the door was unlocked and your mother was passed out on the couch surrounded by glass bottles. You locked the door behind you as you rushed over to her intensely watching for any sign of movement. She looked dead, her skin was pale, her hair matted, and her mouth gaping open showing off her yellow stained teeth. She wasn’t moving, were you too late?

Just as you started to panic, she snorted and started to breathe. You slumped in relief as you stepped over the beer bottles into the kitchen. The table was sparkly clean with a pristine picture frame resting in the middle, a stark contrast of the beer bottles that littered the floor and the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It was of a man standing stiffly in a military uniform saluting at the camera with a stern expression. He was an exact copy of you. Well, you were an exact copy of him; that man was your late father.

“Hey Dad, how was your day? Mine was awful, I learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis today and- and I’m worried about Mom. She’s been drinking a lot lately.”

You stared at your dad’s face behind the glass as if expecting a response. You wanted some reassurance from the man. You wanted him to tell you everything was going to be okay and that he’d handle it so you could be a normal kid. Like usual, his steely expression didn’t budge one bit. 

You sighed to yourself sadly and trudged to the refrigerator opening the door. The beer bottles stared back at you tauntingly. Your fingers twitched on the fridge door as you contemplated the consequences of throwing away the offending glass bottles. You remembered in second grade when you hid your mother’s alcohol she punished you by withholding food from you. She’d probably do worse this time, but the consequences were worth it if you were going to save your mother’s life. 

It took you ten minutes of tossing alcohol into the garbage can until the fridge was left barren of the drink. Without the green bottles, the fridge was completely empty with the exception of milk and a few probably rotten eggs. You struggled to take the trash out to the curb and started to work on homework in your room. 

At seven at night, you could hear her roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. A series of frantic rustling and banging sounded downstairs before you could hear pounding footsteps storm up the stairs. Your door flung open to reveal your red-faced, livid mother. 

“What the fuck did you do?”

“M-mom I hid them because we learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis and-” You cut yourself off when she walked over to you with her arms extended towards your trembling frame. You tried to scoot as far away from her as possible, but she grabbed your shoulders with clammy but firm hands, shaking you roughly.

“Are you saying I have a problem?! You spoiled fucking brat, you’re the problem! Everything was amazing before you came and fucked up my life. You took him away from me. YOU FUCKING KILLED MY HUSBAND.”

You could feel tears start to drip down your cheeks as you remembered that day in first grade when you begged your dad to get you some McDonalds for dinner. When he relented, you cheered and your mom laughed at your excitement. She was so full of life back then; her hair was shiny and bouncy, her skin was unmarked and flawless, her eyes were lively and bright. Her laughter was perhaps your favorite memory of her. Then everything went to shit when your dad never came home and your mom got a phone call saying that your dad was killed in a car wreck on impact. You could remember your mother’s heart wrenching sobs as she collapsed to the floor and pulled you tight against her body. As if she was trying to protect what was left of her husband.

You were snapped back to reality when your mom shoved you back onto your bed. The happy, beautiful woman that you saw was replaced by the shell of a broken woman. Her silky hair turned dull, her smile turned into a grotesque scowl, her loving eyes turned cold. She truly was a husk of her former self. 

“Stop crying, you’re not the one who’s life was ruined. I want you out of my house in ten minutes. You’re gonna not step foot anywhere near here for two weeks. If I even see you on my property before those two weeks are up, you’re fucking dead.”

You frantically nodded and watched as she stumbled out of her room. You packed what you would need in your spare backpack and ran out of the house past your mother sobbing and babbling incoherently to your dad. You flinched when you could hear a bang and the sound of glass shattering when she threw a bottle at your retreating figure. 

You ran until you couldn’t run anymore. Your legs brought you to the park where you spent most of your childhood. Everywhere you looked, you could see glimpses of your mom and dad pushing you on the swing, Tommy and Tubbo running from you playing tag, Mr. Minecraft putting a bandaid on your scraped knee. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you pushed yourself up and went to your safe place. It was a little nook deep in the vegetation where nobody could see you. You originally found this place when you were playing hide and seek with Tommy and Tubbo. They never knew where you hid.

Tears moistened the soil underneath you as you pulled out a blanket you had hid in a plastic grocery bag and spread it out on the floor. You curled up on it and cried freely into your hands. You didn’t sleep much that night. 

That was the first time she had kicked you out for that long. You barely ate in those two weeks, wolfing down any food you could get your hands on at lunch. Lunch for you was the small scraps of food that Tommy and Tubbo shared with you. Mom never packed you lunches or gave you money to buy things anymore. To make matters worse, they had told their dad that they thought you had some form of eating disorder. 

About a week into your exile, you finally visited the Minecraft residence after avoiding them for a week. You remembered how the blond man pulled you aside into the kitchen. He gently sat you down and pushed a plate full of chicken and vegetables in front of you. You looked at him confused as he gestured towards the plate.

“Eat that, I heard you haven’t been eating much lately.” When you made no move to eat, he smiled at you. “Go ahead, it’s okay if you don’t eat it all. Just eat some of it.”

That was all you needed to hear, you began to eat quickly like a starving wolf. It’s been a while since you had more than half an apple to eat, let alone an actual homemade meal. When you were done, you looked up to see the older man looking at you worriedly. 

“...Are you not getting enough food at home?”

You scrambled to find a lie, “my- my mom is away a lot on business trips. We don’t really eat much.”

His worried expression grew tenfold as he moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders. “You need to eat three meals a day, especially now that you’re growing. You’re always welcome here when your mom’s away, our door’s always open. Is she away now?”

“Yeah, she won’t be home until next week.” You felt bad for lying to the man that put bandaids on your scraped knees and took you to the father daughter dance in fifth grade when he heard that your dad was dead. He was always so kind to you, which you never quite understood. Despite feeling bad for lying to him, you felt incredibly relieved that you didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

From then on out whenever she kicked you out, you went to the Minecraft residence. They welcomed you with open arms and treated you like you were a part of the family. You and Techno bonded over your love for reading and mythology, Wilbur made sure you took care of yourself, and Philza (he told you to just call him Phil at that point) treated you like his own child. You didn’t think that it was possible for you, Tommy, and Tubbo to be any closer than you already were, but you three became inseparable. You told them everything one night when you couldn’t sleep. You told them how you felt like you were the cause of your mother’s decline and your dad’s death, how she would usually punish you, her ‘hobby’. They were about to tell Philza, but you begged them not to. After a while of pleading and assuring them that she’d never hit you, they hesitantly agreed and made you promise to call them whenever you felt unsafe in your home. 

You kept to that promise, calling them whenever she would get too drunk to know what she was doing. They would calm you down from panic attacks late at night and invite you to their house in the daytime. They felt like your actual brothers and you started to refer to them as such. You three gave each other a shoulder to lean on and gave each other comfort when needed. One night when you were in your freshman year, however, your mother caught you sneaking out to see them after she sent you to your room. That was when she started to hit you.

Just as you were about to sneak out the front door, your mother started to scream at you incoherently. When you flinched away from when she got up in your face, she became even more enraged. 

“WHERE WERE YOU GOING? I BET YOU’RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT, AREN’T YOU LITTLE SLUT?”

Without thinking, you yelled back at her, “I would never! Why-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to the cheek sending you to the ground. She quieted down and stared at you and her hand, a glint of shock shining through her dazed eyes. Without a word, she turned around and left to go talk to your dad. You sat there listening to her rant about how she failed as a mother, how she wanted to do better but she didn’t know how, how she wished that he was there with her. You scrambled up and ran to your room. You looked at yourself in the mirror, there was a bright red mark on your cheek in the shape of a hand. There was a small cut where her wedding ring connected with your cheek. A single drop of blood dripped down your cheek and curved down the dip of your chin before dripping onto your shirt. Without doing anything else, you plopped down onto your bed and sobbed into your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you realized that you slept through half of the school day so it was useless to go to school now. You reached up to run a hand down your face only to hiss and pull your hand away. You once again looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked terrible. Your eyes were bloodshot and swollen like you were crying in your sleep. Hair was sticking up in all directions and matted slightly. The slap mark was gone, but the cut had bruising around the edges with dried blood crusted on your cheek and on your pillow. It was a small cut, but it bled a surprising amount overnight. You couldn’t see Tommy or Tubbo like this, they’d flip out. Luckily for you it was a Friday and you had the weekend to heal. 

Your mother gradually started to hit you more and more. It started off as a once-a-week thing whenever she was really angry, but then it divulged into something that would happen daily over the smallest things. You became her punching bag for her to release some steam. Makeup became your best friend at that point; you used what little savings you saved over the years for dollar store makeup.

Soon after it became a struggle to hide the cuts and bruises from Tommy and Tubbo, so you gradually started to avoid them. Your face, once synonymous with the Minecraft residence and Tommy and Tubbo, became a rarity. They tried their hardest to contact you, but you always dodged their calls. After a few months of you dodging Tommy and Tubbo, you finally told them that you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. 

It broke your heart to say it, but it had to be done. They were getting too close to the truth and you couldn’t have that; the government would take you away from your mom and she’d end up dead. You were the only one keeping her alive at this point, she lost all motivation to eat. The only thing she did nowadays was hit you, drink, and hug your dad’s photo to her chest. 

The beatings got to the point where you could barely walk without feeling pain. School became something that you’d rarely attend. Tommy and Tubbo stopped trying to talk to and call you. Buster, your previous confidant, had long since died so you were truly alone in the world. The neighbor’s yard looked barren without the dog house and the graying dog. The only person you had left was your mom. 

When you had accidentally burnt dinner late at night, she completely snapped. She grabbed your arm and held it on top of the burner. Pain hit you immediately as you screamed and cried apologies to her. When you instinctively hit her with your other hand, she dug her nails into your arm and pushed your arm closer onto the burner. Nerve endings screamed at you to get away from the pain. The pain was becoming too much, so you looked on the countertop next to you for something to defend yourself with. A metal fork was lying close to your other hand. 

You grabbed it and, with a distraught apology to your mother, drove the prongs deep into her arm. She screamed in pain and let your arm go. You ripped yourself out of her grasp and started to run for the front door. A force collided with the back of your shoulder making pain explode in the area. You didn’t know what happened at first, but after hearing the shattering of glass, you realized that she threw a beer bottle at you. You could feel the sting of alcohol and glass mingling with your open wounds on your shoulder. The sting was almost as bad as your arm, but you didn’t stop running especially when you glanced behind you to see her running at you with a knife raised and the fork protruding from her arm.

You flung open the door and sprinted out without bothering to close the door behind you. As your bare feet hit the sidewalk, you could hear your mother stop at the end of the stairs and shout at you to come back. You never stopped.

You didn’t stop until your feet took you to the Minecraft residence’s front door. Nobody was on the street as it was about eleven at night. You hesitated to knock on their door, you ignored the family for the past six months, and you weren’t sure if they even wanted you there. After five minutes of thinking, you just sighed as you walked back down the wooden stairs and walked back towards the sidewalk.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” You froze up at Tommy’s sleep riddled voice. You stayed frozen as you heard him stomp over to you. He placed a firm hand on your injured shoulder and forced you to turn around. His angry expression faded into a concerned one when he heard you start to sob and flinch away from him. 

“Wha- shit are you bleeding?” You nodded slightly and he gently turned you back around to see a patch of darkened cloth on your shirt. You could feel him shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house. He plopped you at the dining room table and told you to wait there. With that, he sprinted up the stairs and brought back a serious Philza holding a first aid kit. 

When he saw you bruised and battered, you could hear him take in a sharp intake of breath and saw unbridled anger flash across his face. You flinched away from him when he approached you. 

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I won’t hurt you. Can you show me where you’re hurt?” 

You eyed him warily like a scared wild animal and reluctantly moved your burned arm away from your chest and showed it to him. This was the first time you saw your forearm; it was an ugly red that expanded up the majority of the underside of your forearm with skin burned off at the edges. Yellow, fluid-filled blisters were starting to form. 

You could hear Tommy’s horrified gasp as he turned to run out of the room. You kept your gaze downwards as Philza warned you that he was about to put disinfectant on your wound. He apologized to you when you whimpered in pain at the sting of the alcohol on your exposed nerves. After he was finished wrapping your arm, he asked you to show him where else you’re injured. You turned around so he could see the growing patch of blood staining your now ripped shirt. You could feel him gently move your shirt to the side and heard him wince. 

“Shit, there’s glass in here. I’m going to have to get some tweezers to get it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You were then alone in the kitchen for a moment before he came back with a worried Wilbur and Techno in tow. The brunet pulled up a chair next to you and asked if it was alright to hold your hand. After you hesitantly nodded, he grabbed your hand and started to run his thumb over your knuckles. Techno held a light close to your shoulder as Philza started to tweeze out the green tinted glass from your shoulder. 

Every time you would suck in air through your teeth and muffle your yelps with your other hand, Wilbur would whisper reassurances to you and hold your hand tighter. After the glass was out, the wound was disinfected, and wrapped in gauze, Philza told the boys to leave the room. He grabbed both of your hands and gave you the best reassuring smile that he could.

“Tell me what happened.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried Phil, I really did. She never got better no matter what I did.”

“What do you mean, are you talking about your mom?” You could hear the angry undertone of his voice. You tensed up and nodded.

“She… she needs help. She was never the same after Dad died, she started drinking. It started off with only one beer a day, but after seventh grade she was going through an entire case in a day. She’d punish me if I said or did anything about it. No dinner for a week was a popular one until she started to ban me from the house for weeks on end. She never went on business trips, Phil. She got a knife today. I-I thought she was actually gonna kill me this time, I was so scared.”

Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, letting you sob freely into his shoulder. “It was my fault, I couldn’t help her! She- she needed me and I couldn’t help her.” You said between sobs. He hugged you tighter and started to rub your back, making sure to avoid your shoulder. “None of this is your fault, you can’t help someone if they don’t want help. Sometimes you can’t fix someone who’s too far gone.”

“Am I too far gone?”

“No, you aren’t. We’ll help you through this, we won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. You’re gonna go on to live a good life.” You passed out in his arms after a while of crying. 

When you woke up, you were in Tommy and Tubbo’s room. The two boys jumped to your side and pulled you into a tight group hug. After you tried to apologize to them for how you treated them in the past six months, they shushed you and just sat there in silence hugging you. 

Later that day you found out that your mother was found by your neighbor on the front porch with her wrists slit and empty beer bottles surrounding her. She was breathing, but just barely. Currently she was in an unstable condition in the hospital. You had a full breakdown when you found out that she almost killed herself because of you. You had run out of the house and to your safe place in the park. You hadn’t been there in a few years, so you hoped that it was still there. 

Sure enough, it was still there albeit a bit overgrown. The blanket in the plastic bag was in the same place where you left it. You had no idea how long you were sitting there crying and having a panic attack, but when you came to your senses it was dark outside. You could hear crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves in the entrance of your hideout.

A brunet head poked itself in and smiled when he saw you. Tubbo fully came into the nook and gestured for someone to follow. Tommy’s blond hair made itself apparent before he joined you two inside.

“Nice little place you have here. It’s… homey.” Tubbo rubbed his hands together and blew warm air on them. You threw one side of the blanket at him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Thanks, I used to sleep here sometimes… How’d you find me?”

“We could hear you,” Tommy pulled out his phone and typed something on it before pocketing it and sitting next to you. He covered himself with the blanket as Tubbo followed suit. You sat in silence before Tommy broke it. 

“How long has she been hittin you?”

“Tommy!” Tubbo scolded him.

“She started about six months ago.”

“Six months ago… that was when you cancelled plans! I knew something was wrong Tubbo.”

Tubbo said nothing as he looked at you with a helpless expression. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Everything’s my fault. I’m the reason my mom’s in the hospital right now fighting for her life. I wasn’t there for her.” You would’ve started crying if it weren’t for the fact that you just felt so drained and numb.

“The fuck do you mean? She was about to kill you! You told us that she was about to stab you, what else were you supposed to do, just let her kill you?!” Tommy exclaimed.

You shrugged, “maybe. If she did she’d be happy, I was just a burden to her. I- I just wanted her to be happy and I would never be able to do that as long as I’m alive. If she killed me she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

“What the fuck (y/n),” Tubbo shouted, startling you. He never shouts, let alone swears. “How could you even say that? I don’t know what I’d do without you, everything would be so boring and nothing would be the same without you. Fuck her happiness, she’s a wretched woman if the only way she can be happy is when you’re dead. Fuck her.”

You and Tommy stared at the seething boy in shock. He never shouted when he was angry, he only did that once when he found out that Tommy was being bullied. Whenever he sweared, that’s when you knew his emotions were hitting him at full force. Tommy quickly recovered from his shock to join him, “yeah fuck her, man! She can go suck a dick.” He was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Dad’s here, c’mon he’s worried sick about you.” After they helped you out of your safe place, they both wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked you to the parking lot. You could see the headlights of the lone car in the lot turn off before the door swung open and a figure rushed towards you. You pushed yourself behind Tommy and Tubbo and hid behind them fearfully. They both turned around and put a hand on your shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s our dad.”

You peeked over their shoulders and saw a mop of disheveled, long blond hair. Philza looked like he was just told that there was an antidote for a fatal poison he just ingested, despite the flash of hurt that showed on his face. His blue eyes were accentuated by the redness of his sclera and you can see the relief painted in them. A gentle smile was on his face as he moved his arms up. Without another word, you launched yourself at him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage with your shoulder.

“Are your accusations true, Mx. (L/n)?” 

Your gaze flickered over to your mother sitting on the other side of the courtroom. She looked at you with no expression on her face. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in a white bandage that was a stark contrast to the bright orange prison uniform and the silver of the handcuffs. She wasn’t the woman you knew when your dad was alive. The life was sucked out of her the second she picked up that phone call.

You looked back at the lawyer, “yes sir.”

“I have no further questions, your honor.”

“You may return to your seat, Mx. (L/N).”

You stood up and walked as confidently as you could past the dull eyes of your mother and back to your seat between Tommy and Tubbo. You held their hands tightly as the trial moved onwards. Buster’s owner even stepped up to the witness stand to give his testimony. Apparently he knew about the abuse from your late night conversations with Buster. He had contacted CPS and the police multiple times but the case was always dropped for some reason that you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder. A few of your previous teachers even showed up to give their testimonies. Their words, though true and slightly sweet, rubbed you the wrong way. If they ‘knew something was happening at home with you’, then why didn’t they do anything when it was happening? You tried to focus on the rest of the trial. 

Your mother’s only witness was herself, and she did a piss poor job at it. She was basically digging her own grave with every word that came out of her mouth. The entire time, she was staring at you with her infamous dull eyes. 

“Do you have any further points you would like to add, Mrs. (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have always loved my child. They were my husband’s pride and joy, the splitting image of him. Their rightful place is safe with their real parent at our home.”

You could feel Tommy attempt to stand up, but you pulled him back down; now was not the time for him to start yelling in anger. Tubbo squeezed your hand in reassurance and glanced at you. You were staring at the woman you called your mother with pain and hate filled eyes. You wished her words were sincere, but you knew fully well that they weren’t. The words that left her mouth would’ve been one hundred percent true  and genuine when your dad was still alive, but he’s buried six feet under in a military cemetary now and he has been for years. You would’ve given anything, even your own life, for those words to be true a month ago, but you knew better now. Mothers don’t treat their kids like this, they’re supposed to give their children their unconditional love and take care of them. As far as you were concerned, she was no longer your mother. She forfeited that title the second she turned to the bottle. Philza is and will always be more of a parental figure than she’ll ever be. 

After the jury left to discuss, the court was in a recess. You slipped out of the room and speed walked to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could see heavy eye bags under your dull eyes. The dullness of your eyes, to your horror, reminded you of your mother, so you splashed your face with water. That fixed it, your eyes were slightly brighter. You could still see the faint outline of the scar on your cheek from when she first hit you. Small scars littered your face from the more recent wounds she gave you before you ran.

A knock sounded at the door, “(y/n), the recess is almost over.” It was Techno.

You patted your face dry and went to leave the bathroom. The pink haired boy that you now saw as your older brother was waiting patiently for you on the other side. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and led you back to the courtroom. There, the rest of the Minec- no, your family was waiting for you. Just as you reached them, the judge announced that the jurors would be arriving back. The entire courtroom stood as they walked in.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

“We have.”

“Mrs. (L/n) and Mr. Langsburg, would you stand and face the jury? You may read the verdict.”

“We the jury of the state court find the defendant guilty under the charges of child abuse and child neglect.”

Tommy clapped a hand on your shoulder as Tubbo squeezed your hand. They both smiled widely at you. You, however, didn’t acknowledge them. You were only staring at the empty eyes of your mother as she was looking at the jury. Her reaction was akin to her breaking a pencil, like it didn’t matter to her. Like all the years abuse that she put you through didn’t matter was as trivial as breaking a pencil. 

“So say you all?”

“Yes, your honor.” 

“I hereby sentence Mrs. (L/n) to twelve years in the state penitentiary with no opportunity of parole. Mr. Philza Minecraft shall be bestowed the custody of Mx. (Y/n) (l/n) as they do not have any next of kin. Court is adjourned.” With that, she banged the gavel and the courtroom exploded in the bustling of people. You never took your eyes off from your mo- no, the monster with the dull eyes as she picked at something in her nails boredly. Just as she looked up to meet your gaze, Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. You were passed around the family in the courtroom for their individual hugs. Philza’s was comforting, Tubbo’s was congratulatory, Wilbur’s was warm, and Techno’s was slightly awkward, yet soft. 

At home, you spent most of your time in the spare room Philza had given you. He had offered to help you decorate it, but you had no idea where to start. You were never allowed to have decorations in your old room. You kept the room simplistic and your possessions light. 

You often stared at your dad’s portrait on your nightstand wondering what your life could’ve been like if you never asked him for McDonalds that day. Your family probably would’ve been stationed in who knows where and moved around often, as is customary in most military families. You probably would’ve never met Tommy and Tubbo in third grade. You probably would’ve never met your now older brothers and new father. You didn’t want to imagine a life without them. 

After a few days of you being locked up in your room, Tommy and Tubbo came into your room with mischievous grins. You knew them like the back of your hand, so you knew the second you saw their faces that they were about to do something. You sat up and looked at them suspiciously. 

“What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing anything, (y/n). Right Tubbo?”

“Right Tommy.” Tubbo nodded curtly. They still had grins on their faces. They walked over to your bed before they picked you up and walked you out of the room. You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you laid limp in their arms. They eventually took you down to the living room and plopped you down onto the couch between them. Techno tossed them a blanket when they then used to wrap you tightly into a blanket burrito. The home screen of Disney Plus was pulled up on the TV and the curtains were drawn. Philza and Wilbur exited the kitchen with glasses of water and two big bowls of popcorn.

They smiled widely when they saw you squashed between your brothers, putting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and three glasses of water nearby. The two next to you dug into the popcorn as the rest of the family made themselves comfortable on the couch. 

“What are we doing?”

“Movie night! We’re gonna binge the Marvel movies, your favorite!” Tubbo grinned at you, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Just double checking, the order is Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Mans One and Two, Incredible Hulk, Avengers, Thor-”

You cut Wilbur off with a mumbled “first Thor, then the first Avengers movie.”

“Glad I asked then! The timeline would’ve been thrown off.” 

As the movies progressed, you started to finally feel like you belonged as a part of the family. Laughter came easier to you, mingling effortlessly with the family’s laughter. Every time you laughed at a scene, they would give you a smile and laugh alongside you. Eventually after about halfway through Captain America: The Winter Soldier, everyone had fallen asleep on the couch. Soft snores and the quiet sounds of the occasional fight scene filled the room as your eyelids started to close involuntarily. You looked around the room at the rest of your family. They all looked peaceful in their slumber. Tommy and Tubbo’s protective hold of their arms around your shoulders made you feel safe. It was in that moment that you realized that they would never let anyone hurt you ever again. You were a part of an actual, loving family. With that, you let yourself fall asleep into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the people that loved you the most. 

General taglist:

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng

[ranhaitanisgf]

Hello so glad to see you write for Shinichiro!! Could I have some headcanons of spending the day as Shinichiro’s s/o with Shinichiro, Mikey, and Emma? Maybe having a picnic or going to the mall together? Just some fluffy Sano family time!

spending a day with shinichiro sano (feat. emma & manjiro sano): headcanons

[𖤐] hii anon; thank you for requesting this!! it was so cute and fluffy to write i kinda melted a little bit when i was writing this aaaa, i hope you like it!! <333

❧ masterlist

--

✂︎ honestly, the day was supposed to be just a casual date with shinichiro; going to the mall and doing some window shopping and maybe buying a few things, then going to the food court to get some food before riding to the riverside to watch the sunset. nothing really out there, but just spending time with him was enough for you, so you didn’t really need any sort of fancy date.

✂︎ at least, that was the original plan. you weren’t sure how you had ended up taking emma and mikey along with the two of you, but frankly, you didn’t really mind. there’s probably a lot of other people who would have some...thoughts, if their boyfriend’s little siblings tagged along on their date, but emma and mikey were always such sweethearts, (to you at least) so you actually thought it was a nice change of pace.

✂︎ hm, well, now that you think about it, the both of them coming wasn’t really supposed to happen in the first place. it was pretty nice weather out, so you and shinichiro had decided to walk to the mall instead of taking his bike. the both of you had figured it would be a nice change of pace and that the fresh air would do both of you some good, but you two were so wrapped up in your conversation with each other that you didn’t even notice the steps following you two. it wasn’t until you were almost at the mall that you and shinichiro had realized emma and mikey had tagged along.

“what were you thinking of buying, (y/n)?”

“hm, i’m not really too sure yet, maybe some-”

“i can’t believe that didn’t see us the entire walk!! we’re just that stealthy, emma!”

“what the hell-”

✂︎ and just like that, your date was crashed by the two little kids who had followed you on your way to the mall. according to emma, the only reason she was here was because she was trying to stop mikey, but by the time she finally was able to pull him back, she didn’t know how to get back home, so she just decided to follow you. according to mikey, he had followed you two because...well, just because he wanted to.

✂︎ mikey’s response earned him a punch on the head from shinichiro, who started yelling about how he can’t just crash his date, ‘just because he wants to’.

✂︎ it was obvious from his body language that shinichiro was feeling pretty exasperated from all this, and you can’t really blame him. i mean, who would expect for their little brother to purposefully follow him while he goes on a date?

“sorry about this (y/n), i should’ve noticed they were following us sooner. if you don’t mind, i can run them back real quick while you go look at some shops, how’s that?”

“...hm, actually, if it doesn’t bother you, how about we just take them with us? i don’t really mind that they came along; i really like emma and mikey, and if we take them with us, then you don’t have to go all the way back. is that alright with you?”

“are you sure, (y/n)? mikey can be a little troublemaker sometimes-”

“hey, shut up!! am not!!”

“yes you are!!”

“i’m sure it’s fine, now both of you stop yelling at each other, people are staring!!”

✂︎ gonna be honest here, the two of you looked like a family when you walked into the mall. mikey was sitting on shinichiro’s shoulders while shinichiro kept a firm grip on his legs, and emma was holding your much bigger hand in her smaller one, looking around a bit curiously.

✂︎ as you all walk around, looking at the different shops, there’s going to be a lot of commentary about literally everything from mikey. he’s going to be commentating on everything he sees, whether it’s clothing or a food stand that he wants to go try, his commentary will just be endless.

“do girls really wear that sort of thing??”

“woah, that looks super cool!”

“can we get the dorayaki that’s over there, (y/n)-nii?!”

✂︎ you’ll probably start to notice emma’s longing glances at some of the things that she sees in the windows. she won’t really say anything about it, but you can tell that it’s something she wants, so you’ll go into a couple of the stores with her, asking what it is that she wants. she’ll definitely be surprised at first, but she’ll get really excited that you’re willing to get stuff for her and will show you the things that she thinks are pretty. she’ll probably start talking about how she wants to be able to wear all of the cute stuff she saw in some of the other windows someday, so you just ruffle her hair and tell her that when the time comes, you’ll definitely buy it for her.

✂︎ your actions don’t go unnoticed by shinichiro, so he’ll just be waiting for you outside the store with mikey, looking at you with a small smile on his face. he doesn’t know why, but whenever he sees you getting along with her and mikey, it just warms his heart and reminds him of how much he loves you and how much he wants to be with you for the rest of his life.

“stop staring at (y/n)-nii, it’s weird.”

“wha- i wasn’t-!”

“yes you were! i saw you!!”

“be quiet mikey, i’m trying to have my moment!”

✂︎ ah, well, he actually does know why his heart skips a beat whenever he sees you smiling and getting along with emma and mikey, but he’ll save that for later.

✂︎ when you and emma walk out of the store, the giddy smile on her face makes shinichiro smile down at her before turning his gaze to you, who was looking at her with a giant grin on your face as well.

“let’s go look at some more places?”

“definitely!!”

✂︎ emma is a lot more vocal from that point onward, pointing out all the different things in the shops that she thinks would look best on you. she actually has a pretty good fashion sense, so you ended up buying some of the stuff that she suggested.

✂︎ she’ll even have you try on all the clothing that she picked out for you so that you can show shinichiro, (she whispers to you it’s so that he’s struck with love when he sees you). her plan definitely worked though; when you came out of the dressing room in the clothes she had picked out for you, shinichiro was wordless for a few moments, so captivated by you that he doesn’t even know what it is he should say. he’ll probably stutter out some words after a few moments, the broken sentence resembling that of a compliment, but you’re not quite sure since it’s all pretty broken up.

“wow, uh, you look, uh...wow, you’re very...wow…”

“shinichiro-nii, can’t you think of anything else?! i thought you were supposed to be their boyfriend!! you’re making my plan fail!!”

✂︎ mikey will probably be more interested in going to the food court, and will be asking every five minutes when you guys can be finished with window shopping so that he can eat because he’s absolutely starving, (it’s a lie, he just wants dorayaki).

✂︎ you’ll probably tell shinichiro that he should probably get some new clothing as well, with emma chiming in that his taste in clothes is kinda boring and that he should spice up his wardrobe, (he feels very wounded by this and puts a hand to his heart as if he’s been fatally shot). with that, the four of you will start to look for new clothes for shinichiro. it’s quite the serious mission, so the three of you will be closely examining him whenever he steps outside of the dressing rooms. it’s also like you three are judges at a fashion show, and if you could, you would all be holding up numbers that were rating his outfits, (the employees are fairly amused by all of this).

✂︎ after you all finally find some new clothes for shinichiro, you’ll be making your final stop at the food court, the place mikey has been pestering you about going to for the entire time you were there. he immediately dragged you all over to the dorayaki place, eagerly asking if he could get one. really though, how could you say no to those eyes?

✂︎ after getting everyone something to eat, you’ll all be sitting down, emma and mikey chomping down and their food, and you and shinichiro resting your feet after all the walking you had just done.

“remind me to never bring you to the mall on a date again.”

“what, you didn’t have fun?”

“no! no, that’s not it, i just...my wallet feels lighter than before…”

“you’re so dramatic sometimes, i swear.”

“but you love me.”

“...yes.”

✂︎ by the time you all are done with your food and are exiting the mall, it’s dark out, and emma and mikey are barely able to keep their eyes open, meaning that for the walk home, you were carrying emma on your back and shinichiro was carrying mikey. the walk back was rather peaceful, but what you enjoyed the most was the whispered conversation you were keeping up with your boyfriend, who was complaining about how mikey was drooling on his neck and he could feel it dripping down to his shoulder.

✂︎ after putting both the kids in their respective bedrooms and tucking them in, the two of you just crash on shinichiro’s bed, tired from all the events that had happened that day. you really had to admit though, it was times like these that you would always remember the most. the way he looked like when he was beside you, his eyes already closed as he rested his head on your arm. god, he looked so pretty…

“hmm, what do you think you’re doing?”

“just fixing the hair of my beautiful boyfriend, that’s all.”

“i see...carry on then.”

✂︎ neither of you bothered to change out of your clothes into pajamas, just deciding to leave them on and stay in each other’s embrace. in your opinion, there was truly no better way to end a day than to have shinichiro on your arms, his head fixed into the crook of your shoulder as he peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw.

“love you so much (y/n)...”

“mhm, i love you too.”

--

[cynettic]

I just read Kitsune reader x yan Scaramouche's fic, may I have gotten hooked on it? and of course, it's just perfect and that's why I'm here to lose a part two with nsfw, thank you in advance and understand if you refuse:3

Link to Part 1

Summary - Taking you captive, Scaramouche continues to see you as a pillar of support. Coming back home to have you there, always. Even if it meant chaining you up.

Pairings - F!Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Smut, slight noncon ( I tried to make it as consensual as possible but its difficult with yandere themes ), fingering, electricity play

Rating - NSFW

Penpal - Ahhh I'm actually beginning to get attached to this series, might end up writing a couple more posts with different hc and stuff. I hope you liked the post though, have a great day <3

A/N - The literal definition of the ‘stoic cruel boy who’s mean to everyone but you.’ Oh well, Scaramouche is ooc af, but I did change a few things in his backstory so its supposed to make sense for this story ;) Also- since we dont know Scaramouche’s actual name, I have the reader still… yknow, call him Scaramouche. Which is kinda weird cause its his harbinger name but oh well. Also, credit to @cycletr4in for proofreading it ;3

Taglist - @cursedraiden

Stay with Me pt.2

Scaramouche was a gentle captor.

In contrast to piercing eyes and harsh stares when it came to others, he had a soft spot for you. Like the ice that encased him whole melted at your touch, craving for the warmth only you could give him. For your arms around him, to play pretend and imagine he were a child, free, fearless, unbound. A child in your arms, safe and protected.

But you were held hostage, which meant that the chains around your wrists and legs held you down and secured you. Like you were bound to one spot like you’d always been, except this time you didn't have a choice.

You weren't waiting for the Kitsune Saiguu.

Hell, you didn't even have your vision.

This brought on resentment for the dark haired boy. You hated him, you despised him for holding you down under his own judgment. But at the same time, all you saw in him was a child, a little kid who hadn't had the time to grow up. The one who refused to do so because it was his only way to survive in the type of world he lived in. Hide behind that same facade he developed as a kid, snide remarks and unrelenting cruelty.

Just to come back to your arms, sobbing because he was still that child. Sobbing because he was still hurt. Sobbing because you were still his beacon of light, of hope.

He depended on you.

And as much as you built up harsh words to use against him, they dissolved in your mouth when you saw him. His vulnerability that he saved for you and you only. A deep part of you cared for him, a little too much.

Gentle fingers brushed through the locks of Scaramouche’s hair, twirling it around and playing with the strands. It was smooth, a small detail no one would have the chance to notice from the distance he put around himself and others. A quiet hum left his lips as he leaned against your chest, eyes fluttering closed against the soothing feeling of you against him.

The lavish silk sheets were soft against your skin, pillow pushing your form to sit up. Just enough to have Scaramouche in your arms, knees on either side of his body as his head rested under your chin. His chest rose and descended, almost on beat with yours, if not just a tad slower.

You hoped he wouldn't hear the way your heart thrummed against your chest.

Warmth, his body flushed against yours, the luxury of a bed and the small candlelight on your bedside. Different from what you’d grown into just on the side of the trail, sitting for decades. Or with your time with the Kitsune Saiguu, it was never this warm, never this gentle.

But this warmth ended at your beating heart, furiously blazing. Sending an urge of adrenaline through your body, whispering ‘run’ through your veins. A primal urge that would've had your hands around Scaramouche’s neck, till he was wrangling and dead.

Till you could escape.

Hand slowly sliding down his jawline, you let your gentle fingers ghost along the soft skin of his neck. Claws outstretched and ready, sharp and pointed with a deadly intent to kill. You could end him so quickly, overturn his trust and make an escape. You deserved it, you deserved freedom. Not a delusional boy who thought himself protector against someone who’s lived decades more than him.

Jolting at the sensation of a soft grip on your wrist, you watched with idle fascination as he simply cupped your wrist in his hold. Not stopping you, not restraining you, he simply brought your hand to his face. To his lips where he pressed the softest of kisses into your palm. So heartfelt and genuine that all you could do was freeze, not even considering clawing his face.

“I love you.”

You both stayed in that position for a few moments more, silence cradling the tension that slowly dissipated from your body. Forlorn eyes watching as he shift the angle of your wrist to kiss your fingertips. He wasn't waiting for an answer, basking in these soft moments where he could hide in your hold. Like a child, forced to grow up too quickly, yearning back for his foolish naivety, yearning for the childhood he missed.

You were that childhood.

Which is why he clung to you so dearly, showed expressions he didnt know he could make, hold you captive under the impression that it was ‘right.’ What he was doing was okay.

Claws retracted, you pursued your lips, holding back the tears of frustration that burned at your eyes. You hated him, hated him for the chains on your wrists, for the disappearance of your vision that you’d given so much value to. Hated him for the warmth he still made you feel.

You hated him.

You felt like a housewife in some respects. Not with the cleaning and cooking part, and of course no children were part of the equation. But in terms of support, you stayed rooted to that room, loose chains too strong for you to break or tug holding you down. Window was too far, and you were stuck moving around the bed and the desk that sat just a little farther away.

Attempts at having your vision back or more freedom in movement had been discussed with Scaramouche, but as childlike and free as he acted with you, he was not an idiot.

“I don’t plan on underestimating you,” was his answer, head resting on the plush of your chest. “You’re strong, always were. But I have to take extremes to make sure you don’t get hurt, some people out there are stronger than you.”

You wanted to point out that there were a ton of people stronger than him as well, but you kept your mouth shut. “Can I at least see the house? I’ve been cooped up here for so long…”

And he cant say no to such an innocent request as that right?

So he unlocks the chains, the vision at his side reminding you that he was strong. You solely knew that he’d been tough as a kid, and under the intensive training he’d seemed to endure, he was much much stronger. You werent willing to give it a go and lose his trust just yet.

Not like he really trusted you anyways-

At the very least, you’d hoped to get some sort of blueprint of the house, and all you’d received was confusion and your mind making up that the house itself was a maze.

“Didnt we… just pass through here?”

Glancing at the obvious frustration on your face, Scaramouche chuckled, pulling your arm through the hallways you swear you’d seen three times prior. “Nope, most of the hallways look pretty similar. The house wasn't built for dumbasses.”

You flashed him a look and were about to make some snideish rebuttal before you saw the smirk. You knew what he was doing, trying to comfort you with casual arguments you both used to have. Consisting of you telling him to work on his people skills, and him calling you a lazy ass. Of course you missed it, but you also knew you couldn't go back to it.

And then there was the issue when you learned that he was a harbinger.

A scene you didnt want to replay in your head, when a maid burst into your room, Scaramouche acting a tad more intimate. He had an awful tendency to do that, hug your waist and press his face against the crook of your neck. Press gentle kisses down the length of your shoulder that had you shuddering. You weren't used to intimacy, and considering you’d watched him grow up, it was just weird.

Stuttering, the maid had demanded that he was requested by the Tsarista. You’d seen the fear in her eyes when Scaramouche slowly turned to her, seen the unshakable immobility of standing under his gaze.

“Do not enter.” He said, “It’s on the door.”

That was the first time you’d seen Scaramouche kill.

You hoped it’d be the last.

But you’d seen death before, so much death in the time of the Kitsune Saiguu. And for a few seconds, you found yourself fearless as you yanked against the chains, yelling at his figure at the doorway.

“Tsarista?” You snarled, standing just a few feet away from him. His hand on the girls neck, clenching around the pretty skin of hers. Disgusted, the chains that held you back from closing the gap and throwing the girl away from him were impossible to overcome. “Why the hell does she need you?!”

‘Let go,’ you wanted to say. ‘Let her go, she’s going to die.’

It worked, because the ironclad grip was gone, the maid tumbling to the ground lifelessly. You’d been too late, and now her blood was on his hands, your hands. This was your fault and you had half the self control not to thrash against the chains with sharp claws, hands on his neck.

The hard steel gaze vanished in an instant, and like he’d regained his senses, he took a few steps to you. Hands clenching to fists before loosening to fingertips brushing against his palms. Confusion, regret and guilt clouded his features like a child waiting to be reprimanded. You didn't back away, stood firm and fierce when standing and keeping a tough front.

You wanted to cry.

“Its… its a long story.” He finally stated to your question, and when you didnt budge, he took a deep breath. In control again, he closed the distance between the two of you, “I’m sorry.” And that same thrum of electricity jolted through your body, sending you into a spiral of the girls lifeless eyes and Scaramouche’s childlike eyes. Till everything went black.

You woke up with the body gone. Scaramouche was gone as well.

You learned that Scaramouche liked to have things his way. Which meant that he was always in control, always had control of every situation.

Even in those short stretches of vulnerability when he rested in your arms, he still held something over you. And you had to adapt, shift for his wishes, coddle him and stay as his beacon. Because he was stronger, and even if you’d find some way to escape, he would find you.

It was odd, and you slowly let go of the image of him as a child, you knew he was a lot older. He’d probably reached the age your body was stuck in, and with every sweet kiss he pressed to your lips, you knew he saw you as some sort of lover. But as someone who wasn't in control, you simply had to play along, just until you found some way to make your escape.

Without killing him.

_-_-_-_-_

“Strip.”

Laying on one side of the bed, your eyes jolted open at the commanding voice. Slowly, you sat up, eyeing the dim figure at the doorway. Without the help of a candle or the moonlight at the window, you could distinguish Scaramouche at the doorway, taking off the large headpiece as he flung it to the ground.

“Excuse me…?” Your voice was soft, rusty after an evening nap.

“I’ll make you feel good,” was his only answer. Slowly making his way to the bedside till he could properly face you. His eyes were soft, but there was an odd sort of determination that you hadnt seen before. You held back his stare, confusion lacing your features when he suddenly started pulling off loose decorations that hung on his clothes. Just till he unlaced the vest and slid off his shirt. “Don’t worry.” But you didnt know quite what he meant until he leaned further to you, catching you off guard.

So you yelped when his hands suddenly slammed down on your shoulders, shifting you to have access to the buttons of your top layer. He was quick when undoing them, simply swatting away at your hands when you protested and tried to pull him away. Throwing it to the edge of the room when he was done, you could only thrash in horror when he undid your trousers just as quickly, pulling them down before you could grab them back up.

“Scaramouche? Hey-”

And then he threw you down on the bed, exposing you in your undergarments in the cool air of the room. Shivers crept up your spine and bristled across your skin, and before you could curl up to at the very least hide away, you felt a tug at your chains. Fear finally settled in when you saw Scaramouche attach the chain to the bedpost, until your hand was lifted up and he began to do the same to the other.

“Wait wait wait, stop and explain what you’re-”

Only then did he pause from what he was doing, slowly looking down to properly face you. His eyes slid up and down your body, and he took a step towards you. “I’ll make you feel good,” were his only words, and you were forced to take them as all he was planning on giving you. Only when he sat on the bed next to you did you realize what he meant, hand settling on your shoulder, waiting.

“Alright,” you said slowly. Painfully, the words bit your tongue, but you were merciless against someone who had control against the situation. You could say no and you knew Scaramouche would stop, he was gentle to you and you only. And even if he’d been firm just before, you knew that he’d still stop if you asked him to.

A part of you felt thrilled to have that power over him.

Another part of you just wanted to escape.

But you didnt have any hope to do so unless you were willing too give him everything. Because he expected everything and would do anything in his power to obtain it. You’d let him fiddle around with this delusion, thinking that he had control. Until he didnt.

Which is why you didnt flinch when his hand gently slid up your stomach, cold against the warmth you’d had under the blankets. Rubbing gingerly against your skin and drawing smooth shapes over before he slowly slid over your body. His eyes seemed to glint under the darkness of the room, lust filled and wanting.

You didnt shift uncomfortably, you pretended to be that doll he expected you to be.

Just staring up at him as he slowly leaned down to kiss you. His lips felt like snowflakes on a winters day, idly swaying side to side to catch one in your mouth. Jolting like electricity when they melted into your touch, red and swollen when he pulled back. You now vividly felt every touch, as if a current flowed and static jittered in the places he briefly brushed his fingertips.

“You always take such good care of me,” he breathed, lips slowly drifting down your chin. Just past your jawline and right on your neck. The space between your head and shoulder, a soft vulnerable spot that had your lips humming at the affectionate pressure. “Its my turn to take care of you.”

And then his lips were everywhere, collarbone, shoulders, cleavage. Just until his teeth were tugging off your bra, face nuzzled in between both breasts. Both of his hands now resided on your hips, grabbing both thighs to hold them up and against him. You could feel him hard, pressing so close to your heated core.

You managed to keep your reactions in check.

Just until he slowly grinded against you, mouth on your breasts as he again pecked the soft mounds, molding his lips against them as if he could remember the texture, memorize the feel. It was just to that point that mindless sounds slipped past your lips, turning to gasps when his hands on your thighs suddenly buzzed, and static rushed in. Your legs felt weak, entire body thrumming in response to the electricity he sent jolting.

He was using his vision.

The realization was numb against his lips on your breasts, hands slowly stroking the skin of your sides, travelling up. He hovered over you for mere seconds before mashing his lips against you once more, different. He was no longer gentle, and it was with the contact on your tail that you lost all control. When he gently moved it out of the way, backing up.

You were a mess.

Not that you tried to be, you’d been doing your best not to enjoy his touch. But it was hard when your core heated up so fast, mashing both legs together in hopes he wouldn't notice. You knew he would, any action beyond that was just you trying to save your dignity.

He sat there like he was enjoying the sight, the first time you’d seen him actually portray any visual confirmation of satisfaction towards the chains. He’d drink dry any ounce of control you gave him, and it was impossible not to give him it all when you were visionless and vulnerable.

But the dignity you struggled so hard to keep shattered when his hands brushed against your inner thigh.

Fingers slowly made their way to the padded fabric of your undergarments, two digits rubbing the area slowly with expertise. You bit your lip, muffling any groan of anticipation, hiding the way your hips tried to rock back into the gesture. Desperate, oh so desperate. Hiding back the whimpers as he slowly quickened the pace of his fingers against your garments. “Archons Y/n,” he murmured. “I haven't even put anything in and you’re already a squirming mess.”

“Shut u-up,” was all you managed, trying to shift away from the pressure against your clit. But his other hand was on your hip, holding in place. You could only watch and press your thighs tightly together as he slowly slid down your panties, resuming hovering over you. Distracting you with kisses, his fingers gently stroked your core, two fingers slowly sliding into your cunt using your juices.

He was gentle when pumping both fingers in and out, too slow when you thrust your hips to meet his fingers, pleading for him to go faster. But he liked hearing your cries, slowing down when you begged, quickening when you whined and just lay there, taking it.

You shuddered the first time electricity jolted from his digits.

It was when he had three fingers that he sent the static up your body, back arching with such intensity that it even had him chuckling. “Oh? You like it that much?” And then it is like something buzzed against your body, fingers vibrating against your clit as your thighs tightened around his hand. So much that you thought you’d crush it, but it didn't matter, not with the electrifying feeling against your body. It felt so odd, so overwhelmingly good that it had your legs sliding up and down the bedside, toes curling as the static grew and you fell paralyzed to his touch.

It didn't take long with his fingers thrusting in and out of you to cum. Moaning mess when he gave you the time to breathe, teeth biting your bottom lip and then mashing against yours. Your eyes grew fuzzy and most happened in a haze, and all you knew the entire time was that you’d given yourself to him, and that it felt good. You couldn't see the childlike wonder in his eyes anymore, not the need of a beacon or of support. No, the look he shared was feral, the smile tinting his lips almost scary. But it felt too good to care, and you let yourself enjoy his ministrations.

He pulled out and suddenly his own shorts were undone, boxers thrown to the side of the room just like all your other clothing. You didn't see how big he was, just felt his hard shaft against your throbbing cunt, pussy dripping and legs open wide and tired after your first go at it.

You expected him to be gentle like he’d been with his fingers. But he pressed the tip against your core, and in one full motion he was in. Teeth grinding against each other, you held back a scream, shock coursing through your body, overwhelmed with pain and discomfort. It hurt. But it was quickly overshadowed by his movements as he slid in and out of you, slow when pulling his hips back, and rocking himself completely inside you each time. A pattern that let you catch your breath and lose it all the same. Like he was continuously having a go at hitting the deepest parts of you, pulling back before fully thrusting into you and sending waves of pleasure and pain alike.

It was expected, but you couldnt hear yourself.

Not with your mind trapped in a haze of how he felt, body still buzzing after how he’d pulsed his vision through you. And now you were at the mercy of his member, hips swaying along with his, no energy for you to rock with him and try to push him deeper.

Archons, you didn't even think he could go deeper.

But you were proven wrong again and again as he kept the steady pace, hands clawing at your ass and hips. Stabilizing himself and trying to press himself against you, as far as he could go. Slowly, his hands drifted up to your hair, playing with the soft sensation of your furry ears. Pinching and rubbing, fingers coaxing the back of them like a massage. So gentle, but it paled in comparison to the harsh treatment of his dick.

You came first, gripping the chain with your hands in an attempt to stay stable. Walls clenching around him one last time before you got your release, your moans turning into cries when he continued to thrust into you. Your body felt numb, all nerves centred on the way he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

When he did, he pressed his head into your chest, his own breaths heavy with pleasure. Not pulling out, you could only lay there helplessly as his seed filled you, warm in contrast to the electricity he’d shot up your body just earlier. He didnt pull out, and laying in your chest, your heavy breathing didnt stop until he was asleep, collapsing on you and using you as support yet again.

Taking only a minute later to regain control of your senses, you shifted uncontrollably at his member inside of you, sending waves of pleasure every time you moved. Your wrists were restrained and you were stuck in this position till morning.

Achingly, you looked down at the boy, wondering how you would ever manage to escape.

[rubysunnday]

she’s a lady

Request by @amirahiddleston​ - may i get #3 with benedict bridgerton x reader in which y/n isn’t a proper ‘lady’ but is often forced to go to the galas?

A/N: I hope this is alright, darling!

Y/N glowered at her aunt. “I cannot believe you managed to convince me to attend this... thing.”

“And I cannot believe that you’re still complaining,” her aunt, Allison, countered. “It will be fine.”

“I’m not a proper member of the ton, Auntie,” Y/N replied, slumping back into the cushioned seats of the carriage. “As everyone keeps making abundantly clear.”

“Lady Whistledown likes you,” Allison said, raising her eyebrows. “As do the Bridgerton’s.” 

Y/N sighed. “Yes, thank you, Auntie. I still don’t understand why you drag me along with you to these things.”

“You entertain me.”

“What am I, your performing monkey?” Y/N asked, giving her a very unimpressed look. “You just like talking to Lady Danbury about how intolerable the rest of society is.” 

“Well, yes,” Allison said, nodding. “But it’s also a good opportunity -”

“Oh, not this again -”

“ - for you to find a husband -”

“ - I do not need you playing matchmaker for me, Auntie!” Y/N snapped, giving her aunt a very pointed and grumpy look. “I’ll be fine.”

Her aunt raised her eyebrows at her niece. “You’ll become a spinster.”

Ah, the dreaded condition known as the spinster. An unmarried woman became known as a spinster when she went beyond the usual age for marriage. This was usual twenty-eight which was, in Y/N’s mind, still fairly young for a woman. 

Y/N groaned and looked out the carriage window, choosing to ignore her aunt’s comment. “Oh, look, we’re here,” she said, thankful that the carriage had pulled up to Lady Danbury’s estate at the right moment. 

A footman stepped forward and opened the carriage door. He held out a hand for Y/N and she took it, letting him help her down the stairs.

“Thank you,” Y/N said with a smile as she pulled her shawl around her shoulders. 

“Y/N!” 

Benedict Bridgerton broke off from his mother and Colin and began walking up to her. 

“Benedict!” Y/n greeted, walking to meet him. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I was dragged along,” Benedict muttered, shooting his mother as disdainful look.

Violet merely gave Y/N a cheer wave as she walked in to the building with Colin and Anthony. 

“Same here,” Y/N replied, shooting her aunt a disdainful look who’d happily caught up with Violet Bridgerton. “Well, we can be miserable together.”

“And perfectly happy apart,” Benedict finished, holding his arm out for her to take. “Miss Y/L/N.”

“Mr Bridgerton,” Y/N replied, smiling. 

Y/N was miserable. She hadn’t been this unhappy since she’d been forced to dance with Lord Berbrooke until Anthony Bridgerton had swung in and saved her.

“Lord Smith, I don’t suppose we could have a break for a few minutes?” Y/N asked as the dance (the third one she’d danced with him that night) ended. “I’d like a drink and a moment to catch my breath.”

“Ever the lady,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Y/N curtsied to him. Lord Smith was not a very nice person and didn’t particularly care about the etiquette of society. Y/N took her chance and tried not to run through the crowd to escape the man. Her aunt had vanished along with Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury and Benedict had disappeared off with his sister and she’d been left to the lion’s den with no one around.

In her haste, she didn’t look where she was going and walked straight into someone.

“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed. She felt herself falling backwards only to be saved from impact with the floor by someone’s hands grabbing her waist.

“Sorry!” Benedict exclaimed, wincing with embarrassment as he caught her from falling on to the floor. “That was my fault.”

“I wasn’t looking,” Y/N replied, waving his concern off. She glanced behind her and silently cursed as she saw Lord Smith heading her way, weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission. “Catch me,” she said quickly, looking up at Benedict.

Benedict frowned. He looked behind her and saw Lord Smith approaching and his frown depended. “What?”

“I’m going to fake a swoon to scare him off, please catch me,” Y/N replied, urgency in her voice. 

She didn’t give Benedict a chance to question her, admittedly, shoddy plan. If she'd had more time - and wasn’t so desperate to just vanish into thin air - she probably could have come up with a better plan. But, as it was, Y/N took a leaf out of the debutantes guid book, closed her eyes and dropped, hoping her friend was going to understand her urgency and actually catch her.

Judging from the gasp that went up around them and the fact she felt Benedict’s arms gently lower her to the floor, she assumed he’d caught on to her plan. 

“Have you been practicing that?!” Benedict whispered, moving her so that she rested against his leg. 

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips but forced herself to keep calm. 

“What happened?”

That was Anthony. Which meant she was now safely out of Lord Smith’s grasp. Y/N slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking up into Benedict’s eyes. 

“Hi,” she said softly, smiling. 

“Have a nice nap?” Benedict asked, helping her sit up. One hand rested on her shoulder and the other was still around her waist - his grip firm and reassuring. 

Anthony handed her a glass of water and raised an eyebrow at her, completely unconvinced by her little act. “You swooned?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Y/N muttered, taking the water and sipping it. “It was an emergency.” She nodded behind Anthony at Lord Smith who was standing next to Lady Danbury and appeared to be getting an earful about three dances in a row from her and Lady Bridgerton. “I was trying to escape.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Benedict chuckled and Y/N felt his chest vibrate with it. She struggled not to smile a giddy smile as she suddenly realised how close she was to him - and the fact his hand was still on her waist. 

“Want to try standing up?” He suggested, raising his voice on behalf of the ton who were watching and listening.

Y/N nodded and let the two brothers help her to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, turning to face Benedict. “I’d like some fresh air, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, Miss Y/L/N,” Benedict said, all but beaming at her. He took her arm and they slowly made their way out onto the terrace - away from the ballroom and the prying eyes of London.

Once they were safely away from the ballroom, Benedict let go of her arm and turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

“The fake swoon?” He asked, crossing his arms and smirking. “Seriously, Y/N? I expected better.”

“What was I meant to do?!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. ““Three dances, Benedict, three. I know I’m not a proper lady but -”

“Don’t say that,” Benedict said softly, taking her hand. 

Y/N frowned. “Don’t say... what?”

“That you’re not a proper lady,” Benedict elaborated. “I don’t like it when you talk about yourself as if you’re nothing.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “Well, in the eyes of society, Benedict, I am nothing. I’m an orphan with almost no dowry and an aunt who’s marriage lasted a month before he died. I come with scandal and a reputation that was ruined before I even arrived.”

“Yet you are as much as a lady as those women in there,” Benedict replied. He raised a hand and rested it on Y/N’s cheek. “If not more. Reputation be damned, Y/N, you are more than worthy of the title of Lady. Heritage and money may buy you the title of lady but it doesn’t make you one. A lady requires grace and agility and elegance. They have to dance and be perfect and - why are you looking at me like that?”

Y/N stared at him. “You and the point of that sentence are further apart than the Earth is from Pluto.”

“I’m trying to compliment you!” He exclaimed, staring back at her. “I was -”

“Going off on a tangent that was entirely unrelated to the start of the sentence!”

“Y/N!”

“Benedict!” Benedict whirled around and marched towards her. For a moment, Y/N thought he was going to yell at her or something alike. 

Instead, he held her face between his hands and kissed her on the lips. 

Y/N, completely stunned by the sudden change in emotion and the fact that Benedict Bridgerton was kissing her froze.

Benedict, noticing her attempt at being a statue, stopped kissing her and stepped back slightly. “I’m sorry that was... I’m sorry. I hope no one saw that -”

“Benedict -”

“If they have, I’ll happily -”

“Benedict -”

“I’m sure Anthony won’t mind -”

“Benedict!” Y/N yelled, grabbing his face between her hands and forcing him to look at her and be quiet. “Shut up.”

Before he could protest, Y/N stepped forward and kissed him on the lips. Her hand moved to the back of his head and she leant forward, kissing him with all the passion and intensity she had for him. 

Benedict broke away from her, panting slightly. “Y/N,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“Yes?”

“Anthony’s staring at us.”

Y/N spun around and, sure enough, Anthony was standing in the doorway to the ballroom, conveniently inspecting a flower bush.

“Anthony,” Y/N scolded, walking forward. “What are you doing?!”

“Ensuring my brother doesn’t ruin a lady’s reputation,” Anthony replied, his arms behind his back.

“For the thousandth time -”

“You are not a lady,” Benedict chimed in, walking up behind her and kissing her cheek. “We know.” 

Anthony smiled and offered his arm to her. “Well, I disagree. You are a lady to me, Miss Y/L/N. And, because of that, I’m now your chaperone.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Y/N quipped, accepting his arm. “Does that mean Benedict has to ask your for permission?”

“I believe so,” Anthony replied. “And besides, I do believe a special license would make an excellent early wedding present for the two of you.”

“Oh, god, Anthony!”

[lyranova]

Hey there! Hope it's not a bad time to ask but would a request for a Liebe x Mimosa fanfic not too out of the blue for you? I've been thinking abt it for a while and I thought the two could make a good pair. (emphasis on "could"). Maybe even the whole thing doesn't have to be romantic but could work as platonic.

Like I imagine the relationship would be like

"one who is trying their best/can't understand love but tries for them anyway" x "Compassionate person/ kindest romance fangirl you will ever see"

Idk if that dynamic is completely trash and is inaccurate but I just wanna check out if the pair could work or not judging by how they haven't seen each other and I havent seen liebe ever interact with the outside world after so many years in a book.

Hiya there! Ooo Liebe and Mimosa, I’ll admit that’s the first time I’ve ever heard of this ship, and it actually seems interesting 👀! It’s the “good girl, bad boy” trope and I actually like it 😁. This fic was more platonic then romantic, but I still hope you enjoy 🥰!

I don’t think the dynamic is trash personally 🤔, I think they’d work well together whethers its platonic or romantic 😁!

Word Count: 685

Warnings: None

———

Liebe sat outside quietly, the squads had just saved the kingdom for what felt like the millionth time in just a single decade. He had to admit he was tired and wanted a break, but then again, he had so much fun working with Asta and the other Bulls that he couldn’t wait for their next mission. But that wouldn’t be for a while since they were still trying to decide who the next Wizard King would be.

He looked over as he saw someone sitting a few feet away from him, at a distance he wasn’t too sure who it was at first, but then they turned to look around and Liebe recognized her.

It was that girl, Mimosa, if he remembered correctly.

She had a huge crush on Asta, and recently he had turned her down when she confessed her feelings, saying that he likes someone else. He didn’t elaborate, but Liebe knew who it was, and he had a feeling Mimosa knew too.

He debated for a bit if should go over and ask how she was, but suddenly her eyes met his. Liebe watched as Mimosa smiled and gave him a wave, he felt his cheeks burn slightly and he quickly looked away.

He continued to look away even as she approached him, he only turned when he heard her giggle.

“ You look so adorable when you blush.” Mimosa teased with another giggle as his blush deepened.

“ ‘Adorable’? Please, what am I? A cat or something?” Liebe muttered with a roll of his eyes as he looked away again, the vermillion haired woman sat down next to him.

“ You do kind of look like a cat, albeit a grumpy one.” She teased again, and Liebe sighed and rolled his eyes again.

Mimosa liked to tease him, and if he were being honest it didn’t bother him as much as he acted like it did.

The two sat quietly together for a few minutes. Liebe was trying to figure out how to ask her if she was okay after Asta turned her down. Of course, he knew she wasn’t okay, but still…he wanted to be a good friend and ask.

“ Are…you okay? I heard Asta turned you down. It must be tough since you’ve liked him for so long…” Liebe started hesitantly, he watched as Mimosa’s smile faltered slightly before it suddenly widened.

“ I’m okay, it stings a little bit, but I’m okay.” She told him with a firm nod. Liebe could see that, even though she was saying she was okay, her eyes told him differently.

He rubbed the back of his head, he wasn’t very good with emotions, but he hesitantly reached a hand out and patted her shoulder.

“ You don’t have to pretend to be okay y’know. You’ve liked Asta for a little over a decade now, so it’s expected that him not feeling the same way would hurt a lot more than ‘just a sting’. So if you wanna cry or yell or scream, then do it. No one would blame you.”

Liebe watched her eyes widen slightly before she looked away, her wide and bright smile slipped from her face and her bottom lip trembled slightly.

Finally he watched the tears well up in her eyes before they spilled over and fell down her cheeks. Liebe awkwardly patted her shoulder as she cried. He wasn’t the best at comforting, but he remembered his mother patting his shoulder and hugging him whenever he was upset.

“ It really hurts, I didn’t think it would hurt so much, but it feels like someone stuck a knife into my heart.” She told him softly, and Liebe nodded in understanding.

Liebe sat there and comforted Mimosa for a while until her tears stopped, it took a while, but they finally did. He told her that she now could focus more on being a Magic Knight, or she could move on and find someone else to love. She agreed, and decided she would first heal her heart and focus on becoming an even better Magic Knight before she gave her heart to another.

———

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day 🥰!

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[oh-my-damn]

The Stranger - Part 1

A/N: Part 1 of my new story The Stranger! This story is also posted on Wattpad, but the chapters have been condensed into fewer parts to make it easier on Tumblr. Page dividers indicate a change of POV!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Evans x OC (No physical descriptions/female character)

Summary: Amelia used to be very infatuated with Chris Evans when she was younger. When her best friend gets a movie role in the Marvel movies and works opposite Chris Evans, she finally gets the opportunity to meet him but is too afraid to.Meanwhile, a charming stranger contacts her on social media and she quickly falls head over heels for him without knowing who he is or what he looks like.

Word count: 7300 (lmao, I’m sorry. This is like 5 chapters combined lol)

Warnings for this part: Some swearing, alcohol consumption. Chris being a lil’ creepy (still cute tho). 

AMELIA

"Tay! Get your ass back here, you're missing the best part!" I yell at my best friend from the couch. We are having one of our many movie nights at his place that he shares with his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, Pierre, and I are both on the couch watching the movie while Taylor is in the kitchen getting more snacks.

"Chill woman, I'm coming!" He yells back at me as he rushes back to his seat.

After about an hour the movie comes to an end and we start tidying up. I go to help Pierre clean up when Tay pulls my arm down to sit next to him.

"Ames.. I need to tell you something. I've been pushing it off because I knew you were going to get too excited to enjoy the movie." He exchanges a look with Pierre as he speaks and Pierre sneaks off to the kitchen to clean the dishes.

"Is everything alright T? You're starting to worry me." I say hesitantly, the look on my best friends face hard to read.

"Yeah, everything is great actually.." He says before taking my hand in his.

"You know how I've been auditioning for a bunch of different roles lately?"

I nod at him. Taylor wants to become a famous actor and he has had some small parts in big Hollywood productions but he wants more, which I have been totally supporting him in. I've watched every single movie he's been in and I am almost more excited than he is whenever he gets a new part.

"Okay.." He says, dragging it out. "So.. I auditioned for this role and I didn't tell you because I didn't think anything would come from it because it's a BIG Hollywood production.. but yeah, I just got word back yesterday and I got the part."

I squeal and throw my hands around him, excited beyond belief. "T!!!" I yell, "That's amazing! Congratulations! Why didn't you want to tell me?!"

He chuckles a bit and looks at me, "Well.. because the movie is with Marvel. And I'm playing opposite Chris Evans."

My heart skips a beat as he mentions his name. For years I have had a (healthy) obsession with Marvel because I used to work for Disney before I started studying law. Eventually that mild obsession trickled into the Chris Evans fandom and at a certain point in time, I was very infatuated with him. I had this insane idea that we would be perfect for each other because we had so much in common (just like every other girl in the entire world). Eventually though, it faded but with that being said, Chris Evans would definitely qualify as being my biggest celebrity crush.

I sit there silent for a few seconds, in shock, as Tay starts laughing at my reaction.

"I.. I'm speechless. That's insane. It's amazing! Also I'm so jealous. When do you leave?" I ask.

"Next week. I have a lot of lines to practice before then but let's hang out a final time before I go. I might be gone for a couple of months." He says back to me, still holding my hand in his.

I pull him in for a hug. "I'm so proud of you although I am going to miss you like crazy."

A few days pass by after Taylor's news and I have to get back to work. I am in my final year of law school while also working part time at a law firm. The past few weeks I have been helping out with a court case and it's been taking up all my time.

Usually Taylor and I would talk almost every day, mostly by talking on the phone or FaceTiming. We've been doing that since the beginning of our friendship, and it's nice with lives like ours where we don't have as much time to hang out physically.

During the week we spoke a bunch and Taylor was getting ready to leave for Atlanta, where he was going to be filming. During the days I didn't have a lot of time to think about how much I would miss him but once in a while it would hit me and make me sad. He is the one person I have to lean on and although I want him to follow his dreams, it sucks that he has to be gone for such long periods of time.

On Saturday I go to his and Pierre's place and we have dinner together and watch a movie. As we're sitting on the couch, Pierre turns to me.

"Ames, I said to T that he should introduce you to Mr. Evans now that he knows him." Pierre is grinning at me from ear to ear as he speaks.

"Oh my god!" I burst out, blushing. "Please don't! Oh god no. I would make a huge fool out of myself. I realize I was crazy about him for a short time in the past but honestly guys, that was like a schoolgirl crush, you know that. He would think I'm insane."

Taylor and Pierre both giggle a little at my words.

"Alright Ames," Taylor says as he smiles at me, "If you don't want me to, I won't. I also don't know if I'll even meet him like that or what the dynamic will be like. Don't worry about it."

TAYLOR

I leave on the evening flight to go to Atlanta. I arrive at the airport at 2.30am and as I check my phone I see a message from Ames.

@Ames Text me when you get there so I know you're safe! Call me as soon as you can, can't wait to hear about set x

@Tay Just arrived! So tired. Will call once I feel like a person again xx

The next morning I wake up in the hotel room the film crew drove me to. It's 10am when I wake up but I feel groggy and confused, like I've slept a full day but also a bit like I didn't sleep at all.

As I put on a pot of coffee I get a text from Kristin, one of the assistants.

@Kristin Hi Taylor, we understand you might be tired from traveling so today we have planned to show you around the set and help you get settled. I will come by at 12pm to pick you up and then I can drive you to set and show you around. How does that sound?

@Taylor Great! Can't wait!

Kristin comes at 12pm sharp to pick me up and we drive to set together.

As we arrive on the massive lot, it's full of people and trailers. I walk out of the air conditioned Range Rover and the Atlanta heat hits me instantly. Damn. That's gonna be uncomfortable.

Kristin points as she walks me through the lot.

"Here are the costume and makeup trailers and down that way the cast trailers. Your trailer is right over there. Let me show you the common areas and I'll take you to your trailer after."

She walks me to some tents that are all air conditioned, thank god, and professionally set up.

"This is craft services. This is where most people spend their day if they're not in their trailer or filming because.. well.. there's food," she says with a grin.

I look at the massive spread with a shocked look on my face. There's so much food.

I've done films before but this set is massive and on a whole different scale than I've experienced in the past. I've also never had my very own trailer before.

"Alright," I say, taking it all in. "This is awesome. Sorry if I'm being quiet but this whole thing is a bit overwhelming if I'm being honest."

Kristin sends me a genuine smile, "Don't worry about it, that's totally normal. And once you meet the cast I'm sure it won't get any easier."

I laugh a little and reply, "Yeah, I'm sure you're right. Honestly, I wish my friend could be here to see this. She would die."

Kristin grins at me, "That's so sweet. Actually it's quite normal to bring friends or family on set from time to time so if you want her to come visit at some point, just let me know."

As we leave craft services she walks me through the set and I see everything. On the way I don't meet any of the cast which is odd to me.

She walks me back to the lot and points to a trailer.

"That one's yours. Get settled and then come back to meet me in half an hour and I will introduce you to everyone."

I go to my trailer and it's massive. It has a kitchen, couch and even a bedroom and bathroom. I plop down on the couch and take out my phone.

@Tay Just arrived on set. I'm in my trailer now. It's massive. I'm meeting the cast soon but I will call you later today, that okay?

@Ames So excited for you! Yeah sure it's fine, I'm at home studying so just call me anytime x

After having a cup of coffee I go back to the lot where Kristin told me to meet her.

She meets me outside and we start walking towards craft services.

"Alright, I understand they're famous but try and play it cool. They tend to not be too fond of people fawning over them," Kristin says with a chuckle.

"Okay I will do my best," I reply with a grin.

I go to craft services and see a bunch of people sitting around. As I look around I start to recognize them slowly.

I see Scarlett Johansson and Elizabeth Olsen sitting at a table eating fruit and Chris Hemsworth and Robert Downey Jr. standing close by, each with a cup of coffee in hand.

Kristin yells out, "Hey superheroes! Meet your newest team mate. This is Taylor James."

I wave awkwardly at the movie stars in front of me and they all give me genuine smiles and hello's.

Scarlett and Elizabeth get up from their chairs and shake my hand, smiling broadly at me.

"So nice with some new people around here! I'm Scarlett."

"Hi! I'm Elizabeth!"

I grin back at them, "I know who you are ladies. You are the baddest bitches of the MCU. My best friend is obsessed with both of your characters and she has made me watch the Marvel movies religiously. I'm very excited to be here and get to be a part of this."

Elizabeth laughs, "Aww, that's so sweet. Please tell her we appreciate that. Whenever someone likes Wanda I always get so excited."

Scarlett chuckles, "Yeah same. Nat has been a part of my life for so long, she's a part of me. It's always a great compliment when girls like her."

"Oh she loves you two," I say, still grinning, "She's excited for both of you to get your own movies in the future."

Scarlett snorts, "Yeah me too."

As I'm laughing at her joke I hear Roberts voice as he walks up to me.

"Hey! What about me? Does your fan friend like me, too?"

I laugh, "Yeah she does. Of course she does. She likes you too, Mr. Hemsworth." I say, gesturing towards Chris, who walked up next to Robert.

"Oh good," Robert continues, "I always appreciate when people are Team Iron Man."

That makes me scrunch my face up a little, "Well, actually..." I say, dragging it out and Robert sends me a warning look, jokingly.

Scarlett and Elizabeth start laughing loudly and patting Robert on the shoulder.

"Oh no, she's team Cap! Poor you Robert!" Elizabeth says while still laughing.

"Who's team Cap?!" I hear an excited voice behind me say loudly.

I turn around and see Chris Evans walk up to me.

"Hi, I'm Chris. Nice to finally meet you Taylor, I have heard so much about you. Now please enlighten me, who's Team Cap?"

I shake his hand and chuckle, "My best friend, Amelia. Major Marvel fan. She used to work for Disney so it's kind of engrained in her."

"Oh yeah?" Chris replies. "What did she do for Disney?"

"She was a manager. She was there for like 10 years I think. She loves Disney," I say with a smile.

The others have started scattering a bit and Chris guides me to a table and sit's down next to me.

"Well, that's great," he says as he takes a sip of his tea. "You know, I love Disney with a passion."

I chuckle in response, nodding. "Yeah, I think I've heard about that in the media if I'm being honest."

He chuckles back at me, "So, if she loves Disney so much why would she ever leave?!" He asks me, jokingly.

"Oh you know, life." I say, shrugging. "She's studying law now. Wants to become a prosecutor."

"Oh wow, big change. Cool. Good for her. Anyway, tell me more about yourself. We have a lot of scenes together in this movie, you're supposed to be my right hand man if I heard correctly." Chris says as he pats my shoulder.

"Yeah, I think so. I didn't get the full script yet, just small bits. But as far as I can tell, we are acting opposite each other for a lot of the scenes," I say back with a smile.

"Yeah, so tell me more about yourself? How old are you? And how long have you been acting?"

"I'm 28 and I've been acting for the past.. almost 10 years I think?" I reply with a smile, "I've had a lot of smaller roles, this one is my first major one. I'm a bit nervous about it."

He grins at me, "I understand, I was too. Don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll do great."

After a couple of hours of getting to know the others, and once I feel comfortable around the set enough, I'm sitting on a couch in the lounge area about to FaceTime Amelia when Chris sits down next to me.

"Hey, just finished filming so I have a few hours before I need to do anything else. Is it okay I sit here and read for a bit?" he asks me.

I look from him to my phone hesitantly.

"Yeah, sure," I say, about to get up, "I'll just go somewhere else so I don't disturb you. I was about to FaceTime my friend, Amelia."

"Oh don't worry about it! You can stay here, I won't mind. I promise to be quiet," he says with a chuckle, "And if you want, I could even say hi? I remember you telling me she was a fan."

I think about it for a split second before Amelias 'Oh god no, please don't!' pops up in my mind.

"Uhm, I don't think that would be a good idea. She might have a panic attack. I should probably give her a warning before she meets any of you or she might drop me as BFF."

Chris laughs at my joke, "Alright, I'll just sit here in silence then."

I chuckle and start dialing the number.

After 2 rings Amelia's smiling face pops up on my screen.

"Hey kid! What's up?" She asks me.

She's in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting at her dining table, her hair in a messy bun and with minimal makeup. Good thing Chris wasn't on the call, she would have fucking killed me.

"Oh nothing much, you know, same old same old..." I say and it makes Ames burst out laughing.

"Yeah," she says giggling, "Just your average day on a Marvel movie set."

"How's it been?" She asks me as she places her phone next to her laptop so I can still see her while she types something on her computer.

"It's good.. Am I disturbing you? Should I call at another time?" I ask her as she keeps typing, clearly preoccupied.

"No, don't worry T. Just give me one sec." She keeps typing, quickly, on her laptop, her face completely focused on the screen.

Chris lifts an eyebrow next to me and leans in slightly, being able to see my phone screen but without Ames being able to see him. He looks at the screen for a second as he tilts his head. He looks back up at me and then leans back in the couch as he goes back to reading.

"Alright, I'm here now," she says, shutting her laptop. "I'm sorry, I just have that major case that I'm working on AND I have finals coming up so it's all a bit hectic."

"Don't worry about it sweetie, all good. So, wanna see the place I'm in?"

"YEAH!" She says loudly, clearly excited. "Show me!"

I flip the camera around and film the lounge area, being careful to not show Chris next to me.

As he hears our exchange, he moves closer to me and watches the screen from next to me.

Ames' camera is still on her, watching the space. I'm speaking as normally as I can because I don't want her to realize that Chris Evans is watching her right now.

He's not moving away from me, studying the screen carefully. I give him a side glance with furrowed brows and he looks back up at me and gives me a short smile. Then he leans back to his former spot on the couch.

As he does, I flip the camera back so Ames can see me again.

"So, tell me about the case then. How's it going?"

Amelia sighs, "It's really hard, T. You know how I feel about these shelters, I really want us to win this case so we can save those poor animals."

As she says the last part I feel Chris shift next to me and as I glance at him quickly I see that, while he is still holding up his book as if he was reading, he is very clearly listening to our conversation intently.

He's tilting his head to the side as he's listening, clearly interested in either Ames or what she's talking about, and it gives me an idea.

Amelia always told me she thought they would get along well if they ever met. That they had a lot in common. Now, I was never a super fan, so I wouldn't know if that was true or not. She was just a fan, it's normal for fans to think that. So I decide to put it to the test.

She doesn't know he's here or listening, so this would be a chance to see if she's actually right or not.

I start asking Ames questions about her hobbies and the case, trying to see if her theory is right.

"Right, the shelter.. Animals.. What animal is it again? I forgot," I say as I look at her with an expectant look through the phone.

She furrows her brows at me, "Dogs. T, you know this. Dogs. Always dogs."

"Right, dogs.." I say, "you're obsessed with dogs. Whenever we walk on the street you always stop for the dogs," I chuckle at her and she chuckles back.

"Yes, I do. I'm kinda disappointed you forgot for a second," she says as she smiles at me.

"Sorry, my bad. My mind is a bit preoccupied.. Anyway, what else have you been doing other than work while I've been away?" I ask her.

"Oh you know, same old same old. Donald Trump had another debate. He's such an idiot, it makes my head hurt."

As she says the last part I see Chris smile out of the corner of my eye.

"I know you think so but you know I'm not into politics like that," I reply.

"I know you're not, but you should be. It's all of our responsibility. He has no experience in politics what so ever, it's ridiculous. And don't even get me started on the electoral college," She says while rolling her eyes.

I see Chris' smile get wider as she speaks. I guess they do have some things in common.

"Right, electoral college.. I don't really understand that part," I say back at her with furrowed brows.

"I'll explain it to you some day, then. But I get it, it's really complicated. Took me ages to understand how it worked."

I decide to tease her a little.

"Alright, let's do that then. Once I'm back from filming. Oh by the way, I met the Marvel cast today."

She gasps, "Oh right! God, I'm so jealous of you. How were they?"

"They're very nice, all of them." I say, smiling, trying not to glance towards Chris on the couch.

"Yeah? Who do you like best?" Ames asks me with a grin.

"Well, RDJ is very funny.. he said something about being Team Iron Man," I say with a chuckle.

Ames glares at me through the phone. "T, don't even. You know we're Team Cap. Forever and always."

"Right, you're just team Chris Evans, don't lie," I reply as I laugh and I notice Chris' eyes widening a bit as I mention his name.

"That's true," she says with a giggle, "he is great. A very sweet and genuine person. At least, I think he is. I don't know him.. just what he seems like in public. But now that you'll meet him you'll be able to confirm or deny so that's great!"

"I did meet him today," I say and she gasps as her eyes widens.

"No shit! Already?! How was he?" She asks me and I can see Chris watching me carefully at this point.

"Very nice. Hot." I say back, laughing, and Chris rolls his eyes at me, holding his book up as he pretends to read, but is clearly still listening to my conversation.

"Oh stop, T. That's not what it's about. I mean, you're right, obviously, but he's also a person. How would you like it if I described you as 'hot' to my friends? I mean you are, but you're also a wonderful person, inside and out. It's what's on the inside that matters."

Chris cocks an eyebrow at her response and I smile back at her genuinely, "I know Ames, I was just joking. Anyway, I think I have to go now. I have to practice lines. I'll call you later?"

"Sure thing! Good luck. I'm so proud of you!!" She says, excitement back in her voice.

"Talk to you later," I say as I give air kisses to my phone before hanging up.

As I put my phone back down on my lap I turn to look at Chris who is staring at me. I give him a cheeky smile.

"What was that about?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Chris. I was just catching up with my best friend."

I smile at him as I hold his gaze.

"Right.. The Disney employee turned lawyer. Was that for my benefit she was saying all of that?" He asks me, clearly suspicious.

"Oh god no. If she knew you were here she would have definitely changed outfits and put her hair down. Definitely makeup too. Also... she would have killed me." I say back and it makes him laugh.

"Alright... She seems very sweet," he says and as he looks back down at his book, he mumbles, "Very pretty."

"You think so?"I ask him, cocking an eyebrow at him, "I guess so. I just see her as Ames. Also I'm gay, so while I do think she's beautiful I'm not sure if it's in the same way as straight guys think." I shrug and chuckle.

"Yeah, maybe not.. How old is she?" He casually asks, still looking at his book.

"She's 29. She will be turning 30 in a few months."

"Okay.. How does her boyfriend feel about her celebrity crushes?" He asks jokingly while making eye contact, a smile on his face.

"Oh, no boyfriend," I say, "She's way too busy with law school for that. Besides, she wants a man that has his own life and hobbies. Boys in the past haven't had much understanding for how busy she is with work. It's been hard for her. But her dream is being a prosecutor and she's been so focused on that for so long, she would rather do good in the world than get married."

"Interesting.." He says before closing his book and getting up from the couch. "Alright, well. See you later. Thanks for giving me a bit of insight into your personal life," he says with a grin.

"Sure thing! See you later."

After my phone call with Ames I practiced lines and after a few hours I had dinner with the other cast members.

Their dynamic is amazing - most of them have known each other for several years and they all act as one big family which is wonderful. They ask me a bunch of questions about my life and I tell them about Pierre.

Lizzie mentions that she would love for him to come visit so they could meet him.

"Oh I would love that but it's a long way from home and he is finishing up his masters degree so it's not always easy to get the time off. But Kristin told me it's quite normal to get visitors so I might try to get him and Ames out here at some point," I say with a smile.

"Who's Ames?" Robert asks.

"Amelia. That's Taylor's best friend," Chris interrupts me, "I listened in on their phone call today."

I grin at him before saying to the others, "Yeah, Chris totally invaded my privacy today." And it makes the others laugh.

Chris chuckles a bit before continuing, "Yeah, she's a big Marvel fan but from what I could hear, she's a very supportive friend, too. Friends like that are good to have in this job - hold on to her." He looks at me genuinely and smiles.

"I will," I say as I reciprocate his smile.

"Also," he says, "She's Team Cap so she's definitely a great person."

Everyone laughs at that except Robert who sends Chris a look before chuckling.

Once dinner is over, I go back to my hotel room and settle in. After about an hour I hear a knock on the door.

As I open it I see Chris Evans standing in front of me, a six-pack in hand.

"So, since we're meant to be best friends in this movie," he says, "I thought it might be fun to spend some time together."

"Yeah, I'd love that" I say as I gesture for him to come inside.

He sits down on the couch and puts the beers on the table before grabbing two and opening them. I sit down facing him on the couch.

"So.." He says as he hands me one of the beers, "How are you feeling after today?"

"I'm feeling good. Very excited. Everyone is so welcoming, I honestly didn't expect to feel this at home already, but I do."

"That's good" he says, smiling at me. "That's important. I've been on many different movie sets but the Marvel ones have definitely been my favorite. These people are like family now."

"I can understand that," I say before taking a sip of my beer, "You guys have been doing this for so long, it's understandable you would feel that way about each other."

"Yeah," he says as he takes a sip of his beer.

"So, Chris," I say as I look at him, "Let me know if this is too forward but can I ask you some questions?"

He chuckles at me, "Yeah sure.. Is this like an interview thing?"

I laugh, "No not at all. I just want to know what I'm getting into with these movies. You seem very private and I would just.. I don't know.. Like to know how I could have that same level of privacy in my life once this movie comes out."

"Well.." He says as he furrows his eyebrows, "There's no such thing as privacy. I do the best I can, but it's hard. Relationships, family, friendships. Fame will put a strain on those things. I do what I can, spending as much time as I can in Boston instead of LA for example, but honestly it's a 'learn as you go' situation. I wasn't ready for this when it happened and so I had to adjust as I went along with it. I do miss going out with my friends, or going grocery shopping, without anyone recognizing me. I also miss having relationships without being judged by the world."

"Oh, right.." I say, "I never thought of that part.. What do you do?"

"Keep it secret, mostly. But that can be hard. It's usually not what the other person wants.. You know?"

"I understand," I say as I smile at him, "I don't know if I could do that."

"It's definitely not for everyone," he says as he takes another sip of his beer.

"In the public it seems you've been single for years, as far as I'm aware, but I guess that's not the truth then?" I ask him, curious.

"Well, yes and no. I have dated and kept it out of the spotlight. It's easier when you date 'normal' people. With actresses or other famous people, there's a much bigger chance the truth will come out."

"So you're dating someone in secret now, then?"

"No, not right now. I did date someone for a while a few months back but it ended, once again, because I was adamant that I wanted to keep it out of the public eye."

"Right.. why are you so adamant of that? Sorry if I'm intruding, I'm just curious and honestly this is good insight into what I might be getting into."

"I get it," he says, chuckling, before taking another sip. "My image is the 'handsome bachelor'. I went public once and the fans went crazy. It ruined it. I don't want to do that to another person if I don't know it's for the long haul."

"I understand" I say, drinking my beer.

We sit for a few hours and talk and get to know each other better. He asks me about my family and Pierre and what I want for my future. I get to ask him as well and although he is being a bit careful about his answers I do feel like we bond.

The next morning I'm in the lounge area reading lines when I get a FaceTime call from Ames.

I look around, making sure no one is around, before answering.

"Hey Ames!" I say as I smile broadly at her.

"Hey T! Sorry I didn't call you last night, I was totally swamped with work."

Amelia is in her work clothes, clearly at the office today. Her hair is done and she's wearing a suit. Her makeup also looks flawless.

"Oh, don't worry about it Ames. I was busy anyway. You look great today by the way, work it girl!"

She laughs at the last part.

"Thanks T.. So what did you do? Tell me everything!"

"After we hung up I practiced my lines. There are so many! I need to read every day or I forget them," I chuckle. "Then I had dinner with the others and in the evening Chris E came by with some beers and we got to know each other."

She blinks at me a few times, clearly stunned by what I just said.

"I'm sorry.." She says with the same stunned look on her face, "You hung out with Chris Evans?!"

I laugh, "Yeah, I did. It was really nice. Nice to get to know him better."

"Yeah I bet!" She exclaims, "Have I told you how fucking jealous I am?"

"Funny you should mention that," I say, "It's actually quite common for the cast to have friends and family come visit set."

Amelia widens her eyes at me as she realizes what I just said.

"T.... no. No no no. I can't."

"Why not?!" I practically yell at her while laughing.

"BECAUSE! You know why! I would make a giant fool of myself!"

"No you wouldn't, stop being silly, Ames. They would love you. I told them you're Team Cap and Evans is very excited about it."

She glares at me through the phone, "No you didn't!!"

"Yeah. I did. Now shut up and figure out when you can come see me. In a few weeks would be best."

"Fuck you T. I hate you so much right now." She says, sighing and chuckling.

"No you don't. You love me."

"A lot less right now, that's for sure!" She yells at the phone before looking around. "Alright, got to go. I'm going to court today for the shelter case. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck sweetie, don't forget you're the baddest bitch in there!" I say back at her with a grin.

"Right, I'll remember that as I speak in front of the judge. Thanks." She says with a chuckle before she hangs up.

I smile and shake my head as I put my phone back in my pocket.

As I'm about to pick up my script I feel a body plop down next to me on the couch.

"So, how often do you actually speak to her? I feel like you talk to her more than you do your boyfriend."

I look at Chris Evans grinning at me as he sits at the end of the couch, facing me.

Was he listening in on my conversation again?

"Yeah," I say with a laugh, "I think I do. She's one of my favorite people. No offense to Pierre but to be fair, I have known Ames a lot longer."

"She seems like a lot of fun. I would love to meet her," he says with a smile.

I look at him in surprise, "You would?"

"Yeah," he says, dragging it out. "I think we would have some fun. Does she like to go out partying and dancing?"

I snort, "If you knew Ames you wouldn't be asking that question. She's the life of the party when she goes out, although lately it has been a rare occurrence."

"Alright, well, when she comes to visit we could all go out together and I could get to see the life of the party in action," he says with a grin.

I turn to look at him.

"Honestly, Chris, I appreciate it.. But I'm not sure she would want to. She would be so out of her comfort zone, so shy, I'm not even sure if she would act like herself."

"So how do we get her to get comfortable about coming then? I'm sure you want her to," he says while tilting his head.

"I don't know really.. I think she would be so scared to meet you all and whether she would make a good impression. You need to remember she used to work for Disney and knew every single trivia in the fucking world. She had to study these movies for work. I don't know man, it might be weird."

"Hmm," he says as he looks away, clearly deep in thought. "Let's come up with something that would take that whole situation out of the equation then."

"Why do you care so much?" I ask him, furrowing my brows.

"I.." He starts saying before cutting himself off. "I just know how much she means to you and I think she would have a lot of fun with all of us. From what I've learned, invading your privacy, I think she would fit in well. That's all."

I narrow my eyes at him, "Okay.. If you say so.. So what do we do then?"

AMELIA

After I finish my call with Taylor I work some more before appearing in court.

It didn't go to plan. Not at all. We lost the case.

I go home to my empty apartment and have dinner. The entire time I feel like crying.

I called Taylor earlier with no answer, and I contemplate calling him again, because usually he is my shoulder to lean on, but I know he's busy right now and I don't want to be a downer.

After dinner I study for finals and at midnight I finally change into my PJ's and head to bed.

I'm scrolling through instagram when I get a notification. As I check I see a message from someone I don't know.

The profile has a weird name and no picture.

I open the message, expecting it to be a scam for some store or something, but the message just says, 'Hi. How are you?'

I look at the message and normally I wouldn't reply to these sort of things but today was a shit day for me and I am in desperate need of talking to someone.

So despite my better judgement, I decide to reply.

@AmeliaJ Hi. I'm honestly having a shitty day today so I'm really not in the mood for this. Who is this?

@81CRE Why was your day shitty?

@AmeliaJ Seriously dude? Who are you?

@81CRE A friend. If you let me. Why was your day shitty?

I sigh at the response. I don't really have anything to lose by talking to this stranger, do I?

@AmeliaJ Well, I lost a court case today that meant a lot to me and that I had worked really hard on. I have finals soon and I'm freaking out and also my best friend is across the country.

@81CRE Sorry to hear that. Wish I could do something to help.

Seriously, who is this person?

@AmeliaJ Yeah thanks. How was your day then?

@81CRE My day was pretty good, actually. Had some fun at work with some good people.

@AmeliaJ Well at least one of us did then. I'm glad you had a good day. What do you do for work?

When I don't get a response, but the message clearly says 'seen', I sigh and decide to go to sleep.

Should have listened to my instincts, I guess.

TAYLOR

The next day I wake up to a missed call from Ames but I'm running late and don't have time to call her back. Today is my first day of filming.

I go to costume and makeup and sit down in a chair next to Evans.

"Hey man," he says, "How are you?"

"I'm great!" I reply, "So excited to finally be filming!"

"Yeah me too," he says as the stylist does his hair. "It'll be good to see our chemistry on screen."

"Oh yeah, for sure." The makeup lady comes up to me and says a bunch of stuff, and I just nod because I don't fully understand.

After a second she starts working on my face and I just let her do whatever she wants, not asking any questions. Not just because I have no idea what she's actually going to do, but also because she seems a bit scary and I don't want to set her off.

Chris is on his phone the entire time and I take mine out as well.

@Tay Hey Ames. Today is packed, filming for the first time. Sorry for not answering last night. Call later?

@Ames No worries sweetie. Good luck on your first day! X

I also text Pierre. I've been speaking to him every day and texting before work. We text back and forth about how everything is at home and I tell him about what I'm doing.

"So.." Chris says, interrupting my texting, "No phone call today?"

I look at him with a smile, "Nope. Probably later. Ames has been really busy with work. But we texted."

"Oh yeah? How is she doing?"

"Fine, I think?" I reply, furrowing my brows at him. I know he's just trying to be nice but it also feels a little strange for him to even be asking me about her.

He looks at me for a second before looking back down at his phone.

"Okay, good," he says while still staring at his screen. "So what did you decide? How will you get her to come visit?"

"I don't know. We didn't really figure that part out yesterday. Maybe she'll be more comfortable in a few weeks."

"Yeah.." He says, dragging it out, still fixated on his phone.

The makeup and hair people finish up and we both go to costume to get changed.

After a few hours of filming we finally break for lunch.

The scenes went great, as far as I'm aware. I didn't mess up my lines and the director seemed happy.

Chris and I go to craft services together to get lunch.

After getting food we sit down at the table, Chris across from me.

We talk for a while about trivial things and he compliments my work on the scene.

As we're talking about our upcoming scene, my phone rings.

"Oh sorry, this is Ames. Do you mind?" I ask him as I look from the screen to him.

"No, not at all. Go ahead," he says with a smile, taking a bite of his food.

I answer the phone and see Ames' face. She's smiling a little but definitely not as much as usual.

"Hey Ames! Sorry for being MIA today, I had filming."

"That's great T. How did it go?" She replies, but her usual excitement is missing.

"It went well, I think. The director seemed to be pleased."

"I'm so proud of you," she says with a solemn smile.

"Everything okay?" I ask her as I notice her usual good spirits are lacking a bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine.." She says hesitantly. "I don't want to be a downer. I know you're doing important stuff."

"Hey, don't say that," I reply as I furrow my brows at her. "Tell me what's going on."

"It's no big deal.." She says but I can see her tearing up a bit. "We lost the case and it's honestly been getting to me."

"You lost the case?" I ask her, shocked. Considering how hard she and her firm have been working on it I was sure they would win.

"Yeah, we did. And now I feel really bad. I'm in my head, so worried about all of it. Without us who knows what they will do to those poor animals," she says with a sniffle.

A tear falls down her cheek as she speaks and it makes my heart hurt.

"Oh Ames, I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

"Nothing," she says, wiping the tear off her cheek with the back of her hand before smiling weakly at me, "Thank you for being here though."

"Always." I say as I smile at her.

"Listen, T.. I have to go. I've got my finals tomorrow. I'll talk to you later. Thank you for being you."

"Anytime," I say before she hangs up the call.

I put my phone back down to see Chris staring at me from across the table.

"Is she okay?" He asks, seemingly concerned.

"Yeah, she'll be okay. She was just really hoping to save those animals."

"What's the case?" He asks me as he keeps his gaze on me.

"It's this shelter back home. They're going bankrupt and they have to euthanize the animals. Ames was working on the case to help get government funding for them, but they lost. She got her childhood dog from that shelter so the entire case has been very personal for her."

"I see.." He says as he looks down at his food, picking at it. "They're out of money? Is that it?"

"Yeah, pretty much I think. Nothing to do about it now though. Poor Ames.."

Chris nods at me a bit before going back to picking at his food.

"Filming in 10! Get ready people!" A voice yells out, making Chris and I both get up to go get ready for our next scene.

Part 2

[alisonsfics]

an actual hero

pairing: bucky barnes x reader (little bit of biker!bucky)

summary: you’ve been john walker’s girlfriend since high school. he’s the only man you’ve ever loved, but that may change when a certain serum causes him to risk your life.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: tfatws spoilers, violence, choking (in a violent, not sexual manner), concussion, passing out, john walker going on a rampage

You saw the news and you were instantly worried. There was a big fight going down with the Flag-smashers. Then you saw him.

John.

Your boyfriend since high school.

Your second half.

He was there, fighting against the Flag-smashers. You both had butted heads over the Flag-smashers issue. You agreed with their goals, but just thought they were approaching it the wrong way. John disagreed. He hated them, truly hated them.

You didn’t blame him after what happened to Lemar, but you had never seen this kind of rage in him. He was consumed by it. You assumed that Lemar’s death and the pressure to be a good Captain America were taking a toll on him.

You knew you had to stop him. The news showed him fighting with the kind of rage that made your skin crawl. You knew you had stop him before he made an irreversible mistake.

You raced down there as fast as you could. You found John instantly. He grabbed one of the Flag-smashers by the neck and held them up against the wall. His feet dangled helplessly below them. John held him up in the air with virtually no effort. He seemed strong, too strong.

“John! You have to stop this” you yelled at him, trying to deescalate the situation. He was shocked to hear your voice. He dropped his grip and turned to face you.

By now, you had gained the attention of Sam and Bucky, who were confused about the mysterious woman who had just appeared.

You hoped he would turn to see you and recognize that he had gone too far. Instead, you only saw anger in his eyes when he looked at you. The Flag-smasher ran away from John, past you. “You’re letting him get away” John said, trying to run past you.

You stepped into his path, putting your hands on his chest. “Please, John. You’re taking this too far” you begged him to stop. You didn’t see any sign of hesitance in his eyes before he shoved you into the road.

You fell to your knees on the rough pavement. You could already tell that you had cut up your hands as you tried to soften your fall. You quickly stood up, not wanting to be in the road when a car drove by.

You still had Bucky’s attention. He was still confused about how you knew John. Him and Sam both watched as you picked yourself up off the ground.

Then, you were blinded by a pair of headlights. One of the armored trucks was coming straight for you. You froze.

You felt every muscle in your body go still. You fought to get your legs to move, so you could run away. Your body stayed firm in its place.

“She’s not moving” Bucky mumbled, before running towards you. His whole body slammed into you, as he pushed you out of the street. You got the wind knocked out of you, and you landed flat on your back on the hard concrete.

Bucky came crashing down on top of you. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened. Your senses were on overdrive.

You looked at the unfamiliar man above you who was staring straight back at you. You knew him from the news, but you had never met him. “Are you okay?” He asked you, carefully. You were still in shock, so you nodded your head.

“You just saved my life” you said, breathlessly. He just gave you a small smile, before rolling himself off of you. He winced and got up on his feet. You felt him grab your hands as he helped you stand up.

You felt light-headed as soon as you stood up; you felt a throbbing pain in the back of your head. “Wait...my head kind of—” you started to say before you blacked out.

Bucky panicked as he watched you start to go limp. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. He swept his arm under your legs, picking you up bridal style.

When you opened your eyes again, you realized you were on a stretcher inside of an ambulance. You looked around, trying to take in your surroundings.

The ambulance wasn’t moving, and the back doors were open. You saw a paramedic sitting next to you; they were taking notes on a clipboard. Then, you saw Bucky on your other side. He wore a concerned expression.

“You’re awake” he said, softly as his eyes met yours. He seemed slightly less concerned. “I don’t understand. What happened?” You asked, confused.

He noticed your panicked look and took your hand in his. “Do you remember the truck in the street?” He asked you, slowly. You nodded your head, bits and pieces starting to come back to you. “When I pushed you out of the way, you hit your head on the sidewalk. You got a concussion, and then you passed out” he told you.

His thumb subconsciously started to rub back and forth on the back of your hand. Both your eyes went to your hand in his, but neither of you made an effort to move your hands away.

The paramedic turned her attention towards you. “I completed a test, and you’re fine. You have a concussion. Just make sure you get some rest and drink lots of water. You’re good to go” she told you, giving you a polite smile.

“Here let me help” Bucky said, helping you sit up on the stretcher. He kept his hands on yours as you carefully stepped out of the ambulance. “I’m Bucky, by the way” he said, smiling at you.

You felt a school-girl smile appear on your face. “I’m Y/N. Thanks for saving my life” you said, bashfully. Then, another man walked up towards the two of you. You recognized him as Sam.

“Y/N, this is Sam” Bucky said, introducing the two of you. You smiled at him and shook his hand. “Are you okay? I saw Walker push you in the way of that truck. How do you know him anyway?” Sam asked you, curiously.

You noticed he was wearing his Captain America suit. You had only ever seen him in the Falcon suit before. You wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but you knew he was a better fit for the job than John.

“I’m fine; it’s just a concussion. John is my boyfriend or was my boyfriend. Risking my life might just be a small dealbreaker” you joked, trying to lighten the situation. In reality, you wanted to punch John in the face. You had stood my his side for years, and this is how he repaid you.

They both lightly chuckled at your joke. Then, as if on cue, John came marching over. “There you are. We’re going home” he said, grabbing your arm. You struggled to pull your arm away. He had always been strong, but he was stronger now.

“Get your hands off of me” you said, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp. Within a second, Bucky had pried John’s fingers off of you. “She told you to keep your hands to yourself” Bucky said, bending his fingers backwards until he winced.

Then, he finally let go. He put his hand on your forearm. “You okay?” He asked you, softly. You just nodded your head, too scared to say a word in front of John.

“What the hell is going on here? You think you can just swoop in and steal my girl?” John asked, starting to walk towards you and Bucky. Sam quickly got between John and you.

“We fought you once, and you lost. You want to try again?” Sam taunted. John crossed his arms. “This is between me and my girlfriend” he snarled.

Bucky also shielded you from John. “I’m pretty sure that girls don’t stay with boyfriends who almost get them killed” Bucky said, keeping one hand on yours.

You felt safe behind Bucky. You had just met him, but he was very protective. You knew that he wouldn’t let John anywhere near you.

John huffed, his telltale sign that he was giving up. He walked away from the three of you. “Why did you ever stay with a guy like that? He’s kind of awful” Sam asked you. You shook your head. “He didn’t use to be like that. He used to care” you told them, watching as John walked away.

“Why is he...so strong?” You asked, barely able to find the words. It was the thing you had been struggling with since you saw him fighting that Flag-smasher. Something didn’t feel right. “They took a blood sample and found out he took the serum” Bucky told you.

You were stunned. “Like the super-soldier serum?” You asked, still in shock. They both nodded.

You scoffed to yourself. “He used to talk about much he hated super soldiers. He said real heroes didn’t need a special potion to make them strong” you said, only now seeing his hypocritical nature.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a ride?” Bucky offered. You ignored the smirk that Sam sent his way. “That would be great” you said, smiling.

Bucky hugged Sam and then walked past him. “The suit looks great, Cap” you said, as you walked past him. Bucky led you over to a motorcycle.

“Why am I not surprised?” You asked, giggling. He turned around to face you, and pretended to be offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, smirking at you. You shrugged. “You have the whole biker aesthetic: the leather jacket, the boots, the withering stare” you teased.

He chuckled as he picked the helmet up off the seat. “Here. No more concussions” he said, tightening the strap once he put it on your head. You told him the name of your apartment building. He nodded before you even told him the address.

“I grew up in Brooklyn. I know where it is” he said, getting on his bike. He patted the seat behind him and you swung your leg over the back. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist, and rested your head on his back.

He turned on the ignition, and it roared to life. You gave him a thumbs up to tell him you were ready. Soon, you were driving down the streets of Brooklyn.

You expected it to be fast and daring, but instead, it was peaceful. You watched the city whipping past you: the taxi cabs, the street performers, and the illuminated billboards.

He pulled up to your apartment in a matter of minutes. He helped you off the bike and took the helmet off your head. You shoved your hands in your pockets because you didn’t really know what else to do with them.

“Thank you—for everything, I mean” you said, shyly. Bucky hesitated. You could tell he wanted to say something, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

He fiddled with the straps of his leather jacket, nervously toying with them. “I know we just met, but would you like go get dinner sometime?” Bucky asked you. The smile on your face grew ten times bigger. “I’d really like that” you said, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He was shocked, but eventually kissed you back. He lips tasted like cinnamon. You could feel him smiling as you kissed him. His fingers hooked in your belt loops and pulled you closer to him.

You both pulled away with smiles on your face. He gave you a small piece of paper with his phone number on it.

As he drove away on his motorcycle with you waving from the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but want to thank Dr. Raynor for encouraging him to let people into his life.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @bookfrog242 @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjkiki @weirdfishy @lickmymelaninn @hailey-a-s @andreasworlsboring101 @glassesandthunderthighs @holding-on-to-my-youth @fanofalltheficsx @lukes-orange-beanie @golden-hoax @mostly-marvel-musings @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @v-is-obsessive @i-wish-i-knew-what-i-was @reniescarlett @multiplums @alotofrandomfangirling @bbl32 @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @mylifeiscrazy0423 @spid3rgwen @velyssaraptor @supernaturaldisco @bucnananbitch @shyconversationalbookworm @ivegotparticulartaste @chauntaayyy @vicmc624

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

Requests OPEN