#the drunken stories everyone has to tell are next level shit

[cowboylikeyouu]

i'm super drunk rn, but it's christmas and that makes me wanna yap about how much i love my family, there's literally nothing i appreciate more in life. my grandpa has 9 siblings and all together they got like 24 children, and each of them has a partner & most of them have children of their own, meaning there's roughly 44 kids in the 4th generation of our family rn (i'm the 5th oldest, while most of the others are under 10 yo). and the most insane thing??? everyone stays in contact with everyone and we all love each other, and we have an extended family get together at least once a year (if no one gets married etc, if so, it easily becomes twice to ♾️ a year) and it's the most amazing thing ever. i swear, if i could i would marry every single one of you guys who's stuck in toxic families just so you could experience this feeling i feel every day of my life <3

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[narutogwriting]

Greetings! It I. Whomever the f*ck that is!

I don't know if anyone's every told you, but your writing is absolute Grade A Quality. And I, as in me, happen to nurse quite the interest for said A Grade writing. Shocking, is it not? Foolish! Of course it is not! Surprising. That is. It IS the best writing afterall! I- Hm... ఠ_ఠ

Okay, I'll stop horsing around, sorry,,,

I have come to make a request if that is alright with you and you do not have too many already!

I recently discovered the song "Heart Attack" by Deni Lovato and would really love a little story with boisterous and playful reader that's had the second longest-standing crush(after Hinata's, cuse, MAN, that girl be the inventor of pinning no jutsu) known to everyone, but Lee, where the crew could be out throwing one of those rare party where a majority of them can be present, eventually ending in a karaoke where the fuzzy warmth of what little alcohol the reader drank gives them the little bit of missing courage(or sensibility) to, just, climb on a table and spill all their feelings, love and frustration into this one song before loudly announcing that This One's For Lee, like a challenge.

If you would have the space/kindness to add the aftermath where the reader immediately sobers up after comfessing and just, absconds through a window, I would be the most grateful gal alive,,, >v<

I'll venmo you a goat.

Okay this was seriously WAY too fun to right Naruto is my one true love but Rock Lee was my first Naruto crush<3

HEART ATTACK

Pairing: Rock Lee x Reader

CW: good old fluff

Length: 3.6+

Summary: Rock Lee has been your not so secret crush for as long as you can remember. You’re determined to take it to your grave, but what happens when you’re drunk at a karaoke bar doesn’t stay at the karaoke bar...

The music was loud, the room was dark, and everyone was there. How long had it last been since everyone was able to get together?

The life of a shinobi was a busy, dangerous one. There was little time for laugh and play, especially as you all got older. It was easier when you’d just graduated from the academy. All of the missions given to new genin were level D to C, little things like gardening or finding lost pets that didn’t take much time or require you to even leave the village. It was easy for everyone to find time to get together and hang out.

But as time passed, things changed. Everyone’s ranks were different, some people like Shikamaru took up more political roles in the village. It was easy to drift apart without even realizing it.

So tonight was one of those rare moments where the stars aligned and the old group was able to get together to hang out.

The venue of choice; a karaoke bar.

It was the first time you were all able to drink together… Well, legally at least.

“Thanks, Kiba.” You giggled, giving him a flirtatious wink as you took the drink he’d just bought you, sipping it. Did you like Kiba? No. But was he fun to flirt with? Absolutely. And if that flirting led to him wanting to buy your drinks for you, well, who were you to deny him?

Kiba was cute; that wasn’t the problem. Heck, most of the guys from the Leaf were cute and way too easy to get along with. You’d known them practically your whole life, grown up together even, but despite all their great qualities, it was only one shinobi who had your heart, and he didn’t even know it. 

The first time you’d seen Lee was before the first test in the Chunin exams. He had easily taken on Naruto and Sasuke without batting an eye. He was so swift, so smooth, you’d watched him in awe. He was a bit eccentric, but had a focus and prowess you’d never experienced before. You thought he was amazing.

You were content to watch him from afar until the preliminaries. During his fight with Gaara, you’d held your breath, watched in horror and amazement as he took on the demon of the sand. You didn’t think you breathed once during that battle.

Lee lost, was almost killed by Gaara before Guy stopped him, but it was the best you’d ever seen someone fight in your life.

Timidly and nervously, you visited Lee in the hospital that day. He was unconscious, but in stable condition. You didn’t know what motivated you, but you began to visit every day, leaving flowers and small treats for Lee to wake up to.

When he finally had woken, you were trying to slink out of the room quietly when you heard him speaking, causing you to freeze in your tracks. 

“Who are you?”

Apprehensively, you turned to face Lee with a small smile. You’d never been shy, but there was something about Lee that made you weak-kneed.

After introducing yourself, you went back to his bedside. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re very strong. You’re so skilled and quick; I think you’re the best ninja I’ve ever seen…”

You were only thirteen, didn’t have much experience in the ninja world, so the words you spoke were true. You didn’t know if telling him that, as a total stranger, would make him think you were weird.

Imagine your shock when Lee burst out in happy tears.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

You supported Lee in his recovery, and even when he couldn’t go on missions himself, he cheered you on from the sideline.

From the very beginning, it was evident to everyone in the village that you were head-over-heels for Lee. Your quiet bashfulness when Lee was around was a stark contrast to your usual loud and confident self. Everyone knew about your crush.

Everyone except for Lee.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Tenten asked you once. “You never know.”

But you’d only shaken your head. “He loves Sakura. Everyone knows that.” You told her. “Besides. We’re friends. I don’t want to ruin that friendship.”

So despite your friendliness, your flirtatious nature, and the fact that you could have just about any of the rookie nine wrapped around your finger if you so pleased, you weren’t interested in any of them.

Rock Lee was the only one that had your heart and he didn’t even know it. He never would.

Instead of focusing on that, or the cute way Lee’s cheeks went red after he took a shot, or how Lee spent a lot of time that night talking to Sakura, you took shots with Ino and Tenten and let Kiba buy you drinks and danced with Choji when he asked.

Overall, the night was going great. Everyone was having a good time and getting along and so far only Naruto had gotten just a little too drunk; everyone else was riding a nice buzz.

Shikamaru had just finished a less than enthusiastic rendition of “The Lazy Song” that had left everyone doubled over laughing at the irony. “Who should go next!?” Naruto yelled, looking around to see who still hadn’t sung a song.

And okay, maybe Naruto wasn’t the only one who had drank just a little too much. Watching Lee sit and laugh with Sakura the past hour had left you feeling just a tad bit jealous, leading you to drink more than you normally would. He’d barely said anything to you that, and the two of you were supposed to be friends.

“What’s so good about Sakura anyways? She’s really not that great.” You swished the liquid in your cup, mumbling the words you knew you would regret the next morning. Sakura had never been anything but nice to you; you knew she didn’t deserve to be the target of your jealousy. 

Ino snickered. “Geez you’ve got it bad.” She commented with a roll of her eyes before hearing Naruto’s question. Her eyes lit up, and, grinning, she hurried to the microphone, looking through the book of songs available to sing. She flipped through for a moment or two before turning to Naruto and whispering something to him.

All of this escaped your attention as you were drowning in the misery of your own thoughts before you realized: everyone was chanting your name. You blinked, looking around to see everyone staring at you, pounding on tables and counters as they encouraged you to get up and sing.

Laughing, you shook your head nervously, not wanting to go embarrass yourself before Lee caught your eye. Even he was encouraging you to go up and perform. Well, if he wanted you to, then you would sing your heart out!

You downed two more shots before pushing to your feet, which was an obvious mistake.

The alcohol always hit hardest after you stood up.

“Woah, there.” Tenten laughed, standing to help you. Somehow, you made it to the stage. Naruto snickered as he passed you the microphone. He couldn’t wait to see this.

You held the microphone tightly in your hands as your eyes scanned the room with all your friends staring expectantly at you and cheering you on. You felt good. Really good. Your vision was blurry, head dizzy, stomach warm, and everything about you was giddy. It was your turn, and you were ready to make a statement. 

Glancing at the screen, you saw the name of the song appear. Heart Attack by Demi Lovato.

“I’m gonna dedicate this song to someone very special to me,” You slurred into the microphone, giggling. Your friends in the crowd whooped and cheered as the music began. 

“This one’s for you Lee!”

With that, you closed your eyes to block out the reactions of everyone and everything, and you sang. You sang your little heart out, put on the drunken performance of a lifetime. Your years of pent up feelings and nerves and fears surrounding Lee all went into that song.

As you sang the last word, you opened your eyes again, taking in everyone’s reaction. Glee, surprise, happiness. You were grinning; you’d killed it.

That was when your eyes landed on Lee. It was hard for you to gage his reaction. More than anything he looked… confused. And that was when the weight of what you’d just done settled on you. Oh shit.

You’d all but confessed your feelings for Lee… Drunkenly… In front of everyone.

The realization was all it took for you to sober up. Quickly, you shoved the microphone back into Naruto’s hands and fled the karaoke bar.

You weren’t really sure how you’d even made it home. Everything was kind of blurry. You remember running from the karaoke bar, a girl’s voice, probably Tenten’s, calling after you. You remember vomiting. A lot. That’s actually what you were doing now. You’d woken up with your head basically in the toilet.

You could have gone for some blissful moments where you didn’t remember what had caused you to sprint home from the bar, but alas, you couldn’t forget.

You’d confessed your years long crush through song.

How were you ever going to face Lee again?

You wouldn’t, you decided. You would spend the rest of your life in that house. You could have your groceries delivered, you weren’t going to need new clothes if you never went outside. You would just lay in your bed until you withered away into nothingness.

~

“You can’t stay in here forever,” Tenten rolled her eyes, tugging the blanket that you were hiding under off the bed.

“Watch me,” you whined in reply, holding a pillow over your head. “I totally embarrassed myself! He probably thinks I’m so lame!”

Tenten could only snicker at that. “Lee? Thinking you’re lame? Right.”

It took a bit of convincing, and you were basically kicking and screaming, but Tenten was able to drag you out of your home back into the real world. “No one’s going to care,” She assured you as the two of you walked. “We were all plastered. I’m sure no one will even remember!”

If only that were true. 

“Hey!” Kiba called as he and Naruto approached you and Tenten. “Have you guys seen Lady Tsunade around here? I have this pain in my chest…”

Naruto grabbed Kiba’s arm in mock fear. “Oh no! Kiba, are you having a heart attack!?” 

The two of them doubled over in hysterics; tears were even streaming down their faces. You could feel your face burning red in embarrassment. You’d never wanted to disappear so badly. 

“Beat it you two!” Tenten snapped, grabbing your arm and pulling you away. “Ignore them! They’re idiots!”

Head buried in your hands, you shook your head. “God! How am I ever going to live this down! I’m going home!” You pulled out of Tenten’s grip. “I’m going to move villages, change my name, and make sure Lee never sees my face again!”

“Uh, well, if that’s the case you better run…” Tenten said awkwardly, nudging you. “Because Lee’s coming this way…”

And there he was. In his green jumpsuit, bowlcut and all, Lee was heading straight for you. God you were sure you were going to vomit again.

“Good morning Tenten,” Lee greeted, though nowhere near in his usual upbeat tone. “Would you mind giving us a moment alone?” He asked. Tenten glanced over at you nervously.

“Yeah… Sure Lee…”

~

“I do not understand it, Sakura.” Lee sighed, toying with the drink in his hands as his eyes were locked on you drinking and laughing with Tenten and Ino. “I have never had any issue telling you that I think you are beautiful. But with her… It is different.”

Sakura giggled, feeling the drink in her own veins. “Because, Lee. You like her like her. You should just tell her!” Even drunk, Sakura would never betray your trust by telling Lee the obvious; that you liked him as much as he liked you. But it was infuriating to sit on both sides listening to the two of you cry over your feelings day after day and not tell you!

Lee shook his head, taking a gulp from his drink. “I cannot. I am not like Guy Sensei, as much as I try to be. I am not cool or good looking. I do not think I am smooth. I do not know how to talk to a girl I like.”

It took everything in Sakura not to burst out laughing. Guy Sensei? Cool? Good looking? Smooth?

“This is ridiculous. How much longer do I have to hear about how great you think she is before you finally tell her?!”

Rock Lee could barely hear Sakura; he was zoned in on you. Everything about you entranced Lee from the very first time he saw you trying to sneak out of his hospital room. You were beautiful, of course. Your hair always seemed to fall just right. Your smile brightened up a room. The kindness in your heart radiated from you. He loved how confident and outgoing you were and that you had an energy that could match his.

It wasn’t like Lee hadn’t tried to tell you before. There were plenty of times when it was just the two of you that he was tempted, but he could never get it out. There just weren’t many people that he connected so easily with. Guy Sensei was his idol; he wanted to be just like his sensei! But that wasn’t the same as having a friend. Even with his teammates, there was a level of professionalism to it all--maybe thanks to Neji--that kept him from feeling like he could truly be understood. 

But with you, everything was so easy. Laughing came easily, talking and opening up about the things he struggled with… There was a naturalness to it he’d never experienced before. He was terrified to lose it. 

So that night at the karaoke bar, he sat with Sakura whining about the same thing he had been for months now instead of doing something about it. That wasn’t like Lee at all, but that was what you did to him. You made him so nervous he couldn’t even be him.

He was sure you knew his eyes were locked on you all night, ogling like a total weirdo. He’d barely even talked to you. He had hoped that the alcohol would loosen him up and spur him into action, but he’d just shut down even more, causing him to wallow in his own self pity.

Why couldn’t he be more like Kiba? He was over there, so smooth and cool, grinning and chatting you up and buying you drinks. Lee wanted to be that guy to you!

“Oh, look! She’s gonna sing next!” Sakura nudged Lee, nodding at the stage where you were grasping the microphone. You were clearly inebriated, and the redness in your cheeks just made you look all the cuter to him.

“I’m gonna dedicate this song to someone very special to me!” Lee’s heart dropped into his stomach. He couldn’t even hope that he would be the one that you would devote a song to. So when it was his name that had left your mouth, he sat in there in a state of shock. It wasn’t even dawning on him. Sakura shook his shoulder excitedly as you belt out the lyrics to Heart Attack. 

“Lee, she’s singing to you!” 

It just couldn’t process. Was it the alcohol? Was it the absolute surprise at what was happening? Whatever it was, by the time you had finished, Lee had continued to stare at you, open mouthed. It was only when you’d sprinted out of the bar that Lee had come to his senses.

He’d done his best to follow you, but he was drunker than he thought and had stumbled around just a little too long. By the time he’d gotten himself straightened out, you were long gone.

He’d stayed up all night long thinking about it, thinking about you. 

The whole night, he turned it over and over again in his mind; what else could that have meant other than you liked him back? It was too good to be true! But it was true? Lee drove himself mad.

The goal with his walk wasn’t necessarily to find you. Moreso, he had just wanted to clear his head, maybe get advice from Guy Sensei. But he’d ran into you and Tenten before he could do any of that.

As Tenten gave the two of you space, he stared at you bashfully. The longer the silence went on, the redder his cheeks became. Just as he was getting up the courage to say something, you broke the ice.

“Lee, look. About last night… I’m sorry. That was so embarrassing! I was just so drunk and… I wasn't thinking straight.” You were rambling on nervously, scratching the back of your head and avoiding his gaze, acting like you wanted to laugh the whole thing off. 

Lee nodded slowly, letting your words sink in. So… He had misread the whole thing, then? The thought hit him like a blow to the stomach, taking the breath straight out of him. That sucked. “Right, of course!” He said quickly. “It is okay, really. I had drunk a lot as well!”

How did he get out of here? Lee was tempted to drop the weights from his ankles and take off running as fast as he could.

The discomfort was plain on his face, though. You knew Lee well; you could tell something was wrong.

You had to drop your playful facade. You felt like you’d really screwed things up. “Are… Are you mad at me?” You finally asked him quietly.

The question startled Lee. He frowned, tilting his head. “Why would I be upset with you? You are my friend.” You could only shrug helplessly. You were sad and embarrassed and confused, and now Lee was upset. Of course you thought it was your fault. You didn’t know that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The silence was heavy, making you sigh and shake your head. “Well, uh, I should go meet up with Tenten again…” You mumbled, staring at the floor. After this, she definitely couldn’t drag you out of your bedroom again.

You lifted your hand, waving goodbye before turning away. You didn’t get more than a step away before Lee was grabbing your arm, his body reacting quicker than his mind. “Wait. Please.”

Of course you stopped, turning back to face him. You were too fearful to be hopeful, unwilling to get excited for something that wouldn’t happen, but you held your breath anyways as you stared up at him.

“I was not completely honest. I am upset, it is just not with you…” When you didn’t respond, only continued to stare at him with those earnest eyes, he had no choice but continue. He dropped your arm, his hand going to nervously rub at the back of his neck instead. He didn’t know how to do this, but he had the feeling it was now or never.

“The truth is, yesterday when you sang that song, and you said you were dedicating it to me, I believed it was because you had feelings for me. So just now, when you said you were not thinking straight, it made me upset because I have feelings for you. I was hoping that you would tell me that you felt the same…”

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Lee so red before. It was like a cartoon, the way it creeped up from his chin all the way to his forehead, shooting up like a thermometer. You could only imagine that you looked the same. Your face felt like it was on fire. 

It took a moment for it all to sink in. There was a pause before it dawned on you; Lee just confessed that he had feelings for you! He liked you! The giddiness sent trembles through you as you broke out into a huge grin that you couldn’t stop.

“Lee, you idiot!” You laughed, smacking his arm. “I do like you! That’s the whole reason I humiliated myself in front of everyone yesterday!”

You know that look that Lee gets when he’s happy? His pupils dilate, glistening like googly eyes. The blush dusts the tops of his cheeks, he even gets a bit teary eyed.

All classic Lee and exactly what you got after your confession.

“I cannot believe it!” He cried, pulling you into a hug and twirling you around without hesitation. Now that he had confirmation about how you felt, any inhibitions he had been harboring were gone just like that. He wasn’t going to waste another moment not showing you exactly how he felt. “I have wanted to tell you for so long! I just did not think you felt the same way! This is fantastic!”

Lee’s enthusiasm was as contagious as ever. It didn’t take long before you were hugging Lee back and laughing along with him. When he finally calmed down, Lee released you, taking your hands in his instead and grinning at you.

“So does this mean you will go on a date with me?”

“Is that you asking me?” You giggled. Lee nodded enthusiastically. “Then yes; of course I will.”

Lee pulled you into another hug. “Would you like to know something?” He questioned, giggling childishly, so of course you nodded. “I almost had a heart attack asking you that question!”

The groan was immediate as you pulled away, smacking your forehead. “Lee!” You whined, cringing in embarrassment. “I am also having a heart attack trying to work up the nerve to do this…” For a guy that was so fast, he moved agonizingly slow as he leaned down to press his lips to yours. A heart attack, huh? Yeah, you were never going to live that down. But if this was the price to pay, well then, you didn’t mind all that much.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 06 (first part)

(Masterpost)(Episode 05)

Warning: This contains spoilers for All 50 Episodes

Bad Boys Bad Boys What You Gonna Do

Nie Huasang’s brought his nuts, and someone’s brought wine, so the boys are drinking in Wei Wuxian’s guest house. Finally he gets to drink some of the Emperor’s Smile wine that he’s been doing all those product placements for.

Boys, get a bowl or something for your shells, were you raised in a barn?

Wei Wuxian hits on waxes poetic about the wine, and Jiang Cheng tells him to shut up. 

Wang Zhuocheng’s raw-fish-eating face may have failed him, but his drunk faces do not disappoint.

Wei Wuxian teases Jiang Cheng about his list of standards for a chick: She should have natural beauty, be virtuous and caring, from a good family, not too talkative, with a gentle voice, and not too capable. Also she should not spend too much money. Drunken running ensues.

Cue Maple Leaf Rag by Scott Joplin

(more behind the cut)

Much of the fandom has decided this list is a good fit for Nie Huaisang himself, and it sorta is. But he is both talkative and unvirtuous, what with all the current sneakiness, and all the eventual murders. 

This also definitely doesn't fit Wen Qing because she's capable as hell.  

This list is, however, a 100% a match for Jiang Yanli. Not in a weird, Jin Guangyao way--a lot of men want to marry a woman like their sister.  In a gender-divided and generation-divided society, a man’s sister might be the only woman he’s ever known well. Jiang Cheng adores Yanli and she’s his ideal model of a woman, as opposed to his mother, who...isnt.  

All these robes and talismans over the door do nothing to stop Lan Wangji from strolling in.  

Okay so - Lan Wangji is the senior disciple of the Lan Clan, yea? There is no way that patrolling the guest area is in any way his job. He is just walking around here at night specifically to see what Wei Wuxian is doing.

I already did a gifpost of the boys and their totally nonsexual horseplay, over here. I’ll just add, for sad factor, that Jiang Cheng is play-choking Wei Wuxian when they’re all on the bed, and later in the running-and-crying episode he is gonna for-real choke him. Foreshadowing! or maybe just coincidence!

One fun thread running through the young-cultivators episodes is that Nie Huaisang is legit terrified of Lan Wangji while also having a major aesthetic crush on him. Look at how flustered he is here, trying to act sober while also checking him out. 

Lan Wangji is shocked and visibly upset - what are you guys doing? This is not his busting face, this is, for a moment, his vulnerable and disillusioned face. He is super not used to what normal people are like. 

Wei Wuxian doesn't lie or otherwise try to get off the hook, which has got to have Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang grinding their teeth in frustration. He invites Lan Wangji to join them for a drink. LWJ cites a the “no drinking on campus” rule and WWX tries to convince him to chill. 

Then we have this lovely coordinated faint by the boys, to get out of going to get punished. Nie Huaisang has been practicing fainting in front of a mirror just in case he ever needs a skill like that in the future. 

Wei Wuxian keeps trying to turn this into a date. Eventually Lan Wangji is so upset he admits he can’t take all three of them by himself. 

Then the boys run away fake-barfing and Wei Wuxian hits Lan Wangji with a talisman. 

Steal His Agency That’s What You’re Gonna Do

What Wei Wuxian does to Lan Wanji here is definitely wrong. But it's not entirely a disaster.  It allows some crucial information to be shared between them, and it results in Wei Wuxian getting the utter shit beat out of him and never doing this again. I mean, he continues to mind-control his enemies and their eventual corpses, but he doesn't intentionally violate a friend or ally's autonomy in the future. Uhh not counting that whole golden core surgery-without-consent situation. And probably some other situations I’ve forgotten. He improves slightly, okay? 

It’s important to note, incidentally, that the Lan rules about drinking and other “vices” should not be viewed through a Christian lens. The Lans are neither puritans nor ascetics (look at their clothes, furniture, and jewelry, for starters). Being drunk is forbidden probably because it’s a loss of self-control. 

Speaking of self-control, mad props to Wang Yibo for being able to have zero physical reaction to fingers snapping in his face.

Drunk Lan Wangji

Under duress, Lan Wangji knocks back a cup of wine and promptly passes most of the way out. 

Wei Wuxian puts Lan Wangji into bed not unkindly, but pretty much like a sack of potatoes. Compare this to how tenderly he handles Lan Wangji the next time he’s drunk. 

WWX tells LWJ to call him Wei Gege, and giggles. Is this a term of endearment in this context? So far the various boys are calling each other -xiong, not -ge or gege.  In Western media, men calling each other “bro” is basically saying “no homo,” but brotherhood and sisterhood in C-Drama is often a way of indicating stronger love than friendship, without saying whether it's sexual or not. 

They finally start to have a conversation, and when Lan Wangji explains that no-one can touch his headband except, etc etc, Wei Wuxian stops trying to touch it. So at least he's not a handsy bastard in addition to all his other faults. 

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji that his clan is boring and women won't want to marry him. Lan Wangji says that's fine. On one level this is the show acknowledging that he's gay, but I think he's responding in a gender-neutral way; he doesn't want to marry anyone. Marriage, from his perspective, is the literal worst. 

We don't know how he felt about his father, but he definitely loved his mother deeply, and she had a profoundly unhappy marriage, in which her husband did not provide companionship and her children were taken from her.

A note about all that: The dynamics of heterosexual marriages in The Untamed are not based on contemporary companionate marriage. Sex and reproduction is a wife's job in this world, and giving a gentry woman the option to choose her husband is radical. Wei Wuxian is the only one who dares say that Jiang Yanli should have a choice when Jin Guangshan casually tries to give her to his son in front of everyone.  

OP made this today but will totally reuse it when episode 23 rolls around

So Lan Wangji’s parents' marriage was extremely problematic but not necessarily for the reasons it would be in contemporary terms. Having signed on to marry Lan Dad, Mom would have expected to live together and get laid regularly (important for health, in some traditional views, regardless of love/no love) and to have the company of her children. Instead, she was isolated. Lan Dad wanted to have it both ways and so even though he loved her and apparently hooked up with her sometimes, he didn't do his duty by her. She didn't love him but she did her duty. 

Wei Wuxian continues to not get it, calling Lan Wangji dull and babbling about Lan Wangji’s parents until he realizes that LWJ is an orphan like him. 

A nice shift happens here. Once the penny drops, Wei Wuxian doesn't ask a single additional question - he just sees - by reading Lan Wangji’s face - what the deal is, and shares his own story to show he understands. 

This is the first time Wei Wuxian mentions being chased by dogs, which is kind of a big deal, because why was he left all alone when his parents died? 

Why didn't anyone take him in before Jiang Fengmian found him? How isolated are independent cultivators in this world? 

Tea Time

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen are having tea, and the Lan Clan is so uptight they don't touch each other's teacups. I don't know what this thing is called so I'm going to call it a tea speculum. 

Lan Qiren is back from the cultivation conference and says the red crack plague is happening over in Qinghe where the Nie clan lives.  Lan Xichen fills him in on the water demon, specifically saying Wei Wuxian figured out the connection to the red crack dudes, and explaining who WWX is, as if Lan QIren hadn't already thrown stuff at him and threatened to eventually kill him. 

Fun fact that I just noticed this week so didn't make it into earlier posts: In Episode 46, when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are in the Jiang ancestral hall, WWX says he was often punished to kneel there, and LWJ said that they heard about this in Gusu.  

So when WWX came to Gusu he already had a reputation as a troublemaker, and the Lan brothers were aware of it.   

Busted and Beaten

A Lan snitch comes in to say that Wei Wuxian has successfully corrupted Lan Wangji, which really shouldn’t cause as much surprise as it does.

“Wei Wuxian got drunk”

“Lan Wangji got drunk”

Lan Xichen takes a moment to consider carefully whether Wei Wuxian is a good friend for his little brother and whether perhaps he was too hasty in throwing them together. Ha ha ha no he doesn’t. 

On the punishment porch, Lan Xichen tries to lecture Lan Wangji in a calm way, but Lan Qiren wants to beat him and Lan Wangji wants to get beat. Wei Wuxian can’t understand why Lan Wangji doesn’t let him take the blame for the drinking. 

Lan Qiren goes way the fuck overboard with this punishment because he's angry--losing control and losing his sense of proportion--and Lan Xichen is shocked. The drone camera watching from above is also shocked.  

Lan Qiren has a few (very few) redeeming qualities, but his extreme rigidity and chronic resentment of anyone he perceives as bad are serious problems. His nephews are both struggling with complex moral quandaries as they get older, and he is absolutely no help to them in resolving their conflicts.

This is definitely...a style of parenting & teaching, but you can see how poorly it works, with Lan Wangji straight up saying “fuck it” after many years of conformity.  Lan Xichen is devoted to the middle path and tries to be obedient. But he is actually not walking anywhere near the middle path, as he gets pulled into colluding with a murderer at the same time as getting dragged onto his brother’s carnival ride. These men need parenting that isn’t so, uh, fucking stupid. (Yes, grown adults still need good parenting; watch Go Ahead if you doubt me) 

Wei Wuxian initially yells and falls down when he gets hit, but then he sees Lan Wangji is taking the beating without any reaction and he tries to do the same. 

Aftermath

Jiang Yanli gently lectures the boys, blaming Jiang Cheng for Wei Wuxian's drinking.  Jesus Christ, he's the younger sibling, could you just NOT, Yanli?  

Both boys ask Yanli not to tell their parents. The boys bicker about who's at fault and then Wei Wuxian shifts to baby voice and starts whining to Yanli about the pain. 

Yanli tells him to suck it up, and says after school she'll -- ok and I know this will be a surprise for everyone -- make soup for them. The boys immediately get back on the same team, which is team Please Put Meat In the Soup.

There's a nice character building moment for Wei Wuxian here. When he sees Lan Xichen he initially turns away to avoid running into him, but then he adults-up and goes to face him and greet him, giving him a half of a bow because of the pain, the pain. Rather than complaining about his punishment he meekly asks if he's broken another rule. 

Lan Xichen tells him that he did wrong but that Lan Qiren’s punishment was too harsh, and then in what is one of my favorite Lan Xichen moments, invites Wei Wuxian to use the cold spring to heal, but doesn't invite Jiang Cheng to go with him even though Jiang Cheng also was beaten. Lan Xichen, Matchmaker Auntie Extraordinaire. 

Then he answers Wei Wuxian’s question about his mom by saying she was just like Wei Wuxian and drove Lan Qiran up the wall. Jiang Cheng's reaction to that is really sweet. He does enjoy Wei Wuxian at the same time as being constantly irritated by him. 

Lan Xichen does his patented “breaking off in the middle of saying something and leaving out a chunk of the story” maneuver, although this time he doesn't include a flute solo. 

OP is mildly obsessed with Xuan Lu’s shoulders in this outfit. Also Yanli has an interesting sword, that's got some wood carving similar to Subian, but without the organic look, which OP only noticed because of screen capping Xuan Lu’s shoulders.  

Club Ruohan

Wen Qing continues to be pretty and slightly evil at this stage, sending magic fire notes to her boss using this talisman that is definitely floating in the air and not just hanging from a string. 

Wen Ruohan is in the mosh pit with his zombie groupies while he reads Wen Qing’s extremely vague status update and says "it all makes sense." 

Reach out and touch faith

Soundtrack

Maple Leaf Rag by Scott Joplin Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode

Writing Prompt

How did Wei Wuxian’s parents die?

Admin Notes

I’m going to start spacing out my “first part” and “second part” posts by a few days.  I’ll update this post to link up the second part once I post it, and my masterpost is always up to date. 

Also: if you want more of my original content but don’t want to follow my whole blog (not following is fine!), I keep a pinboard of fun stuff at the top of my blog. I try to post original content at least once a week.

Continued in the second part later this week!

[postmodernbeing]

Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: Paradis Soldiers, drunk edition

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. So, I have been re-reading SnK manga due its 4th and final season. And chapter 123 really inspired me into writing this headcanons. I wrote them thinking in some Morden AU, but I believe that they could easily work for the canon universe. I hope you like this as much as I did. 

IMPORTANT: I kept some canon elements that I read in a few posts from interviews to Isayama. //  For obvious reasons, all the characters are 18+. // I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin. // This post does not exhorts the abuse of harmful substances such as alcohol. // English is not my first language, so I appreciate your patience.

Eren Jaeger

Isayama himself has mentioned that Eren has a high tolerance to alcohol. I'd like to respect that fact (although I'm not 100% sure about that since I read it somewhere around internet). I do imagine that Eren is the friend that ends up taking care of everyone when they're totally wasted, but he also finds the time to have fun and drink because he doesn’t really like watching over every single one of his friends or counting all the shots that they take.

His behavior doesn’t really change a lot when wasted. I picture that he might speak a bit higher than usual due the deafening effect of music and alcohol. Also, he takes a bit of time before replying a question, etc.

Apart from that, do not expect him to dance like crazy over some table. He would agree to some karaoke, though. Or even to compete in a videogame/party game if Jean challenges him enough. Usually, Eren likes to keep his cool and watch everyone have a good time. Eren’s a simple man.

In some AU, he would be the designated driver if no one else offers (cough Armin cough), or in case that all his friends are totally wasted. Eren also makes sure that his pals arrive home safely before turning the engine again (so thoughtful, aw). In case that everyone takes a taxi or some uber, Eren would ask them to send a message to their group chat before going to bed just so he’s sure everyone is safe. Even if he knows some of them will forget or fall asleep immediately after arriving home.

Mikasa Ackerman

This girl rarely gets drunk, let me tell you. And not because she doesn’t drink, she drinks a lot. Mostly because she follows Sasha into all she dares her: beerpong, shots, you name it. Even though, Mikasa prefers traditional beer, she’s into trying new things such as different tastes and alcohol levels (she’s fearless). I do imagine that Mikasa realizes she’s drunk when tries to stand from anywhere she was sitting, rather for going to the kitchen for a glass of water or to the toilet (she knows  drinking water is important in order to keep her body hydrated and avoid hangover).

First thing she notices, besides the dizziness, is her face utterly blushed. She smiles almost immediately, Mikasa is more open with her body language albeit her use of words remains limited. She knows how to stay rational.

She’ll never admit how much she enjoys being invited by Sasha to have some drinks. Mikasa’s happy that she’s able to be her partner in beerpong, even if Sasha makes her lose from time to time. Her favorite game secretly is “Never have I ever…” because all her friends end up sharing too much, or some truly funny anecdotes that feed her little laugh (please, protect smiley Mikasa).

Mikasa has been designated driver only a couple of times since she keeps falling asleep after getting wasted. Nevertheless, she never fails into leaving a good night message to her friends when arriving home. Mikasa thinks that’s the perfect way to thank the squad for the great moments they shared.

Like Eren, she prefers casual reunions or stay-in-home parties. But if she’s noticed that the rest will attend to some bar/club she’d rather be there, protecting them (just a little before passing out too).

Armin Arlert

How do I say this politely? Please, keep him away from alcohol. He gets so drunk, so fast it’s almost funny. Definitely, he starts feeling a bit sleepy because he feels so relaxed. But if Armin keeps drinking sure thing, he’ll start feeling more energetic and perky. He’s the first one that gets into the karaoke thing, although he likes to share stories from the books he reads too, Eren is the one that listens to him with the most attention (and soberness).

Armin also laughs a lot being drunk, you could tell him any nonsense and he’ll burst out laughing. Sometimes he also tries to make jokes but fails funnily enough, he can’t make one coherent sentence. That’s a good sign most of the times, for he’s reaching his limits and his friends cut his consumption (which it’s really not that much).

That’s why it’s common that Armin offers himself as designated driver those nights that he might had a beer or two. He’s very responsible when he acknowledges there won’t be a chance to stay the night (for they are partying at a club or a stranger’s house). Armin is used to take his friends till their front door, he might be small, but he wants to be sure everyone will be alright and safe.

Against all odds, he enjoys a bit more of pubs since he became with time, less aloof than his childhood friends. Although, he’s not that meticulous with the remedies against hangover. Giving him the result of headaches for the next 24 hours at least.

Jean Kirstein

Jean has a higher alcohol tolerance, and he even tries to avoid excess of said substances. However, he always fails colossally 80% of occasions. He’s not precisely awkward or a bad drinker, but it’s definitely hard to keep up with his energy and enthusiasm when he’s drunk. Jean’s not the most responsible drinker neither but he manages to stay rational enough. One could say that he becomes more reckless with what he does and says.

…Such as climbing up a table and dancing like crazy. He would absolutely spend most of the night dancing and he’s not bad actually. The thing is, that his ability comes from the drunk effect rather than actual skill. When there’s no music to be heard, he likes to organize the games with Sasha and Connie. Jean also yells a lot more, and he doesn’t admit it but he runs out of patience faster if his friends aren’t excited to follow the flow of the games (we know he refers to Eren most of the times).

Therewith, he keeps his cool and sincere attitude. His friends know that Jean doesn’t need to be drunk to be open and honest, so they trust in his drunken words too. Which leads us to the next point, Jean loves bigger and more elaborated parties. But only because he knows all his friends could engage in activities that they actually enjoy. From screaming and running to keeping it quiet in a sofa.

He doesn’t worry easily, but if someone asks him to take care of them, he will offer his help without trouble (those are the 20% remaining of occasions in which he doesn’t get that drunk). Jean got the designated driver role only one time, for his friends decided that he sucked at following the GPS and spend too much time taking ‘shortcuts’ every three blocks. It would take the rest of the night trying to get to their homes.

Sasha Braus

Like Jean, Sasha has a medium tolerance to alcoholic beverages, but she tends to mess that up when stuffing her mouth with snacks and junk food. She insists in eating before drinking (and after too), so it’s not unusual to watch her running into the bathroom at the middle of the night because of nausea. To everyone's surprise, she has a wide knowledge of different drinks. From the best wines and its respective cuts of meats, to the strangest (and cheapest) mixtures for the sole purpose of getting wasted.

Even in sober state Sasha isn’t shy at all. So, beware for she’s the mastermind behind the party games. Sasha always promises tranquil reunions but deep down everyone knows shit’s getting down every-single-time. She knows the basic games such as beerpong, “never have I ever”, “truth or dare”, and she has a talent at asking the most awkward questions. But her real potential reveals when she dares her friends into weird and dangerous challenges.

Sasha definitely becomes more direct and energetic. She has let her real accent show a few times before and even if she gets a bit embarrassed she’s too drunk to care (Mikasa is the first one that shuts their mouths if they try to make fun of her, canon of they being the best friends ever, yay).

She loves to dance and sing, making a disaster of the house/club they’re partying at. Connie tries to calm her down before anyone else, but fails because just like her, he’s delighted with the jokes and pranks they pull together. Sasha knows that Connie stays close to her in case she’s feeling more dizzy than usual and she’s forever thankful for that. Lastly, she has never offered herself into that designated driver role, and that’s what her friends are thankful for. So, everything’s reciprocal, one could say.

Connie Springer

Connie has just a bit more of tolerance to alcohol. It’s common that Sasha, Jean, and Connie end up drunk at the same time. They laugh when they realize this. The first signal into Connie’s drunk state is him talking about everything that passes through his mind, from conspiracy theories to the most absurd yet profound questions. And finishes his quasi rational speech with bad jokes, although he doesn’t really need alcohol to tell them.

He promises himself every single time that he’ll take care of Sasha but ends up following her into all her dares and extreme games (some of them almost illegal). Connie is the first person than anyone runs to if they want to throw a bigger party. He feels flattered to this, he’s truly popular and a great company to anyone. Seems obvious at this point, but I'll say it anyway: Connie really enjoys club parties.

I already mentioned that Connie gets along with anything that Sasha comes up with. But Connie himself has a repertoire of anecdotes and pranks. He can recommend you the best pubs and the cheapest (and interesting) clubs. He doesn’t admit it, but this also strokes his ego. Maybe he does have some genius in him, at least for these topics.

Connie is also the most chaotic drunk, all he does (or tries to) is funny. He has the craziest anecdotes. Like that time when his friends found him asking for directions to a public trash can, or that one night when he had a fight with Jean because he didn’t accede to shave his head to match with Connie’s. Or Sasha’s favorite, she’d dared him into smelling Eren’s arse for some bet they had about his smell. Mikasa was not happy.

Sincerely, this boy brings life into the parties if he desires so. Howbeit, he got his friends’ backs if they have a problem with aggressive drunken guys. Connie has jumped into fights just so he protects his friends (Armin, more than anyone else due his big-smart mouth). Truth to be told, Connie fights quite good when drunk. His protective side is a wonder, y’all give him lots of love.

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

[lovelinehotline]

                           𝔹𝕝𝕦𝕖

                          𝑆𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

                                  description:

   Unforgivable heartbreaker. Undeniable player. Absolute ass. Sirius Black was anything but an angel, and, with the help of his friends, his reputation emphasized that. His heart has been set on staying locked in the deep depths of his chest, choosing to lay with any and all girls to keep his fear of being abandoned and heartbroken by that of who he loves, a fear developed after he was left discarded on the side by his parent when  they decided he wasn't good enough to bare their last name anymore. The thrill of one night stands and moments of pleasure with strangers, which helped ease his mind for hours at a time was the only thing keeping him sane through all his endeavors. With one final drunken affair, he unintentionally opened his heart up to one girl bearing the blue and bronze colors of her house.

                                    -

 It was 9:45am when Sirius awoke from from his drunk based slumber, head ponding softly. His face kept a completely neutral expression but he was in absolute pain on the inside. 

  His gaze fell on the empty space beside him, slightly smirking to himself as he watched the  imprint of a feminine body slowly disintegrate. He wondered which house he got lucky with the night before. Maybe a Slytherin? They were always feisty to have in bed. Or a Hufflepuff? It’s true when they say the quiet ones were the nastiest when it came to their sexual endeavors, he would know. A Gryffindor? Always a pleasure to sleep with someone in the same house. Maybe a Ravenclaw? They were way more experienced in bed than they led on. Whichever it may be, he was sure he had one hell of a night.

  He sat up from his sunken place on the bed, his eyes doing a once over to the other boys, who were already shifting around their beds trying to get a couple of extra minutes of sleep. He wondered what the night had lead to after he downed one two many shots of whatever substance the other boys had brought in. Last memory he could recall was a pretty [hair color] Ravenclaw  chatting him up as they both waited their turn to grab another round of drinks. He remembers how she stuck to him most of the night, dancing around him, laughing at his obscene jokes, and just overall keeping him company as they drank down cup after cup of any alcoholic drink they could get their hands on. He remembers her soft [skin color] skin glistening in the candle lit room and her gentle laugh as they bantered with each other. He wondered if she was the one who's imprint was fading away, leaving nothing but a sweet memory he was trying to recollect.

 He gave a small stretch before getting out of bed, giving his stomach a little rub.

 “Good morning boys, I assume everyone had a good night.” Sirius spoke into the quiet room, the smirk that graced his lips never once leaving its place.

 The others sat up from their places, glancing at each other briefly before looking over at Sirius.

 “Sirius, are you,” Remus paused before slowly exhaling,”okay?”

 “Yeah, why wouldn't I be? I scored with another lady didn't I?” He let out a little laugh.  The rest of the boys stayed quiet as they gave each other another glance.

 “Are you guys okay? You’re acting strange this morning.” The black haired boy gave a little frown.

 Remus had a pleading look on his face as he stared into James’ eyes. James, on the other hand, had a stern look on his face. Both their expressions told a story that made Sirius think that maybe he didn't want to know what they were saying in their silent exchange.

 “Pads.” James started his voice barely above a whisper.

 “What?” Sirius was starting to grow impatient. Why were they suddenly acting in such a manor? As if they didn't just throw the party of the century last night.

 “When we came into the room,” James averted his gaze towards his hands for a second before maintaining eye contact with his best friend.”You were curled up against that one Ravenclaw girl, what’s her name?” 

“[Name.]” Remus quickly spoke.

 “Yeah, her, um I mean you were more in a fetal position if I’m being honest.”

 Sirius narrowed his eyes in confusion, his gaze never leaving James.

 “And you were,” Remus gave another pause before cautiously continuing his sentence,” sobbing and she was cradling you as you were clinging onto her sweater.”

 There was a moment of silence, one that was deafening for everyone in the dorm.

 “This is a joke right? None of you can be serious right now. Prongs, please tell me you guys are pranking me.”

 James’ eyes became somber as he ran his hands through his hair.

 “You, uh. You wouldn't let her leave. When she thought you were asleep, she got up, or more like she tried to at least,” James gave a low breathless laugh,”you would grip her harder and you would start to sob again until she laid back down.’

 “And you wouldn’t stop sobbing until she ran her finger through your hair. She was barley able to leave thirty-two minutes ago. She wanted to make sure you were calm before she headed out.” Remus continued.

 Sirius sat there, barley able to register the inform that was placed in front of him.

 “Do any of you know why I was crying?” 

 “No, we were trying to figure it out but [name] kept dodging the question. She just said that it was on a personal level and left it at that.” James spoke once more.  “Great, just what I needed, getting all close and personal with a girl I barely know.” Sirius had a deep look on his face trying to distinguish his memories from the past 12 hours. How did he get so emotional with someone in just a matter of hours of knowing them.

 “Maybe,”Remus spoke up breaking Sirius from his thought process,” this is a sign that you should stop sleeping around and start confronting what’s bothering you head on. Face your fears head on.”

 Sirius shook his head, letting out a little snort.”I have no idea what you’re taking about, moony.”

 “Yes you do,” Remus shook his head,” If you want, I can ask [name] to meet up with you so you can find out what you talked about. I have her in potions, I’m sure she’ll agree to it.”

 Sirius felt his face pale.

 He couldn’t be serious. Meet up with the girl who he was so clingy with and let himself show all signs of weakness  near? Remus was crazy to think he would agree to such a thing.

 “No.”Sirius said in a firm voice.

 “Come on it can't be that ba-”

 “I said no. I’ll figure it out myself.” Sirius stated, cutting off James.

 “Fine.” Huffed the boy with glasses

 During the course of his day, Sirius couldn't help but wonder about the female who would occupy his mind in the notion of small flashes. It annoyed him that he didn't remember much. 

 What could he have told her?

It was eating him up alive.

 At some point he wondered if he should take Remus up on his offer, but then decided against it when he realized he wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes, especially if he had shared too much into his past.

 He was sitting in the common room with James and Remus when he saw her, their eyes meeting across the room. In that moment he remembered all the emotions he felt the night before. He didn't understand the new wave of feelings that had overcome him, but it scared him beyond belief.

 She let out a small smile in his direction, making her way towards him.

 “shit.” Sirius quickly pushed passed everyone in his way and rushed out the room, speeding down the hall to his dorm, leaving [name] standing in the middle of the common room, confused over his reaction.

 “What just happened.” Her gaze moved over to James, who was bitting back his laughter, and Remus, who gave her a gentle smile with a gaze to match.

 “Don’t worry about him, he's been out of it all day.”

 “It’s not because of last night, is it? I promise I didn't say a word,” She frowned,”or was it something I did? Is he upset I left this morning?” She bit her lip as she continued.

 “[name], I can promise you that whatever is going on in that head of his, it’s not your fault.” Remus assured her.

 “At least not until he woke up this morning and realized that instead of being inside you,  you were inside his head.” James smirked.

Remus slammed his hand against the back of James head, a loud sound echoing through the common room.

 “ Ow! What the hell was that for?!”James raised his voice, rubbing the numbing pain that was stinging the back of his head.

 “It’s for not being of any help.” Remus glared before turning back around to face [name] who adorned a guilt ridden face.

 “I-I didn’t mean to, we were kissing and then he stopped, I thought he was going to puke so I tried grabbing for something, anything, that he could use to throw up in but he ended up wrapping his arms around my waist and crying into my back. I didn't know what to do so I just laid there trying to comfort him as best as I could and that’s when he started taking about his life. I didn't mean any harm.”

 “I think he's just embarrassed.” Remus said.

 “Embarrassed? Embarrassed about what?” She frowned once more.

 “Letting himself become vulnerable with a girl he barely knows.” James said back.

 She stayed quiet, slowly nodding her head. She wasn't sure what she should do next. Should she Just walk back to her dorm and pretend none of this happened? Should she try to talk to him and ease his worries? Should she give him some space and then try to talk to him when she was sure he was less then embarrassed to be around her? All she knew is that she didn't like her first option. She liked the Sirius Black who confided in her, the Sirius Black who clung to her and wouldn't let her out of his grip. She knew his reputation and as a friend she would happily settle because he was just a boy who needed someone to confide in. Yeah he had his other friends but being so opposed to letting himself become romantically loved was what was keeping him in that bubble of his, and it was slowly tearing him apart without him ever realizing it.

 She saw him in a different light after that night and there was no way she was going to let him go back to hiding in that bad boy with no emotions shell of his.

 She wrapped her arms around her waist and gave a silent sigh.

 “Do you,” she stayed silent for a second before continuing,”do you guys think I should go after him and see how he’s doing?”

 “Not really,” James replied, shrugging his shoulders.

 “Um, give him some space, and maybe sometime to get his head on straight.” Remus replied, leaning into the couch under him.

 [name] leaned her body into the soles of her feet as her features turned into a tiny frown.

 “Okay, would you let me know how he's doing later? I’m concerned about him.”

 “Yeah, we got you.”James gave a small smile,”We’ll let you know as soon as we figure something out.”

 “Alright, thank you,”The [hair color] female nodded her head slightly,”Thank you.”

 She turned herself around and walked towards her friends, who were all waiting for her on the other side of the room.

 “What was his problem?” One friend whispered.

“We told you he was only going to be in it for the night.” Another one stated.

She only nodded her head and changed the subject to something she recollected her friend bragging about earlier that day.

 The rest of the day was spent with Sirius trying to avoid the girl. His thought process was something not even his best of friends could understand. He was on edge with every turn of a corner and every drop of a pin.

 “Sirius, you look like a lunatic,” Remus said as he placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder,”You need to calm down a bit.”

  Sirius pressed his lips together, unsure on how to reply to his dear friend.

 “She isn't going to hurt you, you should try talking to her. I mean at least then you can figure out what the hell was said to her.” James piped in.

 Sirius shook his head, still as hard headed as ever.”No.”

 His friends only nodded and continued on, talking about something he couldn't quit recall.

 Later the next day, Sirius sat with his friends at the lunch table, deciding on the next big bash they were going to throw. Tho his head wasn't a hundred precent locked into the conversation.

 No, it was locked on the girl way ahead of him, laughing with her friend. All that went through his head as he stared at her were three questions; 

‘How much does she know?’

‘What goes through her mind when she looks at him?’

‘Does she see him differently? 

But no matter how much the questions were nagging at the back of his head, he wasn't going to allow himself the chance to figure it out, no, he was just going to pretend that it never happened and hope that it eventually simmers away at some point. Hell, he’ll avoid the problem even if it meant ignoring that pretty little Ravenclaw who probably did some magic spell to cause him to become as vulnerable as he had.

Though [name] was a little more adamant about talking to him about what happened, but she decide to give him some space to get his emotions in order.

For now, at least.

She’ll try again in a couple of weeks, though even then she would assume that everything he had told her two nights prier would take more than a couple of weeks to heal from, but she had hope she could help in that healing process.

 And as per usual another party happened, [name] was in the corner talking to her friends with a drink in her hand when she saw the one boy she had been waiting to arrive. Well she hopes at least. She had more drinks than she had hoped to drink, so when she saw a figure that looked like said boy, she had marched over to him, head high and chess puffed out to show that she meant business.

 Sirius, on the other hand, watched as the [hair color] stumbled around trying to get to some guy he's seen around school.

 An amused smirk was imprinted on his lips as he saw her eyes widen and face pale out, rushing back to her friends as they all laughed at her.

 “You want another drink?” A voice shouted next to him.

 Sirius simply nodded and leaned further into the couch hidden in the opposite side of the room from the girl.

 He found it entertaining to watch her as she searched for him. It made him feel like he was wanted by more than just his friends, and that for some reason made him feel warm inside.

 He grabbed the drink that was shoved in front of him, bringing the cup to his lips as his eyes peered over the rim, eyes still locked on the girl.

 As the night progressed, some of the students had decided it was time to head back, holding onto their friends who lazily hanged off of them, stumbling every once in a while trying to maintain their balance. The music had lowered to a barely audible volume allowing the mixed mumbling of conversations amongst the groups of students to fill the air.

 [name] was sat, spaced out, on the floor with her back against a wall, her eighth drink in hand and hardly any liquid left in it. Her friends were off to the side speaking a mumbled conversation that was barely reaching her ears. Her mind was swirling with thoughts of the dark hard boy she so desperately tried confronting in her drunken state. She wasn’t sure if she was upset or just hurt that he was avoiding her like the plague. Either way, she just wanted to talk to him, to sort it all out, to find out why he wouldn't even look at her direction.

 All she wanted to do was prove to her friends that he wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be. That he was a sweet, kind hearted person, like the boy she had talk to while he was in a drunken state of mind. But now she feels like maybe there was some truth to what was being thrown around about said boy. With tear glazed eye, she abruptly stood up, no long wanting to be around anyone that wasn't herself. She stumbled her way towards her friends with the plaidtic cup clutched to her hand.

 “Hey, [name] are you okay?” One friend asked.

 The others stared at her, waiting for an answer. The [hair color] girl looked to the floor before her eyes met with her friend’s once more. She wasn't fully sure if that was a question she wanted to answer at that moment. She sucked in her lower lip, chewing on it slightly as she carefully considered every sentence possible that would keep them from suspecting what they already knew.

 “Yeah I have a massive migraine, I think it might have been the drink.” She swayed a little while giving out her response.

 “Oh, did you want me to come with you? You don't look well enough to leave by yourself.” Another friend asked.

 [name] shook her head,”It’s fine,” She gave a small smile,”I think I just need some time to myself.” 

 Sirius watched as the Ravenclaw disappeared behind the door, eyes glued to the slowly closing door 

 He mentally debated wether to follow her, but he kept himself back, worry and anxiety bubbling up in his mind about where the conversation might lead to. Confrontation? Arguments? He couldn't handle that right now. Especially at the risk that he most likely would have to fight his inner demons. He couldn’t do that to himself. Not right now.

 He looked at the empty cup in her hand, watching the few drops of liquid  collect at the angle he was hold it in. 

 “Man you look like you need another drink!” James bellowed, slapping Sirius on the shoulder.

 Sirius gave a small smirk, shaking his head,”I’m good, think I should head back.”

 “Oh come on, we’re just getting started. Let’s have one more round.”

 “Okay, fine. Just one more round then I'm heading back.” Sirius grabbed the drink in James’ hand, throwing his head back and downing most of its contents.

 [name] wondered the halls of the school, her drunken mind racing with thoughts that she shouldn't be thinking with such a fragile state of mind.

 She raised her hand and let it grace against the walls of the school as she continued forward. She had decided on heading outdoors and enjoying the cool air of the night, that should be able to clear her mind a bit, or at least she had hoped so.

 She gently pushed open the doors that led to the back of the school. She tugged her sweater to her frame as the chill of the night caressed her soft skin.

 Never once did she ever think that she would be the one to end up in such a complicated situation, at least not herself out of her group of friends. Her main problem was always trying to see the good in people no matter what reputation life brought them. There’s always a tragic story behind every face no matter how small or how big the situation is to others around them. You truly never realized what someone is going through until it's too late.

 She ran her hands through the back fabric of her skirt as she came to a stop in front of an inviting pond, choosing to sit and contemplate her life in peaceful silence, by herself.

 Or so she hoped.

 As she sat there spaced out in her own world, a body came crashing down beside her, slightly knocking into her side as they adjusted themselves.

 Her slight scare turned into bewilderment and then soon replaced with irritation and sadness. The one person she was hoping to get away from after searching all night for was sitting right next to her in silence, eyes fixated on the body of water before them. She had scooted herself slightly away from the person and hugged her arms around her legs and brought her chin to lay onto her knees. The sound of the wind blowing gently was the only thing that filled her ears during the silence that surrounded the both of them.

 Sirius had no idea how to proceed, if anything his ears were red and his heart was pounding too fast for him to comprehend.He was scared to look her in the eyes, afraid of what she might think of him after everything, afraid that he would say more than he should.

 He cleared his throat while rubbing his hands together, hoping the friction would create warmth.

 “I’m sorry.” He stated, his voice amplified but the wind.

 [name] simply nodded her head, eyes staring ahead. She was afraid that all she had been building up inside of her would come pouring out of her like an erupting volcano.

 A single moment filled with silence passed as they both observed each others energy. It was like they both had so much to say but nothing to speak of at the same time.

 “I-, um. I’m sorry for treating you the way that I did. Those things I told you about are things that I don't like others to know about. I don't want to feel judged by those who don't know me based on my situation, because no one truly knows the little details, or how it affects me, just the things that lay at the surface. I was scared you would judge me, or worse, use it against me in some way.”

 [name] shook her head slightly and moved to meet his teary eyed gaze. Her heart was thumping just as hard as his was.She gave her lip a small nibble before proceeding to chose her next words carefully.

 “I’m not angry, I'm just upset that you would do anything but talk to me. I promise I’m not a scary person to talk to. I just wanted to get to know you.”

 “Why?”

 “I don't really don't know, I guess I wanted to see what everyone as so interested in. People would whisper about you when you walked down the hall, some absurd things, but I didn't think you could be so bad, so I approached you to see if I can get a feel about who you could be. You were really drunk and so I took you to your room so you wouldn't be left around all those people in your condition. I never once judged you, I never could, but I'm sorry if I ever did make you feel that way, it wasn't my intention.”

 The black haired boy stayed silent, processing the words that had just left her lips.

“You defiantly gave me a thought and a notion.” He gave her a small smile.

 She smiled back at him. Her heart felt filled, She couldn't understand the happiness that cursed through her body as she stared at him.

 “You really played with my heart and emotions,” She stated, laying her her legs out in front of her.

 He gave her a little smirk,”How about I give you love and devotion?”

 She rolled her eyes and laughed.”Please no mr. heartbreaker with me, Ive had enough of that for a whole year.”

 He stared at her, examining her feature slowly, afraid to break his gaze from her soft skin.

He scooted closer to her, they're hands barely touching as he brought his lips to her ear.

 “Would you eventually love me blue?” He whispered, his hot breath hitting the base of her ear, He turned his face to look into her eyes, their noses slightly touching.

 “Eventually.”

Note; I’ve had this in my drafts for a while and decided to finish it up real quick and post it. Please don't come for my neck if anything in the story doesn't line up with the movie, even details I just started watching them and felt like making this. Enjoy!

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 4 of this slow burn (which is fitting because I post the chapters slowly) story

Finally! The next chapter will follow on from this because it’s going to end up too long if I don’t post this chapter now. I hope you enjoy it! :)

You’d been stressed the last week and everyone could tell. A twenty thousand word uni essay you thought was in for the end of term turned out to have been due two weeks earlier. It only took one text from a fellow class member, who you never really spoke to or considered, asking you what your grade was to send you into a frantic meltdown. Luckily the Avengers were busy so you had Stark Tower to yourself for a few hours and took full advantage. By crying. A lot. Begging your professor to give you more time to hand it in (because you were sick cough cough) and planning the stupid thing to get it over with. Did you get it done eventually? Yes. Would a drunken chicken be impressed by your words? Doubtful.

Normally you gave Bruce your essays to look over but you couldn’t bring yourself to show him your so called ‘work’ so into the submissions it went. It was too embarrassing but your motivation levels had plummeted since meeting the Avengers and calling them your friends - you couldn’t care too much. In the scheme of things essays just didn’t seem important anymore.

On Sunday you submitted it and sat in silence for a moment. Everyone had gotten used to giving you space, for a change, so you were comfortable with quiet. However you were not going to quietly tell them you’d finally finished. No.

‘FINALLY!’ You yelled, purposefully leaning towards your door for maximum effect. Let them come to you, you thought. As the door opened and your friends pretty faces appeared you felt nothing but relief. It was silly to feel ‘free’ because it was just an essay but fucking hell did you despise avoiding everyone to write it for so long.

Scott came to you first with Tony, Thor and Vision behind. You tried not to revel in him being closest to you too much. He looked especially cute that afternoon, you could tell he’d had a lie in because of his slight bed hair, and you beamed at him. ‘So it’s finished?’ Making space for him so he could sit on your desk beside you, you nodded. ‘Yes!’

While Thor gave you a long speech about how pointless Earth school was in his charming way, Tony congratulated you like you’d had a baby.

‘Good. Knew that was hard for you.’

Scott was glued to your desk and you tried to make eye contact with everyone else in the room but him. Him and his pretty distracting face.

‘I have a brilliant idea!’ Tony then announced, commanding the room in his diva like way. Scott raised his eyebrows at you in anticipation before you all turned to look at the billionaire. ‘I think we’ve all disappointed ourselves this week. Do you know why? Work. We’ve been working too hard.’ Scott laughed and smiled down at you, which you returned. Poor Vision just stood in the doorframe glazed with visible confusion. It was like being in a Ted talk audience.

‘Y/N’s essay,’ Tony gestured to you. ‘My impeccable new suit. I’m sure Vision has been doing.. somethi- the point is, we need to party. My humble suggestion, which you’re free to disapprove of if you’re boring, is that we all get-‘

‘Smashed!’

The exclaim just left you. You had been fucking itching to be drunk all week and celebrate - even if it was a small achievement in the grand scheme of things. You wanted to do shots. Lie on the floor. Dance. Dance and finally eat! Somehow you hadn’t eaten anything all day and it was 4pm. Your stomach was growling at you.

Scott rubbed your shoulder playfully and smirked ‘I like that plan.’

‘Excuse me. My plan.’

You and Scott chose to ignore the diva in the room which of course Vision and his big computer brain had to comment on. ‘Erm...’ he hesitated as he walked towards the two of you in classic Vision fashion. ‘You two are-‘

‘About to find all the liquor!’ Before he could finish whatever awkward question he could ask you jumped out of your seat taking Scott with you. The cabinets where most of the alcohol got stored were all in the smaller of Tony’s kitchens. Scott’s hand in yours felt familiar and unfamiliar at the same time as you giddily dragged him down the hall. You could not stop smiling and he could sense your mood change.

‘Someone’s happy today.’

Of course you somehow took that as a hint to let his hand go, which you did but sadly. Your hand felt a bit lost as you walked and you couldn’t remember if you normally swung your arms or kept them still like Vision.

‘I’m warning you now,’ you opened the cupboards with no specific alcohol in mind ‘I plan on getting very drunk tonight.’ Fuck. There wasn’t any kopperberg left. Oh well you’d settle for gasoline- it was one of those days.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Scott chuckled at you. ‘When I was your age I got black out drunk almost daily.’ Once you were carrying a dangerous amount of bottles and cans you looked up at the man and he looked a bit smug. ‘Am I right in thinking you’re proud of yourself?’ He didn’t have to reply, you could tell he was.

The two of you laid out the cans and wine, vodka, mixer and beer bottles out on the counter carefully. It looked like a beautiful recipe for disaster but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t all done only weeks before. The amusing sounds of Tony bossing everyone around to get off their asses and party met your ears. Your main goal was to start drinking as soon as possible. Red wine, you found in your ‘scientific studies’, got you the drunkest the quickest so it was the obvious choice.

As you swug it, Scott hesitated about starting his beer. He watched you but for once you didn’t have the energy to wonder what he was thinking. ‘Oh no,’ you laughed and carried on drinking. ‘I’m gonna have to peel you off this floor later aren’t I?’ His words were worrying but there was a gleam in his eyes and an energy radiating off the two of you that didn’t care what happened.

You laughed and told him that yes he definitely would have to. He seemed to think it was his mission and his alone to look after you. How sweet and incorrect. ‘Scott,’ saying his name never got old ‘Don’t you dare stay sober for me. I’ve never seen you drunk.’ Somehow you hadn’t. Unless you had and couldn’t remember which was also likely. The idea of the two of you dancing together and Scott twirling you under his arm made your cheeks warm and your chest flutter.

The urge to be overly sarcastic was building, why you got like this around attractive people when you were bored you didn’t know. It wasn’t your best trait - funny sometimes but not exactly mature of you. It was almost addictive and spending time with Tony’s sarcy ass did nothing to help you think before you spoke.

You leant on the counter drinking but your mind was trying to decide which playlist you were going to force everyone to dance to. ‘Plughole.’ Scott stated.

‘Wow...’

‘It’s too quiet in here. Did I miss anything?’ Tony strutted in with his classic arrogance. You gestured to yourself and repeated Scott’s remark while chugging more wine. If you didn’t feel tipsy soon you’d start taking shots.

‘Shots!’ Clint yelled, entering the kitchen behind Thor, Peter, Nat, Bruce and Vision. Maybe the archer could mind read after all? He was holding an oven tray filled with shot glasses. Just- a beautiful sight. Scott looked apprehensive on your behalf but that didn’t matter. If he didn’t want you to get plastered he didn’t have to stay with you all night. Nat would.

‘Finally, yes please yes.’

It was pure chaos before long, which was exactly what you craved after such a boring week. ‘I want it all’ by the Arctic Monkeys was playing, despite Thor’s drunken Asgardian chant suggestions, and you had somehow taken 5 shots already. Scott was on 4, Vision going strong with 0 (of course), Thor had beaten you with 7 and yet Tony was winning with 8. You lost count quickly after that.

There were so many people in one room you felt like leaving would be impossible. You’d have to crowd surf to get to the shitting toilet. ‘Scott!’ He’d stayed near you until Steve arrived, looking sophisticated in a suit. That was when drunk you decided Scott could only leave you for Steve. One exception.

‘Scott!’

He heard you the second time, just barely over the music Sam had turned up. You felt needy and raw. Almost all of your ‘holding back reserves’ had been chained up by copious amounts of vodka. ‘Are you okay?’ Slurring his words slightly, Scott put his hand on your shoulder looking genuinely concerned. Your heart swelled. ‘Aw fuck.’ He didn’t respond at your accidental ‘sentence’ that had meant to stay in your brain.

‘I need to throw up.’

You didn’t even know if you felt sick but you felt something. It was just words and a half arsed explanation for leaving the lively room. The two of you were stood in the centre of the dance circle so leaving was a struggle. Avoiding Tony’s flaying arms and Sam’s impressive dancing to find the empty corridor felt like an obstacle course.

As soon as you and Scott reached the bathroom your stomach grumbled. ‘Oh.’ You held it and looked up at Scott’s confused face with realisation. ‘I think I’m just h-hungry! And you burst out laughing in his drunken haze Scott joined in.

‘Pretty sure there’s cake over here.’ He laughed, partially at your excitement but also at his own. Neither one of you ate well without encouragement and all you wanted was to devour sugar or his face if you got any drunker.

Taglist: @supraveng

[morgana-ren]

my kink is shiggy going absolutely feral and wrecking the pussy

 I am soooo sorry this took so long to respond to. I’ve been working nutty hours and it’s been busier than usual. I’m also sososo sorry the quality sucks. I wrote half of it tonight and I am crazy sick. I’ve got some sort of awful flu and I’m like coughing to the point where I can’t breathe and my mouth tastes like blood and my body feels like I was hit by a train. I hope you like it though :/ (BTW this ended up way longer and weirdly… sweeter than I originally intended? I hope it’s still okay though)

He’s sitting at the bar, and admittedly, he’s had a few more drinks than he usually has. Originally, he just wanted to take the edge off, but now he’s feeling a little bit loose. His inhibitions are definitely lower than they should be, so he’s maintaining his composure by trying to keep to himself. He very rarely allows himself to relax like this, but it’s been one hell of a week, and his pent-up rage and anger is threatening to boil over unless he lets himself decompress. It’s for his sake, and more importantly, for the sake of everyone around him, so he allows himself this one.

There’s only one little problem.

That problem is you.

Even at his most attentive, the absolute height of his prowess, he was starting to realize that there was something a little different about you. Don’t get me wrong, he cared about all of his team. They were his family now and he was content with that. But occasionally he found his eyes lingering on you a little too long, getting a little too lulled by the sound of your voice. He would even go as far as to say he felt something akin to giddiness when you would plop down on the stool next to him at the bar.

Tomura was no fool. He knew what it was. He understood in some capacity that he was attracted to you. He had been since you joined. He figured it was inevitable to some degree. After all, he wasn’t exactly a people person, and the ones he did surround himself with weren’t exactly suited to his sexual tastes. He felt for Toga like a big brother would (not to mention the fact that she was underage and that was definitely not his cup of tea.) And the rest of the team? He’d rather shove a nail in his foot.

But you? You seemed a little too perfect.

He tried to play it off as his loneliness. A young female around his age with a powerful quirk and similar views? Of course nature would take its course and veer his attention toward you. That didn’t mean it had to be genuine, right? Surely it would die with time, fading into the background until it was nothing but a dull echo and eventually nonexistent. He was just touch starved, feeling particularly lonesome and isolated recently. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that you had been running circles around his mind lately. Nope. Not at all.

He didn’t spare you any extra attention, gave you no favors. He didn’t let his libido steer his judgement, letting his rational mind keep control instead. He was the leader after all, and it was his job to refrain from bias toward any member of his team. Favoring one or the other, especially because one had a face and personality partial to his own personal tastes, was not a good look. He was a professional. He needed to act like one.

He thought he was doing a pretty good job.

At least until now.

His grip on the glass is a little too tight, just a bit too strained. He can hear you laughing behind him, at what he doesn’t know, but he knows it was ashtray that made you do it. It had been like this the last half hour. You and Dabi had been playing some sort of drinking game and clearly having one hell of a time. Exchanging stories, bantering, and joking back and forth.

Tomura might as well have been a fly on the wall.

Neither one of you seemed to pay him any mind, letting him drink alone in peace. At least as much peace as he could have while you two were practically rioting behind him. With his back turned, you couldn’t see how unbelievably irritated he was either. He told himself it was the noise. He had a headache and you two really should keep it the fuck down. That’s what he told himself.

“Hey dollface, you ever played ‘never have I ever?”

Dabi’s slurring slightly, clearly already deep in his cups. Whatever bullshit game you had been playing before, you had obviously been winning. You seem essentially sober, and yet you were still humoring this asshole. Shigaraki closes his eyes and rolls them. You two were utterly juvenile.

“Not since I was a kid.” 

“You wanna play?” The suggestiveness in burn-unit’s voice is just a little too palpable. Shigaraki forces down another coming wave of irritation. He didn’t need to be subjected to this. Two of his subordinates acting like fucking baboons. 

“Sure. I hate playing quarters with you anyway. You suck at it, but the quarters you use get too warm and they keep burning my fingers.” 

“Can’t help it. I’m hot.” He raises his arms in a joking prostration, nearly falling off of his chair in the process. You chortle, snorting under your breath at his pathetic display. Shigaraki notes that you don’t disagree, however. 

“Tell you what, if you can keep your ass in that chair, I’ll play it with you.” 

“Ladies first.” Dabi resituates himself on the seat, loudly pulling himself forward several times until he’s level with the table once more. 

“Okay, let me think… Never have I ever…” You pause for a moment, thinking. “Stolen a car.” 

“Fuckin’ seriously? I had you pegged all wrong, doll! You’re definitely more boring than I thought.” 

“Well? Have you?” You seem to already know the answer, but that’s the point. 

Tomura knows the answer too. In fact, Dabi has stolen cars under his orders. Looks like ashtray loses this round. With any luck, he’ll eventually black out soon and maybe things would calm down.

“Yeah, yeah, give me the cup.” There’s the sound of a shot glass being passed across the table, and then a very loud crash that nearly makes Tomura jump. 

“Bottle’s empty.” Dabi says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just knock it to the floor, shattering it on accident. “Go get another one.”

“Yes master.” 

It’s blatantly sarcastic and Shigaraki knows it is, but it still makes him flush slightly. Those words from your lips are not what he needs to hear right now.

You scoot away from the table, walking over behind the bar where Shigaraki is seated. There’s a pair of cabinets hanging overhead above him that you’ve got your eye on. However, as you stand in front of him and reach up to scrounge through the inside of them, he does his best to shake his shaggy hair in front of his eyes, trying to cover his ruddy face. You don’t quite realize it, but as you’re digging around up there, you’re giving him an exceedingly generous view of your cleavage.

He tries to tear his eyes away, trying to look anywhere else butat your overexposed chest. It’s unprofessional. It’s crude. It makes him feellike a dirty pervert, leering at you when you’re so oblivious. He doesn’t want to look. He’s not going to look. He’s going to pick up his drink and go in the next room and…

He’s looking. 

Look, you can’t just do that, okay? I mean, you don’t know what you’re doing but still! He might be the leader, but he’s also a man and he has needs. Wants. Desires. And right now, there’s a pair of tits almost directly in his face, so achingly close that he could touch them if he wanted. His fingers are digging into the skin of his palm, trying to quell all the desperate urges he’s feeling right now, chastising himself in his head for even thinking that way. He holds out, thinking of strategies or games or something, anything to beat off those thoughts. Beat off. Fuck.

Finally, you slam the cupboard shut, apparently not having found what you were looking for. He could have technically told you that there was no liquor up there, but far be it from him to make your life any easier. You opt instead to look behind you in some cupboards lining the wall. He takes another sip of his drink, watching you as you fall to your knees, rifling around in the dusty, cobwebbed enclosure. 

“What the fuck is taking so long?” Dabi pipes up from the back, kicking at the glass shards on the floor. 

“I can’t find any!” You call back, before sparing a glance towards Shigaraki himself. “Hey boss, can we-”

“No.” He curls his hand protectively around his own bottle. Like hell he’s giving his liquor to that drunken moron behind him.

You sigh, returning to your efforts. He watches in slight amusement as you toss shit around on the inside, very clearly growing frustrated with your lack of success. At least until you bend down, practically crawling inside. Your upper half is encased on the inside of the cheap wooden hutch, but your bottom half… 

Your backside is perked out directly toward him. You’re wiggling and worming, smacking things out of your way in your quest for more booze, and it’s definitely not helping. He can see the lines and contours of your ass through your pants, moving and shimmying around so much that he’s subconsciously brought his hand up to his face, biting deeply on a knuckle as he watches. 

He doesn’t want to watch. He wants to close his eyes, to look away, to roll his eyes into his head, anything but ogle you like this. His pants are becoming increasingly tight, straining against his crotch. He’s acutely aware of this, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. 

Fucking alcohol. It really has been a while.

“Got it!” You maneuver your way out of the alcove, clutching a bottle of musty liquor in your hands, holding it up triumphantly. Shigaraki snaps out of his haze, face blossoming into a deep shade of crimson. Maybe he’s had enough for tonight… 

“Yeah, yeah, hurry it up half-pint. I’m losing my buzz.” Dabi is very blatantly more than ‘buzzed’, and he seems hellbent on getting black out. It’s no skin off Shigaraki’s ass, at least that way he’ll probably fall over and pass out and you two will finally leave him alone and give him time to compose himself and chase away these intrusive thoughts. 

“Here you go, you big lug.” 

He reaches for the bottle in your hands but you pull it away, shaking your head at him and pouring the shot for him. He shoots you a glare, but takes it none the less. His head lulls over as the liquor burns down his throat and Tomura is betting two more and he’ll be on the floor. 

He just has to hold out until then. It’s probably a good thing that Dabi is on the brink of black out, because Shigaraki is rapidly running out of patience, dropping levels lower every time he has to hear Dabi’s goddamn voice. He’s almost always baseline annoyed with patchwork, but something was making him exceedingly irritating tonight. Every time he spoke you to you, Tomura found his lip twitching at the poorly concealed inflection in his voice. He doubted you even noticed it, but he sure as fuck could.

“My turn.” Dabi manages to garble out, leaning forward toward you on the table, smiling deviously. “Never have I ever… Fucked a member of the team.” 

Tomura can barely hear your shock above his own. Heat prickles painfully below his eyes, mouth slightly agape and both his hands curling into fists. He doesn’t understand why he’s so mad, so angry at it, but he doesn’t exactly care enough to analyze it right now. It’s the typical sort of bullshit shenanigan that drunk people get up to, but it sends his rage meter through the roof. He’s at the end of his rope.

“What?” You laugh anxiously, a barely concealed look of discomfort on your face. “I mean like, yeah, neither have I.” 

Dabi leans even more forward, pushing up from his chair and stabilizing himself on the table as he enters your personal space. His eyelids are lowered, either from the drink or his drunken attempt to be seductive, but either way, it’s a bit laughable. “Do you want to?” 

“That’s enough!” 

Tomura has shoved himself off his stool, kicking it aside as he faces you both. You look utterly started, but Dabi seems unsurprised by his outburst, cocking his head over with a bored expression. “Whattaya want, creep? We’re busy over here.” 

Shigaraki opts to ignore Dabi, instead narrowing his eyes on you. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you looked frightened, eyes popped like a deer in headlights, no doubt wondering why it was you getting the brunt of the scolding when it was very clearly Dabi who was crossing boundaries in front of the boss. Right now, he doesn’t care. 

He stalks over to you, harshly wrapping four fingers around your wrist and dragging you off into the nearby hallway. “I need to speak with you. Now.” 

You gulp almost audibly as he yanks you across the room and into the darkened corridor while Dabi rolls his eyes and scoffs, reaching for the bottle again. Tomura can feel your anxious eyes on the back of his head, no doubt wondering what you were in for, and honestly, even he didn’t know. He had acted on impulse, being led entirely by some instinct that had taken over his brain. 

He brings you down deep into the bowels of the building before he finally stops. It’s where you’re certain no one can hear you scream, no matter how many times you tell yourself that this is your leader and he wouldn’t do that to you. He’s got you against a wall as he stares down at you, crimson irises burning into yours. He looks pissed, but he’s just glaring down at you silently, letting the tension build to unbearable levels. 

“Boss?” You squeak, unable to handle not knowing. 

“Quiet. I’m thinking.” He hisses, snarling at you. 

“B-but boss, I didn’t-”

“I said shut up!” He slams his hands on either side of your head, narrowly avoiding decaying the wall behind you. He’s leaning down, face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your cheek, moist and chilling you to the bone. You’re unsure of what exactly is about to happen, and for a moment, he is too. He’s frustrated and flustered and he has no fucking idea what the hell he’s even doing here.

That doesn’t last long. 

Fuck it. 

He crushes his mouth to yours so hard he knows it probably hurts you, but you don’t seem to register it. Your eyes are snapped open, mouth slack and unmoving against his own in your stunned state. To hell with it, he needs to get this out of his system. If you want to hate him later, fine, but he needs to do this. He can’t handle it anymore.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is that after your initial shock wears off, you rake your hands through his hair, pulling him tighter against you, returning his fevered kiss with equally intense fervor. You’re practically devouring him, trying to slip your tongue between his closed lips. While his motions are automatic, his brain practically short circuits.

You’re… kissing him back?

It hits him like a kick in the ass. You’re kissing him back. You are reciprocating. Hell, you’re practically directing at this point. Your hands are clawing at his silver locks, yanking him closer and closer until he can barely breathe. He doesn’t care, he couldn’t care less if he never breathes again as long as you keep yourself pressed against him.

He can feel your body flush against his own, bathing in the warmth of your heat. This is all happening so fast, almost too fast. He never in his wildest dreams would have imagined that you could want him back, and it’s spurring his mind into overdrive. He knows what little self-control he has slipping, and the urge to shove you back further against the wall and take you is becoming a little too overwhelming. He needs to slow down while he still has the ability.

He pulls away if only slightly, just enough that he can croak your name, nails digging into your shoulder in warning. You can see his flushed cheeks, eyes glassy and low. His adam’s apple bobs, swallowing hard against your throat and you can tell he’s doing is best to not envelop you completely in his haze. It’s physically paining him in more ways than one, and you can feel a certain thick hardness worrying between your thighs. Gauging by his facial expression, he’s trying so desperately to communicate to you what’s going through his head without needing to say it.

You get the message. You know he’s trying so hard to keep in check, and no matter how badly he wants it, he’s going to resist. It’s his last defense.

Unfortunately for him, your only desire is to throw gasoline on that fire. You want it, and you want it bad. So, you pull a very unfair move.

You purse your lips in a pout, a simpering little whine emitting from your throat. Your hands make their way down to his narrow hips, gripping him closer between your parted thighs as you roll your body against his overly excitable nether region. Biting your lip, you bring your face close to his ear, whispering.

“Tomura…”

You feel him tense up, seizing as if frozen. His breath is caught in his chest, unable to move or think or breathe. There’s no mistaking the tone in your voice. Your head is in the same space as his. Is he asleep? Dreaming? Alive, even? There’s no way someone like him made it into heaven, so what the fuck was happening?

For the first time since you met him, he looks confused. His thin brows are furrowed, mouth open as if he wants to say something but can’t even find the words. Speechless, for once. He’s not even looking at you anymore, usually thin pupils dilated and switching rapidly between alternate sides of his eyes as if he’s expecting some sort of ambush. He’s utterly lost, and for a moment, you almost feel sorry for him. He’s clearly not used to this. He just needs a tiny little push.

“Fuck me.”

His eyes snap back to yours, a small gasp leaving him. All he needed was your permission, and you just gave it to him. Once you opened that door, there was no closing it. He knows it. You know it. And you’re more than okay with that.

“Please?”

He gives you exactly one second to inhale before he’s on you again. Hands clawing down your back as you struggle to undo your pants which seem exponentially more complicated than they did hours ago. As you kick them down your legs, he catches the hint that your clothing is optional, opting to rip and tear at your shirt rather than take the time to undo it properly. You want to scold him for ruining it, but that’s a bit difficult to do when his tongue is so far down your throat that it might as well be your own. You have a feeling he wouldn’t care even if you could.

You try to do him the favor of unbuttoning his pants, tugging them slightly down his hips, but before you can finish, he grabs your wrists, guiding them up to find anchor behind his neck. You can tell he’s trying to be as gentle and careful as he can, but his hands are shaking and stuttering against you, prying his pinkie fingers back so far that you’re sure it’s cramping him. He doesn’t want to risk harming you, but every bone in his body is screaming at him to tear into you like a predator.

You cling to him as he jerks his jeans down just enough and awkwardly frees himself with one hand, eyes never leaving yours. He’s waiting for you to shove him away, push him off, tell him you were kidding and laugh at him, reject him somehow. But you never do. Even as you can feel him against your legs, he pauses, needing some sort of final confirmation before he goes any further.

You let one hand unhinge from behind him, tracing his jawline and then grabbing his face gently in your hands. He looks vulnerable, almost confused, barely holding back whatever overwhelming need he has and it’s for your sake. You do the only thing you can do, the best reassurance you can think of.

You give him a gentle kiss on the lips, and then nod.

The switch flips.

You barely have time to clasp your hands back around his neck before he’s hiking you around up around his waist by your legs. You manage to lock your ankes together before he’s on you like a feral beast, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck, growling and gnashing his teeth on the tender skin of your throat. He’s grinding his erection between your thighs, rubbing against you and teasing your clit until you’re working against him with equal ferocity, practically ripping his hair by the roots.

He’s got you pinned between his lithe body and the wall, his nails digging into the thick skin of your thighs as he groans against your collar bone. He can feel how wet you are and it’s driving him into a frenzy, your little whimpers only serving to harden his already aching cock. The barely controlled undulation of his hips against yours but a taste of what he’s going to give you, and if he makes you wait much longer, you’re going to lose it.

He lets go of one of your legs, letting you steady yourself with your fastened ankles as his hand creeps between your waiting thighs, stroking and rubbing your nub until you’re bucking your body up into his touch. You’re breathing heavy, gyrating your body to try and increase the friction he’s providing you but it’s not enough. Your pleading looks and half formulated sentences coax a small, cruel giggle from him, reveling in the fact that you’re practically as needy as he is.

“You want it?”

His words are deceptively calm, but the truth of the matter is reflected in his eyes. Wide and bulging, blown out in lust. He’s barely even blinking, memorizing every detail of your wanton body on display for him. His fingers are twitching on his cock as he lines himself with your entrance, every single muscle longing to slam into you full force, but he wants to draw this out. Wants you to beg, needs it.

You nod your head vigorously, a pathetic whine all you can vocalize. You’re squirming in his arms, trying to impale yourself on him and failing. A frustrated groan and a pleading look later, and he decides that it’ll suffice.

”Take it.”

He plunges in, bottoming out inside you with one swift motion. The pressure is intense, stinging even with as wet as you are, but the moan that escapes him is unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him before. He’s always so calculated, so meticulous, but the sheer unadulterated carnality of the sigh that leaves him makes you clench tighter around him. You didn’t think something as simple as a sound could arouse you so much, but something about seeing him so uninhibited makes you hotter than you thought possible.

It takes him a second to adjust to your tightness, but he quickly gets his bearings. Hissing under his breath, he begins thrusting, canting his hips in rhythm as he fucks up into your pliable body. He’s pulling no punches, battering you into the wall until you’re certain there will be bruises. Tenderness is a distant memory but you don’t seem to mind as your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that it’s almost as if you don’t ever want to let go. Your hands untangle themselves from his hair, grabbing onto his shoulders and shredding into his hoodie as you desperately try to stable yourself as he bounces you recklessly on his cock.

Your lecherous moans echo off the walls alongside his huffing and cussing in a cacophony of sin, but neither one of you can muster concern about anyone else hearing you. All you can think about is taking him deeper, rolling your hips in time with his as he pounds into you. He couldn’t give a fuck less if anyone else walks in on it either, even All for One couldn’t command his attention anywhere else but you. The only thing he knows is that he needs to be inside you, needs to feel you and he’ll kill anything that tries to get in the way of that.

Briefly, in the heat of the moment, your eyes meet. Both of you are glossed over, running purely on the fumes of the lustful haze, but there’s something underneath it all that softens you, going beyond pure greed and lasciviousness. He must sense it too, because his free hand comes up to cup your face, puckering your lips with his fingers before he slams his lips to yours once more. There’s a passion to it, an urgency that says something that neither of your words can, and even as you lose yourself moaning into his open mouth, he never lets you go.

Between the frantic pumping and the heated neediness of the kiss, breath is few and far between. You’re both panting in time with each other, desperate for air and each other. You can feel the sweat building on his brow as he rests his forehead against yours, muttering something deep and incomprehensible between consuming you. You’re building up, both reaching your peak and soon his pistoning becomes erratic and broken. You breathe in his ragged, shuddering exhales, swallowing every ounce of himself that he gives you. You never want to let go. You never want to let go.

His cock throbs deep inside you and your orgasm proceeds his. You feel hot ropes of cum coat your insides and your walls milk him even further into completion, clinging fiercely to each other for purchase. Your head is thrown back, practically sobbing as he ushers you into a pleasure so intense that you’re not entirely sure your body can handle it. You’re left drowning and breathless, legs wrapped around him so tightly that it’s cutting off blood flow, arms coiled around his shoulders for dear life.

His mouth is open in a wordless cry, fractured wheezes ripping themselves from his throat as he tries to pull his soul back down to his body. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, can’t feel his extremities, all he can feel is you and your embrace and he decides he never wants to lose it as his lips find yours again, swallowing your cries of pleasure.

Even as you both float back down from your bliss, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to. He knows what’s coming and he’s desperately trying to keep it at bay. He knows he has to let you go eventually, no matter how much he fights it. It’s inevitable, but he’ll draw it out as long as he can.

You don’t stop him.

He kisses you until one of you has no choice but to break it to breathe and he curses the function. With the break, he knows the moment is over.

Gently, he puts you down and does his best to keep you steady on weak, wobbly legs. Your thighs are twitching, already beginning to bruise where his hipbones repeatedly beat into them. He wants to say he feels bad about it, but he doesn’t. It’s a reminder of what you shared. You don’t seem to mind either, even as you nearly fall on your ass trying to gather your pants back up around your legs. Instinctively, you go to button your blouse, but you are quickly reminded that it’s no longer wearable as you realize there’s a gigantic rip through it, and several buttons scattered around on the floor beneath you. You quirk your brow at him, giving him a look of faux annoyance as you take it off and throw it at him.

“Oh.”

He catches the hint but seems lost for a minute. He’s looking around at the walls and the floor as if there’d be a convenient dresser that would pop out of thin air, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. He’s clearly still post-orgasmic delirium, and there’s something just so adorable about seeing such a serious, brooding figure so utterly clueless.

Eventually, he sighs, placing four of his fingers underneath the bottom hem of his hoodie and carelessly yanking it up over his head before chucking it at you in the same manner. He says nothing, but you understand. You look at it for a moment before raising it up over your head, awkwardly trying to maneuver your head and arms into the proper holes in the dark hallway. It takes you a good minute, but you manage.

“I’ll get you a new one.” He’s bashfully scratching the back of your head as he holds your shirt in his hand. He seems embarrassed now, which makes it very hard to resist the urge to giggle at him.

“Don’t even worry about it. I didn’t care about it that much.”

You tuck your hands into the pocket of the hoodie, and you realize just how comfy it is. No wonder he always wears it. You’re probably going to steal it. It definitely, absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that his scent is bombarding you now. Nothing to do at all with the fact that you can still feel the warmth of his body while you wear it. Nope. No chance. No way.

“You should bring that back to me when you change.”

You’ve been foiled.

“I’ll be up. You know where my room is, right?”

Oh.

OH.

You grin cheekily at him, shaking your head. “Yeah, I know where your room is. Give me a few minutes and I’ll drop it by.”

You could swear you see him smile a little when you agree.

“Good. That one’s my favorite.”

You want to make a joke about whether he’s talking about you or the hoodie, but he’s already stalking off. You’re not worried, you’ll see him soon enough.

You have to cross through the kitchen to get back to your room, and you are very surprised to see Dabi still sitting in the same chair where you left him. Well, not surprised to see him, but surprised that he’s not on the floor and is still very much awake. He looks over at you, frowning as he slides a shot glass across the table towards your direction.

“I think you have to take that last shot now.”

[chalkrevelations]

Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

[matrixreimagined]

The Dream Chronicles

Chapter Six on A03

or right here :)

"Come on, coppertop. Flying in the Matrix doesn't mean shit if you can't support your own weight in the real world. Five more."

Neo dipped down again, feeling his arms quake as he grew closer to the floor before he forced himself back up. And again. And again. The sweat beaded on his brow dripped to the steel floor. His arms and abdomen and legs were aching for five minutes of just sitting down. He'd be happy to collapse. But Apoc must have been a drill sergeant in another life because the man knew exactly which buttons to push.

You think Trin deserves a weak, scrawny kid who can barely muster his way through a pull-up? You think she's going to want someone who can only embrace her with the floppy-noodle arms of an infant?

Fuck that.

Neo let his arms take his weight and ignored the quiver of his abdomen while he closed his eyes and pictured hers. There was no waking up from this, he had accepted. This was real. The dreams he had lived for had become his reality and he would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to keep it.

Neo inhaled has he dipped down a final time before forcing himself back up. He let out a small gasp as he allowed his knee to make contact with the floor.

"Well done," Apoc said, tossing a towel at him.

Neo brushed away the sweat before trading it for a water bottle. "Please tell me we're done for the day?"

"Why?" Apoc quirked a brow. "Think you got enough in you for another round?"

Neo decided silence was the best course of action.

Apoc shot him a grin. "Don't worry. My goal is to push your limits. Not break them. Because you'll be doing this tomorrow, too."

"Great." He took a long gulp. "Love this. Super fun."

"I take it you have no memories of this?"

"What? Basic training? Calisthenics? Can't say I do."

"It won't be forever. Just until you're at a healthy mass. Think you could eat lunch?"

"Eating it won't be the problem. I'm worried about holding it down."

"We can forgo lunch for now. Want to take a nap before you get your Matrix crash courses?"

Desperately, but he shook his head in denial anyway. He'd slept long enough. "No. I'm good to start. I want to catch back up to where I was. Or, where I should be, I guess."

That was going to take a while, he knew. While his dreams had given him enormous insights into the world around him, every member of the crew looked at him like a stranger. Even Trinity did not know him the way that he knew her.

Yes, she was welcoming. The undeniable chemistry between them was alive and real. And the crew were largely trying to not make him feel like an outsider, but the fact remained they didn't know him.

He could recite one of Dozer's kids' favorite story books cover to cover. He knew Tank's anniversary and that Apoc collected old-world trinkets. He knew that Switch would slouch when they had a winning hand at poker and Morpheus was a worse liar than Neo was. But they did not know him.

And they wouldn't. Not until he had reintroduced himself. Not until he listened to them all, relearning what he knew. He would be a stranger until he relearned himself.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to take a short break?"

"Positive," said Neo, rising to his feet. "Besides, I'll just be in the chair anyway. I'll relax my muscles and work my brain."

Apoc led the way out of the makeshift gym in the engine room and back to the main level. Trinity was sitting on a stool near the operating station examining the screens intensely.

She turned at the sound of steps and offered a smile when she saw them. "How did it go?" she asked Apoc.

"Amazingly. Honestly, I've never had a coppertop do so well in the first week, let alone the first day."

Neo looked at him incredulously. "Seriously? You gave me so much shit about how I was doing!"

Apoc smirked. "Well, a pat on the back wasn't going to help you do better, Messiah."

"You'll sleep like a baby tonight," said Tank. "You want to take a break before you start this?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm ready to start."

"All right. Trin, can you get him set up?" Tank spun around back to the computer and opened a case with a bunch of small drives. "I know you already remember a lot but your girl wants us to cover your bases." He held up one that had Jiu-Jitsu crammed across it in red ink and ensured that Neo was indeed plugged in and ready to go. "Hold on."

A sharp pulse went through his body, tensing him up. He felt impossibly stiff as a rush of information entered his system and then it was gone, leaving him thrown back and limp. And breathed in and shuddered. "Oh shit."

"Hey Mikey, I think he likes it." Tank gave him a grin, but his eyes flashed to Trinity. She smirked and swept his brow.

"How do you feel?"

"Shit, that's a rush."

"Feel up for another?"

"Hell yes." He leaned back. "Hell yes."

Kung Fu.

Karate.

Aikido.

Taekwondo.

Krav Maga.

Fencing.

Arnis.

Boxing.

Kickboxing.

Drunken boxing.

Quarterstaff.

Judo.

It went on and on, hour by hour. Every offer of a break from Tank was denied. He kept going, desperate to regain the parts of his memories that were lost.

Morpheus came by when dinner had passed without a sign of Tank, Trinity, or Neo.

"How's he doing?" Morpheus asked.

"He's a freaking machine," Tank said, rubbing at his own eyes. "Not even tired from this. The only reason we're stopping in the next half hour is because Mamacita over here is insisting."

Trin whacked him upside the head and Tank winced even as he grinned.

Morpheus looked at Trinity. "Can I ask what your plan is?"

"Day divided into real world and construct for the next few days. He's physically training with Apoc, who insists he's doing well. I think with the speed at which he can handle the trainings, he should be done in two days with operations, combat, and first aid. From there, we can divide time in the construct between vehicular and stealth trainings and practice within the construct. Open world—drop him in and see what he can do and go from there."

It was a thorough plan though Morpheus quirked a brow. "Hmm."

"You disagree?" she asked, not unkindly.

"No. It makes sense. I'm just surprised you're choosing to have him spend so much time in training."

"Like I said, Morpheus, it's not the training itself that I disagree with. He needs just as much as any newbie. But Neo has an advantage in speed and that will be utilized."

Neo, whose eyes had been fluttering as he learned to stitch, cauterize, and otherwise close a wound, blinked back into reality. He exhaled sharply. His eyes opened and he caught Morpheus' gaze.

"Neo," the captain addressed, "how are you holding up?"

"I know what moves were missing in my mind," he replied, his lips twitching into a smile. "I know Kung Fu."

"Just a few more programs and first aid will be done," Trinity told him as Tank switched the drives. "We'll stop there for the day."

Neo nodded and smiled at her before Tank inserted the next lesson and, once again, Neo's eyes fluttered through a new program.

"Truly astounding," Morpheus murmured, watching the screen that monitored Neo's brain as the new information was uploaded.

"I've never seen a poddie adjust like this," Tank said with a disbelieving shake of the head. "This point, we're usually still getting the kid to trust us enough to upload something and if we're lucky enough to get them in the chair, they can barely handle an hour at this."

"He's doing well." Trinity handed Tank the next disk in the program sequence, allowing Neo to remain completely wired in while his brain recalibrated itself with the new information.

"Doing well?" Tank said. "Trin, your boyfriend is freaking out of control."

"Still human," she repeated the small phrase that had somehow become her mantra over the past days. Yes, Neo knew more than any poddie had ever known. Yes, his skills were already unparalleled. But she'd be damned if that was all he was reduced to.

"Ain't denying it," said Tank, "which is kind of what makes this all so incredible."

Trin gave a slight nod. "Just make sure it stays remembered when we get to Zion. I don't know what's going to be worse—the Council or the military."

"None of it will be pretty. You'll have your work cut out for you."

"That's why I want him in shape as soon as possible. Aside from the obvious reasons. Neo is going to need to be able to take care of himself so that we can deal with the backlash of finding the One."

"It might not be so bad. Most people will be happy."

"Happy or angry don't help me. Happy will be excited, intrusive. He's as anti-social as they come. He won't like being the center of attention. And angry? He'll be dealing with the backlash of the disbelievers of the world, pushing him down without knowing a goddamn thing about him. The only people who will actually help us are going to be the apathetic ones."

"Keep some faith, sister." Tank placed his hand on her arm. "We found the One. That's pretty damn amazing."

She shot him a smile before turning her attention back to Neo's brain scans.

Morpheus shook his head. "We really did it. Decades of searching and he's only feet away from us."

Trin ran her hand through her hair.

Morpheus, Tank... honestly everyone was so damned excited that they had found him.

And it wasn't that she wasn't.

Trinity could not deny the way her heart pounded just being feet away from him, nor the way her skin practically ached to be in contact with his, always. When he had been training with Apoc, she had to force herself to focus on the routine maintenance she had been working because all she wanted to do was go to him.

Even though she knew where he was, she had wanted to track him down and not let him walk from her sight.

What made it worse was that the feeling was mutual.

He didn't just cling to her because she was familiar. In a way, they all were to Neo.

It was so much deeper than that.

Neo had woken up without her just a day ago and had wrecked half of the medbay because she hadn't been there.

Through and through. Balls to bone.

Isn't that what the Oracle had said all those years ago?

She fought the urge to laugh. The Oracle certainly never mentioned anything like this.

"You okay, Trin?"

Tank and Morpheus both eyed her with the same look of concern. She offered a smile.

"Just thinking." Without any real explanation, Trin turned her attention back to the screen. "How much more does he have to go in this stack?"

"Maybe thirty minutes."

Trinity nodded. "All right. Once this stack is finished, he's taking a break. I don't care if he can handle more."

"You got it."

"I'll be back." And it took her more effort than she'd like to admit to not flat out run from the room and to her room. Their room.

She leaned against the door, letting out a long breath.

Overwhelmed, both by the fact that they had actually found him and by everything that Neo seemed to know, she crossed to the small sink. Turning the faucet, she splashed cold water onto her face.

Even leaving the Core to take five goddamn minutes to reassess had her on edge. It felt wrong.

She had lived without him for years and now leaving him under Tank's perfectly capable care had her ready to punch the glass in front of her.

Trinity turned the faucet off, leaning forward against the sink.

Did her heart always beat so heavily?

Her body quaked.

Neo knew her intimately. The books next to her bed. The ink on her body. Every single place where the smallest touch would have her gasping against him. It shouldn't be possible but there was no denying it.

Her chest felt tight, her head was pounding.

Ans his memories… What did he know? What had he seen?

Some of them were conflicting, it seemed, but they all focused on her.

The Oracle had said nothing about that.

Her breaths began to come faster and faster.

He loved her; he had said in his moments of clarity after arriving on the ship.

Did he? Or did he love a memory of her?

There was a loud creak and she wanted to push up and look behind her, but her muscles were frozen.

She inhaled through her nose, but each breath was still short.

There was a thud of the door closing and two arms wrapped around her from behind.

"It's all right," Neo whispered gently, pulling her back into his chest.

The world seemed to be slipping from her fingers but he was firm in his grip, holding her upright. He stepped back, nearly dragging her with him as he guided her back to the bed softly. "It's okay, Trin."

He sat down, pulling her to his lap. It took little effort. She fell back into him with ease even as her breathing continued to come in heavy pants.

With one hand, he held her steadily to him. With the other, he gently caressed her as he kept whispering sweet assurances. "You're safe. I'm here. I've got you."

His words and ministrations didn't stop. She tucked her head into the crevice of his neck and breathed in his scent. There was still the tinge of antiseptic but there was something rich and earthy underneath it. Warm and gentle and so utterly Neo.

She felt a kiss atop her head.

"I'm never letting go," he whispered and the doubt started to slip away at last.

Her breathing slowly came back down and she let out a long breath.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

She swallowed. Wasn't she supposed to be the one comforting him?

"I don't know." And Christ, had she ever sounded so weak and unsure? She was one breath away from a whimper. "It's so much."

His grip tightened and he held her closer. "I know, love. I'm so sorry."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now."

"You feel what you feel, Trin. You don't need to feel anything."

"Not feeling isn't the problem," she said with a shake of her head. "I feel… so much right now. More than I ever have in my life and I don't know how to make sense of it." She sighed softly, leaning back to get a better view of the man who was undoubtedly the One. "Aren't you supposed to be finishing up the programs?"

Neo offered a small smile. "Asked Tank to take me out. Something felt off."

He wasn't talking about the program.

Trinity swallowed. "Hooked up to the Construct, you felt me having a panic attack?"

"I knew something was wrong," he said, his eyes staring at her with such concern and such adoration that it was hard to take in. "I didn't know what. Told Tank I wasn't feeling well"— thank god for small favors, she thought—"and came to find you."

Her lower lip quivered. Oh.

"I know…" Neo looked torn. "I know that this isn't easy for you. I… can't imagine what you are going through right now. And I'm not making it easy. Even now"—he sighed and shook his head ever so softly—"I'm not making this easy. If you want me to go, if you need space from me—"

"I don't." It came so quickly it surprised Trinity but it was true. "I don't want you to go. I don't want to be away from you. I don't want a moment to go by where I'm not touching you but"—she raked her hand through her hair harshly before continuing—"Jesus, I… I don't know you, Neo. But I do. And I need you and I don't know how that's possible." She looked into his eyes, the words spilling from her faster without leaving a moment to breathe. "I can't make sense of this. I don't know you, but you are so familiar to me. Every step away from you, even to let you train, makes my skin crawl but that shouldn't—"

Neo cupped the back of her head and brought his face to meet hers.

She kissed him back, lips slowing to allow for a hundred gentle but desperate kisses to pass. She angled her head, twisting in his arms to straddle his lap. Her hands traced up his torso, stopping only to cup his face.

Neo was hers.

"Why?" she asked, pulling back before placing another kiss on his lips, "Why does it feel like I'll die"—she pressed her forehead to his—"if you're taken from me?"

Neo shook his head softly enough so that she was undisturbed in their current position together. "I don't know. I wish I could give you the answers."

"You are mine," she breathed, the declaration like a prayer.

"I am." He tucked her hair back. "And you are mine."

"We don't even know each other," she whispered, "dreams and shadows aside."

"We'll learn," Neo promised, "but you cannot deny that this is more than just dreams and shadows." He pulled back and kissed her forehead. "It doesn't all need to make sense, Trin."

She offered a small smile. "Everyone is so excited about finding the One and all I want to do is lock you away so no one can touch you."

"Except you."

"Except me," she agreed, lightly stroking his face.

He kissed her nose and her lips once more. "I'm just saying, if you want to tie me to the bed and never let me up, I wouldn't be opposed."

She cracked a smile. "I'm sure you wouldn't."

With a gentle shove to the shoulders, she sent him down onto the bed. Neo grinned as his head hit the pillow.

"Finally going to have your wicked way with me?"

Trinity laughed, leaning down with him. "Shut up."

"Make me."

And she did. With a smile, leaning down to capture his lips. Soft and slow. There was no need to rush.

They had time.

The world could keep moving at the speed of light, but they didn't have to. Not when there were moments like this.

"Are we happy?" she asked, leaning against his chest.

Neo wrapped his arms around her and rolled her to her back, kissing her as he did.

"Deliriously."

She smiled and traced his brow with her finger, "Good."

Trinity pushed her hand around his head and wrapped her it around his neck, gently pulling him down to meet her in another kiss.

A sigh escaped her as their lips touched. Familiar and beautiful, he kissed her with a desperation that rocked Trinity to her core.

Years of waiting on her part and dreams on his, finally culminating in reality. How had she lived so long without this, without him? It was unfathomable.

Neo broke the kiss, only to hug her tighter.

"I'm sorry things are so confusing."

"It's not your fault."

"I know." He caressed her face. "I'm still sorry."

"We'll figure things out," she told him with a sense of renewed optimism.

Neo narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful. For a minute, he stared at her. Then, he pushed up to a sitting position, taking Trinity with him.

"I want to do this right," Neo said. "I don't—I don't want things with us to be based on a dream-world."

"Okay." She wasn't entirely certain what that meant.

"I'd like to take you out on a date."

Trinity blinked. "We're on a hovercraft, Neo."

"A modified date then."

She wondered if her cheeks were flushed again. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I go hit the showers—"  She laughed at his candor, but Neo continued, "Then, we get takeout from the mess hall, and we just stay in tonight. And talk, just the two of us."

And it just wasn't fair, Trinity thought, how fucking perfect he was. He'd been taken from the Matrix, told his entire life was a lie, and his concern still lay with her. On making her feel good and safe.

Swallowing, Trinity nodded. "I think that sounds perfect."

"Okay," he agreed, leaning forward to kiss her. "I'll be back in twenty."

"I'll be here," she promised, and Neo rewarded her with a heart-stopping grin. Oh.

He recalled, without a problem, where the towels were kept and grabbed one. He walked over to the drawer which contained her yarn and trinkets and stopped himself before he opened it. He glanced back to her. "Where would I find fresh clothes?"

"Morpheus had planned on putting you in the room next to his. There should be spare clothes in there."

"Thanks, love." Neo bent down and kissed her head before he left to head to the washroom.

She wondered, when the door had closed behind him, if he noticed the endearment.

Trinity rose to her feet. While Neo showered, she'd get their dinner ready so neither of them had to go back out. Keep things simple that way. Luckily, she thought, nearly everyone else would have already eaten so the mess wouldn't be too crowded.

She slipped down the hall. Sure enough, only Tank was present when she walked in.

"Coming to join me?" he asked.

"Just grabbing dinner for me and Neo. We're going to eat in our room."

Our room. It slipped out before she had even stopped to think about it.

For the thirteen years she had been on the Neb, it had been her room. Her private space, where she could and did go to get away from everyone else when the world seemed to be too much to manage. She spent more time in that room than in her apartment in Zion, which Trinity supposed was also their apartment.

Why was it so easy to make that transition from me to us?

Tank grinned at her. "Oh really? Quiet night in, just the two of you?"

She really hated how much she was blushing these days. But, a part of her, the giddy and excited part, shrugged a shoulder.

"He says it's a modified date. Since we're on the Neb and can't really go anywhere."

She half-expected the Operator to make a joke but instead he just shook his head. "That's freaking adorable."

"I know!" She found two mugs and started to prepare their teas, adding, "It's almost… unnerving."

Tank stood up, walking with his bowl to stand at the little counter next to her. "Which part? Being treated like a princess? Or the fact we finally found the One and he is already completely and utterly whipped by you?"

Her lips twitched. "Ooh, I'm going to have to go with both."

"Fair enough. And for the record, since I know you've been waiting with bated breath, I approve."

"Oh, do you?"

"Hundred and ten percent, yes. I know he has memories of you, in some obscure way, but I like that he's still making an effort. It's like, he's the One—the guy who's going to save Zion and the world. And he is still living and breathing to make you happy."

He was that, Trinity thought. She could see it on his face, the way he lit up when she came into view. The way he always moved, however casually, closer to her.

It was more than familiarity. He was familiar with everyone on the crew, but he made her feel so damn special.

"It sounds unbelievable when you say it like that," she said as she grabbed a tray and started to fill two bowls.

"So absurd that it has to be real."

With a smile, she picked up the tray. "See you tomorrow."

"As your friend, have fun. As the guy who bunks in the room next to you, please don't have too much fun."

Trinity rolled her eyes. "Good night, Tank."

"Bet it will be."

She transitioned the tray to one hand and shot him her middle finger over her shoulder as she went back to their room.

Ships had been designed for utility, not for comfort. For that reason, Trinity knew that there wasn't much she could do to brighten the room up.

That said, she unlocked the little table from where it was strapped to the wall and moved it so that it was next to the bed. She quickly found a spare blanket and set it across the table as a makeshift cloth, before setting their dinners side by side.

She was nervous. Actually fucking nervous, which seemed almost silly to her.

Trinity rarely got nervous in the Matrix. And while fear occasionally bubbled up when they met a sentinel on a search and destroy mission, it felt far more justifiable than this.

Nervous over dinner.

A date, at that.

She ran a hand through her hair and wondered if there was anything else, she could do to make the room look… nice. Nicer, at least. There were candles on the Neb, but they were supposed to be saved in the event of an emergency or power loss. This was neither, but she wondered if she could get away with taking just one…

She was saved from having to make a decision when the door opened. Neo slipped back inside, dressed in a fresh set of slacks and a blue sweater. He'd found one with minimal wear and tear. It was well-fitted. He looked really good.

She wondered if she should have changed but the thought quickly vanished from her mind as Neo grinned at her.

"Looks great."

Trin found herself smiling back. "Making do on the Neb." Spying a bottle in his hand, she asked, "Is that Dozer's homebrew?"

Neo nodded. "Stopped by his room on the way over. It's no bottle of wine but it'll do."

Smirking, Trin added, "Just go easy. A sip of that can knock Mouse on his ass."

"Don't worry. I have no intentions of getting drunk. I just thought it might help us both to relax a bit."

He closed the space between them, setting the bottle on the table. In their small room, it didn't take much.

He caught her chin in his hand and angled her face up. She expected him to kiss her, but he didn't. Instead, Neo just seemed to be soaking in her sight.

It was only a bit disconcerting, but she still shivered under his gaze.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Neo…"

He really shouldn't be allowed to say things like that, she thought. It wasn't fair, the way he could make a statement and just demolish every single wall she had spent a lifetime carefully constructing.

"I still can't believe you're real," he admitted.

"Very real," Trinity promised.

Finally, he bowed his head, pressing his lips to hers.

They were still so soft and not used to the coldness on the Neb. Warm and assured, his kiss made her a little weak in the knees. Again, she had to remind herself that while Neo was familiar to her, he knew her completely. He knew her body intimately.

And that was an intimidating thought.

With a peck to her lips, Neo broke the kiss. He stroked her cheek with his thumb before dropping his hand, reaching for hers. He led her over to the bed, carefully sliding in so as not to disturb the table she had set up.

He waited for her to sit first. Despite their earliest encounters, in which Neo had thought himself dreaming, he was proving to be quite the gentleman. Which fit in with everything she had seen from him prior to meeting him.

In the Matrix, Neo had been such a gentle creature. It had really thrown her for a loop. Usually, when Morpheus found an individual he believed to be the One, they were characterized by blind ambition or strength.

For a while, Morpheus had even thought she could be the One.

The Oracle had shut that down fast with her revelation. She hadn't been disappointed to not be the One. Truthfully, she was grateful not to have the burden of all that placed on her own shoulders but then the Oracle had hit her with the rest.

Entwined with the One, bound to the One.

A thought that had been so much more frightening before she met Neo.

The moment they started watching him, she knew he was different than the usual potentials Morpheus chose. After just one night on duty, she realized very quickly that she would have to either lie to herself or accept that they had found the One.

Still, nothing could have prepared her for the night in the club.

Her world had spun on its axis exponentially faster and she no longer knew what direction she was going in. And she could not bring herself to care.

Neo opened Dozer's homebrew and poured a hearty shot into each of their teas.

He handed her the first mug as he set down the bottle. Then lifted his own.

"To what's real," he toasted, and she raised her cup, echoing his sentiment. They clinked their mugs together. She took a large gulp, feeling her nerves building.

Because now he was here. In her room. He was sleeping in her bed. Tangling his life with hers until she was no longer sure which strings belonged to him and which were hers.

Neo, on the other hand, seemed to be sipping at his beverage. Probably for the best. He had no tolerance to the heavy stuff yet.

She set her mug back down and caught Neo's eyes.

It really wasn't fair that he was so handsome.

"So, what were you up to while I was being put through basic training?" Neo handed her a bowl.

Trinity rolled her eyes. "Basic training?"

"Apoc is a drill sergeant."

She felt herself grin in response. "I'll be sure to pass on the message."

"Oh, please don't. I like being able to move my limbs." He took his own bowl and dramatically demonstrated being able to lift his spoon. Trinity found herself laughing in response, still in awe of the man in front of her.

"I was running repairs most of the morning," she answered after swallowing a bite. "Then I had to do some paperwork. Respond to a communication from Commander Lock."

Neo barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "What did Deadbolt want?"

Her lips twitched at the nickname used on a man Neo technically hadn't actually met yet. "Yesterday, I sent in the new red pill paperwork, which is standard for whenever we unplug anyone. Lock wanted to know why we pulled someone of your age out of the Matrix."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Half-truths. Agents were after you, limited time to make a decision, and we assessed that it was better for your safety to take you than to leave you in the Matrix. I'm sure by the time I check the communications tomorrow he'll have sent another message but there's nothing he can do about it."

"Quite literally too late," Neo agreed. "I'm not sure how much of what I know actually translates into this world, but I'll give you fair warning: Lock does not like me."

Trinity found herself unable to stop smiling as they conversed. "Lock doesn't like anybody."

"Which is perfect, because you won't find anybody who likes Lock." Neo paused. "Maybe I shouldn't pass judgement until I actually meet him in the real world. I mean, I technically have no real reason to hold as much animosity as I do for him."

"Sounds sweet," Trinity said. "I give you an hour in Zion before you change your mind."

Neo shrugged. "For Niobe's sake, I'll give him a chance." Then he paused and sighed. "It has occurred to me that I technically haven't met Niobe, either."

"No."

And fuck, it was confusing for her because he talked about all these people like he knew them. He had memories that weren't real, both from the Matrix and from his subconscious and Trinity wasn't sure if one was more valid than the next.

"It sounds like you're remembering more," she commented.

"Some things are still hazy," Neo admitted. "But the dreams are becoming a little bit clearer. Everything is."

"You were on a large dose of painkillers while we were working on you. It might have kept you a bit groggy."

Neo nodded. "Maybe. But I also think I'm just remembering more. Before… so much of what I dreamed almost seemed to disappear when I was waking. The dreams with you were easy to recall because I had them so many times that they became more habit than dream, but the other ones… it's like, the more time I spend with the crew, the more I'm remembering."

"It's a lot to process."

Again, he nodded. "But let's not talk about that. Why don't you tell me about being unplugged?"

"You don't already know?"

"Bits and pieces," he admitted. "Still, I'd like to hear you tell it."

"It was shortly after I hacked the IRS…"

"Which, if I haven't told you, is incredibly hot."

She shot him a half-hearted glare. "I was fifteen."

"To be fair, I was the same age at the time."

"But you hadn't picked up hacking yet."

"True." Although he was interested in computers, he hadn't been able to afford his own until college. "Why the IRS? I mean, at fifteen you weren't paying taxes."

Trinity shrugged a shoulder and set down her mostly eaten dinner back on the table. She leaned back scooting back across the bed until she hit the wall. "Because no one had done it before. Because I hated the government. Because… I was fifteen and stupid?"

"Clearly not stupid." Neo set his own bowl down before scooting back to sit next to her, against the wall.

She smiled at that. "I was impulsive. And I didn't fully think through the consequences of my actions. I was a freshman in high school by day and a top-10 FBI's most wanted cyber-terrorist by night. It was… a strange time."

Neo smiled softly back, the fondness in his eyes nearly made her lose her breath.

"I bet."

She looked down, unable to handle his gaze. It made her light-headed. "I, uh, I was walking home from the library one day, when a car pulled up next to me. Agents, although I didn't know what that meant, at the time. They told me I was under arrest and to get into the car and I made a break for it.

"At that point, Morpheus had been monitoring me for a couple months. He was reluctant to take me out because I had a good relationship with my family. Typically, he tried to only take kids who wouldn't be missed or people with fewer social ties.

"He had been debating whether to take me for a while but once the Agents targeted me, he made a snap decision. He was already in my city; his crew was taking out another potential."

"Ghost." Neo filled in the blank.

"Yes. He separated from his crew and went after me. I, quite literally, ran into him. It all happened very fast. He told me he could show me what was wrong with the world. That he could tell me what the Matrix was, once and for all, but that it wouldn't be easy. I would lose my life in the process. That if I went with him, I could never go home."

She hesitated. It had been a long time since she truly allowed herself to think back to her life before the Matrix.

Morpheus had been right. It hadn't been easy to walk away from her family without so much as a goodbye. To abandon the life she had carefully constructed, even as a teenager.

But Trinity had craved answers. She had wanted, more than anything, to fill the hole in her chest that consumed her.

Knowing about the Matrix hadn't done that. If anything, it just made the world feel colder. It made sense, of course. She had her answers, had a better understanding for the world around her.

And then the Oracle had called.

Normally, under usual circumstances, going to see the Oracle was a choice. Some people wanted insight or answers beyond what Morpheus or Zion could provide for them. They wanted clarity or reason or something to help them navigate their new world.

Trinity had been skeptical of the very idea of an all-seeing Oracle.

When Morpheus had told them, Ghost had been eager to see her and learn more. And Trinity had, politely, declined.

Before Ghost and Morpheus could even jack back into the Matrix, they received a message from one of the Oracle's priestesses.

A brief note, acknowledging Trinity's disbelief and reluctance, but asking, nonetheless, for her attendance for tea.

Fucking tea.

And while she had still been nervous, still unsure, Morpheus had pushed her.

"It's a great honor for the Oracle to request one's presence," he had told her.

So, she went.

For tea. And cookies. And a conversation with a grandmotherly woman who successfully fucked her up in a matter of minutes.

The result of which, Trinity realized, was now sitting in front of her.

"You must have been frightened."

"Terrified," she admitted, before realizing that Neo wasn't talking about the Oracle, but about taking the red pill. She thought back to the moment where Morpheus had held a pill on either outstretched hand.

Neo's hand found its way to her thigh, squeezing gently in support.

"I—I've never regretted my choice. But it was hard to leave my family. And I didn't have time to fully process what it would mean before I took the pill."

"You were fifteen," he reminded her. "It's hard to understand anything at fifteen." Neo stopped, his eyes widening a fraction almost in surprise. Trinity inclined her head, unsure what was going on in his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Fifteen," he repeated.

"Yeah?"

Neo swallowed. "Was it summer?"

"Yes." She narrowed her eyes.

"That was about the time that the dreams started."

Her own eyes widen, her lips parting. "O-oh."

"I… is that possible? No, no, that can't be right."

"Given the circumstances, I'm not sure I can classify this as coincidence or synchronicity."

He was silent, looking down, like he was trying to process it all.

Welcome to the club.

She wondered if she should resist the urge to close the space between them, to allow them each the space to process it all.

Fuck it, she decided instead.

Trinity rolled to her knees, following through before she could change her mind. She leaned forward, reaching for his face, angling his head up to kiss him.

She still didn't know what it all meant but she was certain that she felt more at home in his arms than she ever had in the Matrix, the Neb, or even Zion.

Neo's hand wound its way into her hair, cupping her head, as his other arm circled her. He pulled her closer and she found herself climbing onto his lap. He hummed his approval, the vibration of his lips making her nearly dizzy.

And it's like, all at once, the hole inside of her chest was gone.

"Trin…" he said her name in a desperate voice, kissing her again until they were both breathless.

He had been dreaming about her for fifteen years. It had never occurred to him that his dreams could be based in reality. That Trinity, his Trinity, was real.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his.

"I'm so afraid," Neo whispered, "that every time I open my eyes, you're going to be gone. That this is just an elaborate dream or maybe I got hit by a car on my way home from work and this is just a coma."

"I'm here," she told him, squeezing harder. "You're awake and this is real."

"Can I… can I just hold you for a while? While we talk?"

She nodded, her lips twitching. Trinity slipped to the side so that she was sitting across his lap rather than straddling him. Neo rewrapped his arms around her as she settled, resting her head on his shoulder.

She placed a hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was strangely comforting "Tell me about when they started."

He slipped a hand under her shirt, feeling her skin. It wasn't sexual, she knew. It was meant to ground him the same way her hand over his heart was helping her remain steady.

"The first dream I remember was the club where we met. And I remember it feeling so surreal. I didn't understand half of the words I was saying but I remember you. You warned me that people were after me and told me that there were answers out there."

"You must have been confused."

Thinking back, he hadn't been confused. At fifteen, his first reaction to dreaming of a beautiful woman pressing against his body was to wake up with a physical reaction, which he had immediately taken care of.

He probably shouldn't comment on that.

"At first, I thought it was just a random dream. Collection of my subconscious and all that. But I kept having different dreams. Some in the Matrix, the others on the Neb, or in Zion. It was all too… detailed.

"I used to take the bus to one of the local colleges in high school to be able to use their computer. I'd try to find things about you, but after the IRS, it was like you were wiped from the map.

"But I found leads on the Matrix. Nothing I could access, but ghosts and whispers pointing me in the right direction."

Toward you.

His hand rubbed circles on her back as he continued. "It was too chaotic to make sense but there were too many coincidences to let it go. After a while, I thought I was going crazy."

She couldn't blame him. She'd think the same thing if their position was reversed.

"You really thought you were dreaming that night in the club."

Neo nodded. "I'd had that dream so many times before. It felt real, but it always felt real, you know? Like I was going through the motions of the dream, waiting to find out which version I was in for."

"Hence, propositioning me?" she teased.

Neo half-laughed, half-sighed. "Yeah, I did that, didn't I? I'm really sorry about that. I can't imagine how confusing that must have been for you."

"It was… unexpected to say the least. We weren't going in with the plan to unplug you that day."

"I'm glad you did."

"Me too." She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, snuggling into his embrace. "Even if I did catch a lot of shit for it."

"Did you?" He sounded almost amused.

"Are you kidding? I kissed you while you were still plugged into the Matrix."

"Twice."

She lifted her head off his shoulder to shoot him a look.

"Uh-huh. Even fucking Morpheus got in on teasing me."

Neo grinned all the more. "Yeah, well, I like it when you're flustered. And flushed." His hand cupped her cheek and, right on cue, felt her face heat up.

"You do seem to have that effect on me."

"And this is while I'm trying to be good." He leaned forward, bringing his cheek to hers to whisper in her ear. "Just imagine what it'll be like when I start to misbehave."

The teasing words sent a wave of warmth through her body faster and harder than Dozer's homebrew ever had. Oh, he should not be allowed to say things like that, she thought. And yet… a part of her was dying to know what he was like when he wasn't focused on being good.

She appreciated that he had slowed down, that he was truly trying to give up some of his control with what he knew by letting Trinity take control of the speed. But fuck…

The things he knew.

Part of her wanted to know it all and part of her wanted time to just stop so she could just lay down in his arms and not have to think about the rest. To ignore, just for a little while, that Neo was the One and that he was meant for great things. That the moment they left the safety of their bedroom, he would be forced to become a hero.

Neo kissed her cheek before he leaned back against the wall.

She didn't want to think about his mission or the expectations that were already starting to pile up on his shoulders. Instead, she wanted to just enjoy the night. His presence.

"Tell me about your life in the Matrix," she said.

And maybe, for a little while, they could leave the rest of the world behind.

He told her of his life. Of the job he hated and his nighttime activities. How he had to force himself not to spend every spare moment trying to sleep, to get back to her.

And, in turn, she told him about monitoring him. About sitting down at the computer, annoyed, at the start of her shift, only to leave at the end convinced that they had found him.

They talked until the ship went into its overnight stasis and the lights around them dimmed.

Trin caressed his face. "You look exhausted."

He shrugged it off. "I'm fine."

"You spent hours exerting yourself physically and mentally. Why don't you sleep?"

"Haven't I done enough of that?"

She read between his words, though she wasn't sure how she knew to. "I'll be here when you wake."

"I"—he hesitated—"can I stay?"

Her heart ached. It was his room, too. At least in his head, but he was still trying to give her space and control and everything else she might need to adjust and she adored him all the more for it.

She nodded and admitted, "I'd prefer it if you did."

Neo sighed, almost in relief.

She got up to move the table back to the wall, just in case any late-night sentinel activity forced the ship to jolt. Neo tugged back the covers as she did, climbing under and opening his arm for her to join him.

She slipped under, face to face, so she could see him. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him.

"Good night, Trin."

[awhiskeyriver]

PSST AMELIA (i have hit the level of comfort where i feel i can scream at you, oop) TELL ME UR BETTY THOUGHTS.... also me too, i really wanna write stories based of Taylor's songs all the time. there's a whole subset of tumblr ask game called like, taylor universes, where we personify songs and on God it's my favorite (i wish i had more swifties in my ranks or i'd host one)

LOL, you can always scream at me! Oh man, that sounds seriously so fun! I would love to personify one of her (or all of her, lol) songs and turn them into stories. She has such a vivid way of writing music it begs to be seen in story form, lol.

Okay so....you may regret asking me for my Folklore thoughts, LOL. This is long and it might make absolutely no sense to anyone other than me but I hope that’s not the case!

Obviously **I know this isn’t true and wasn’t Taylor’s point at all** I’m just a writer and things spin out of control in my head and...yeah...basically this is how I’ve managed to link (almost) all of the songs in Folklore together into one story line of James/Betty/August.

The story begins with in the song Betty, towards the end of Junior year, at the prom.

//I know where it all went wrong, your favorite song was playing from the far side of the gym. I was nowhere to be found, I hate the crowds, you know that. Plus, I saw you dance with him.//

I think James has anxiety of some sort [more to come on that later] and in my mind, Betty is more charismatic, maybe even casually popular not in the core group of popular girls but very well-liked and known around the school. Editor of the school paper, ran for student president, etc. Meanwhile James is more low-key, out of the limelight, and the idea of being in such a large crowd dancing gave him anxiety which is why he said no. Seeing her dancing with someone else (even innocently), made him feel worse about himself and his insecurities as well as a little mad at her for not standing with him, but choosing to go dance with friends [‘him’] instead. 

So, he left the dance early [walking home on broken cobblestones] when August sees him [when she pulled up like a figment of my worst intention. She said, James get in let’s drive. Those days turned into nights. Slept next to her but I dreamt of you all summer long.]

Personally, I think James only officially cheated on Betty once. The night of the dance with August. August is a more overtly popular; more obvious beauty that is noticed by many boys, maybe a cheerleader, etc. Many people think this popularity instantly equates with happiness, but she’s not happy, actually suffers from self esteem issues and the pressure to conform [Mirrorball: I can change everything about me to fit in]. But James doesn’t ‘oogle’ her or treat her the way typical guys she dates or fucks do, so she’s attracted to him. They kind of bring out this excitement in each other that Betty and the other guys in August’s life don’t. [Mirrorball: I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight. I’ll get you out on the floor- August can pull James out of his shell in ways that Betty can’t]. This is maybe a more “obvious” song link to make, but also how in Mirrorball it’s talked about “spinning in my highest heels love, shining just for you.” And in Cardigan, when Betty is describing August “high heels on cobblestones.” 

ANYWAYS. James feels mad guilty about what happened between August and him, swears her to secrecy, but the weight of the secret weighs on him. At the end of the year, he tells Betty he thinks they should take a break over the summer, so they do. August and James continue to talk, first through platforms like Instagram, commenting on a photo or story, then it turns into constant talking, to texting, to hanging out and inevitably having more sex. For James, it’s a vice of sorts. He feels guilty, he wants to forget that feeling meanwhile August is starting to develop Feelings™. [entire song of August, obviously, but lines like “you were never mine.// your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it. ] To her, James is also developing feelings for her and wants to be with her. [I remember thinking I had you. Wanting was enough, for me it was enough.] But as the summer starts to end, things become more squirrely between the two of them, and the feeling of being James’ side piece starts to sink in more, and the more she begins to lose him, the more desperate she is to hold onto him. [August: cancel plans just in case you call and say meet me behind the mall. Illicit Affairs: Leave the perfume on the shelf that you picked out just for him so you leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist.// A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.// what started in beautiful rooms ends in meeting in parking lots.]

It comes to a head at the end of (the month of) August, as summer is ending and the new school year is approaching when James tells August he wants to get back together with Betty and what happened between them meant nothing to him. [Betty: Slept next to her but I dreamt of you all summer long.] August is rightfully hurt, embarrassed and angry [Illicit Affairs: Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. You showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else. Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else.// And you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself a million little times. Peace: All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret. Mirrorball: When I break it’s in a million pieces.]

So, senior year begins. Betty and James gets back together. August goes back to the way she was previous to her summer with James, but truly she is broken. Can’t even look at him. The guilt and stress of August is still eating at James, but he’s trying to forge ahead with Betty and the two of them grow stronger and closer throughout the first part of the school year. August’s friend, Inez, obviously notices her downfall, but August continues to allude to “the guy she met over the summer” without saying names. One drunken night, she slips and says James, and Inez being the gossip she is is like w h a t. [Peace: Your integrity makes me seem small.// I talk with shit with my friends, it’s like I’m wasting your honor.// And you know that I’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild, give you a child.// Give you my sunshine, give you my best. But the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me.] August forgets about the conversation [she was drunk], but Inez doesn’t and can’t help herself but go to Betty and tell the rumor she heard about James fucking August. Betty, being a newspaper editor, doesn’t believe her without gathering up facts. But as she’s piecing things together, Inez’s story begins to make sense. She confronts James about it, who reluctantly admits to everything.

Betty, of course is devastated and heartbroken. The boy she trusted the most, her first love, wasn’t at all who she thought he was. [Cardigan: you drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.] And the fact that he didn’t just come clean and tell her after the first time, but continued to cover it up (and keep seeing August) is unforgivable. [Cardigan: tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy--Betty is ready to grow up, think about college, think about life, meanwhile James is clinging to the excuse that he is ‘only seventeen’ [(Betty) Would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing?], refusing to grow up and own his mistakes. 

Betty breaks things off with James. James hates August thinking she did it on purpose. Betty hates them both. August kind of does too.

[August- Mad Woman: Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy and when you say I get angry, I get more angry.]

[Betty- Cardigan: A friend to all is a friend to none, chase two girls lose the one.//When you are young they assume you know nothing.] 

After months of being broken up, James is still not over Betty and tries one last time to win her back at her graduation party before she leaves for college. [Betty, I’m here on your doorstep and I planned it out for weeks now but it’s finally sinking in. Betty right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when I see your face again. The only thing I want to do is make it up to you. So I showed up at your party]. The end of the song, where he’s talking about kissing in her car again, etc is him building their makeup up in his mind, psyching himself up for confronting her because he thinks it will all pay off.

Betty is shocked to see him, as is everyone else at the party, they’d become something of a spectacle, she brings him outside in the garden to talk in privacy without everyone interjecting or staring. Jame’s apology comes in ‘This is me trying’ where he’s trying to explain his actions more logically than placing blame on everyone and everything else, from Betty. [I don’t quite know what to say, but I’m here in your doorway. // They told me all of my cages were mental (the fact that he has anxiety, etc) so I got wasted like all my potential//pouring my heart out to a stranger, but I didn’t pour the whiskey (his and August’s first encounter/cheating incident after Prom). But “this is him trying, at least he’s trying...it’s hard to be at a party when [he] feels like an open wound” and quite honestly, “it’s hard [for him] to be anything these days when all [he] wants is [Betty]. It’s a great apology, he wears his heart on his sleeve, but Betty doesn’t want to fix things between him, she wants to move on. It was too difficult for her to get over him once, she can’t open herself up to trusting him again. [Cardigan: I knew you’d linger like a tattooed kiss, I knew you’d haunt all of my what ifs.// I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired, and you’d be standing in my front porch light.] 

Betty leaves for college.

A few years away in college has caused some healing for Betty and some insight into life outside of her small town and high school boyfriend [The One: If you never bleed you’re never going to grow, but it’s alright now]. But when she’s talking with her mom and something comes up about James, thoughts and feeling she hasn’t felt in years come racing back. She can’t help but wonder how things might’ve turned out if things didn’t end how they did because as much as she hates to admit it, she’ll always love James in some way. [We were something, don’t you think so?// if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.// it would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the one.// I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different (if he hadn’t slept with August) would everything be different today?.// You know the greatest films of all time were never made.] [My Tears Ricochet: And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home. And you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones.] 

***Now, things get a little more dicey here not as tight, lol but bear with me***

Betty comes home after graduation from college and runs into James. They’re cordial and nice and when James asks if they can get dinner and catch up, Betty agrees. They have a good evening, reconnect a little, but when they go riding and drive to some familiar places from their childhood, past hard conversations re-arise. It brings a lot of unwelcomed emotions back up in Betty, and she realizes it’s harder than she thought it would be to forgive James. [The One: the greatest films of all time were never made. Exile: I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.] Meanwhile, James just wants to forgive and forget the past, after all, they were kids, only seventeen. His hurt comes from the fact that after he tried to patch things up after graduation, not only did Betty dismiss him and leave, but she never reached out or spoke to him again. [Exile: It took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it. Holding all this love out here in the hall.] He came to the front porch/door to try and fix things with her, and she “left out the side door.” 

Betty [My Tears Ricochet: Even on my worst day, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me? Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you, til my dying day. // And I still talk to you (while I’m screaming at the sky) and when you can’t sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)// Hoax: My twisted knife, my sleepless night, my winless fight this has frozen my ground.] 

Hoax is where things come to a head with Betty and James. [Stood on the cliffside screaming, “Give me a reason. Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in. // You knew it still hurts underneath my scars, from when they pulled me apart. But what you did was just dark.]

Mad Woman continues as August finds out that Betty and James get back together, and cannot get over it. She never got over James either. Only her sadness turns to anger. [Now I breathe flames each time I talk. // They say “move on” but you know I won’t.// It’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.] 

Invisible String comes when Betty and James are in a stable, happy place in their relationship again. Possibly engaged for marriage. [Time, mystical time, cutting me open then healing me fine.// Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you.// Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.]

And, I like to think that August did eventually move on and found someone who appreciates her and truly loves her, isn’t just using her for revenge, or because she’s hot, or because they’re trying to forget their own problems. But someone who actually values her for herself. (Invisible String: Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart. Now I send their babies presents.)

AGAIN, this is obviously just my own theory/fun. Not meant to be taken seriously. Hope you enjoyed!

[shardminds]

I picture your hands on me.

“First, I want you to drive us somewhere nice and quiet." "Then I want you to come back here and fuck my brains out.”

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones Rating: E WC: 3.8K

Here’s some Captain Swan car sex for your troubles.

Also available on AO3

Emma Swan doesn’t get drunk. That’s what she tells herself, all the while giggling and stumbling from the toilet stall into the arms of an equally intoxicated and equally giddy Mary Margaret. In fairness, she hadn’t had the opportunity to get drunk in a while. Nights these days were, more often than not, filled with street patrols and paperwork. Being a cop had many perks but the night shifts were not one of them. 

She couldn’t wear this dress or these boots out on the job anyway. The black faux leather was tight, barely reaching her mid-thigh and the stiletto boots cut off just above the knee. Definitely not regulation uniform. 

Perps would most likely hand themselves over to her if she did wear this on patrol, though. That’s one way to boost her numbers.

When David had initially asked if she wanted to take his wife out for a drink, she thought he’d been joking… evidently not. He had to buckle down on one of his larger cases and it just happened to line up with Emma’s night off. He’d offered to pay her back in bear claws from Granny’s when they were next on duty together and that had sold her. Calories don’t count if someone else buys them for you, right? David had, however, forgotten to mention his wife’s wild side that rears it’s boisterous head whenever liquor is involved. 

Tequila is her drink of choice. No chaser. No salt and lime. Just straight up tequila. Emma hadn’t even downed her second by the time the petite brunette was polishing off her fifth with a belch that would’ve had Leeroy blushing. It all went downhill from there. 

Mary Margaret yanks her out of the restroom, getting a little handsy in the process, and drags them to the less crowded hallway. Emma didn’t even get the chance to wash her hands. She’s chattering on about something or other but Emma can’t focus. Her skin is softly buzzing, the whole world around her a pleasant hum.

Emma Swan doesn’t get drunk, but when she does, it feels fantastic.

Did she have hand sanitizer in her clutch? It seems like a pretty important thing that everyone should carry in case of emergency, right? Especially on those days when your partner’s wife drags you away from the restroom before you’ve been able to take care of your own personal hygiene. It’s not like she’d peed all over her hands or anything. It’s just better to be safe than sorry. A quick rifle through her purse proved fruitless but at least it helped her regain focus… right at the end of her friend’s story. If they weren’t friends before tonight, they definitely were now.

“-and that’s how David got the scar but if you tell him I told you he’ll be so mad, Emma! Soooo so mad!” 

“About what?” It escapes before she can stop it and Mary Margaret just laughs at her. 

“Exactly!” She squeals, wiping away tears of laughter Emma hadn’t noticed before throwing an arm around her friend’s waist and leaning into her side, guiding them to the bar. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

The bartender didn’t even ask what they were having. Simply winking in their direction before setting down two shots and a couple of fingers of rum. Mary Margaret pays with a flourish of David’s credit card, index finger pressed to her lips in a shhh gesture. 

Before she can even think of all the ways David is going to kill her, Emma’s phone chimes. She tries to fight back the smile that comes along with Killian’s name flashing up on her screen, but she lost that battle long ago. They’ve been dating for over a year and he still manages to make her heart involuntarily flutter with every text. No one else makes her heart soften as he does. It had taken time, patience and a whole lot of nudging from David and Ruby for them to even get together in the first place and yet, Emma, with her seemingly endless walls, and Killian, with a metric shitload of his own baggage, managed to make it work. 

She loves him. Wholly. It had taken her forever to admit it but, between his soft kisses and even gentler touches, she’d whispered it against his skin. More a sigh than a declaration, but a promise nonetheless. 

Killian: running late, my love

Killian: nodded off marking… again 

Killian: be there in 5, does MM need a lift? 

He’s so good to her. To all of them. He’d agreed to pick her up at midnight, making a joke about pumpkins as he’d kissed her goodbye earlier. It’s almost half-past now but she can’t bring herself to be mad. She loves him. Like really, really loves him. It’s scary and exciting and if it had been anyone else she’d have run away by now but it’s him and that makes it all okay. All the tension she didn’t know she was holding evaporates away upon reading his texts. She throws back her drink in one gulp and starts typing.

Emma: i love u.  i will ass

Emma: ask

Emma: fuck

Emma: love u

Killian: haha had one too many, swan?

Killian: i’ll bring you some water x

She didn’t always understand the x’s he sometimes added to the end of his texts. He’d explained it to her once but the patterns his fingers had been tracing across the soft skin of her belly had been a far more pressing focus at the time. 

“It’s meant to be a kiss, love. It’s a common courtesy back home.” He’d said, placing a kiss of his own to the furrow in her brow. The furrow only deepened, which made him smile.

“But… why?” She snuggled closer to his chest, the coarse hair there ticking at her bare skin. Post-coital conversations about British text etiquette were just one of the many reasons she’d agreed to move in with him.

Regardless of her level of understanding, the addition brings a warm flush to her cheeks.

Mary Margaret is still at the bar, no longer drinking (thank god) but, if the way her index finger is pressed menacingly against the chest of a man almost twice her size is anything to go by, Emma’s willing to bet she was about to get herself in even more trouble. 

Behind her, there’s a familiar exasperated sigh. 

“I think it’s quittin’ time for us, Ems.” David yawned, patting her shoulder as he did. He was still in his uniform which must have scared the shit out of the bouncers on his way in. She didn’t mean to laugh but the thought had her chuckling. His case mustn’t have gone very well. His smile is soft and small, not blinding like it usually is. She’s about to ask him about it when a scream rips out ahead of them.

“DAVID!”

The thump as Mary Margaret collides with her husband’s chest knocks the air straight out of him in a dull oof. Without thinking, Emma snaps a picture and hits send.

Emma: mm has a ride

Emma: i’ll take one if u r offering tho ;)

They’re both still laughing, breathless, in each other’s arms before Emma gets pulled into the mix. David thanks her for keeping an eye on his wife with a strong hug while Mary Margaret attaches to her side like a barnacle and thanks her with slurred speech for celebrating her promotion together.

Emma hadn’t even known they’d been celebrating. That’s tequila for you.

“I better get this one home. Thanks again, Ems.”  David smiles her way before looking down to his tiny and drunken spouse who had the widest grin she’d ever seen, pure adoration in her eyes. She happily grips the hand David offers her, still beaming as they walk.

Emma knows that look. She’s had that look before. 

Love drunk (and maybe a bit of real drunk).

“I’ll follow you out.” She adds, falling into step with their rhythm. “My ride will be here soon anyway.”

“I love Killian, Emma. He’s so sweet! And he bakes! David doesn’t bake.” The outburst is followed by a hiccup and a giggle and a scoff from her husband. 

“Gee, why don’t you marry him then?” There’s no malice in David’s comment at all, how could there be? These two have been together since the dawn of time, by Storybrooke standards, at least. Mary Margaret barks out a laugh, using the arm that isn’t intertwined with David’s to punch him softly in the ribs.

“I married you, Stupid. You can’t marry two people. You’re dumb.” 

The rest of the walk to the exit is in relative silence, only the occasional chirp from their drunkest disciple on the way down the stairs of The Rabbit Hole. The crisp autumn air that meets them outside knocks Emma back a little, she hadn’t expected it to be so cold and, in a lapse of better judgement, had not brought a jacket. It doesn’t matter though. She’d already seen the familiar black jeep before her phone buzzed in her hand.

Killian: i see you x

Bidding goodbye to her two companions, Emma finds herself skipping over to Killian’s truck. She can’t help herself. The thought of him sat there waiting for her in all his black leather jacket-y goodness spurs her forward. Maybe she can convince him out of it… maybe– Fuck. She’s drunk but she wants him. Needs him.

Climbing into the jeep and immediately going in for the kill, in hindsight, probably wasn’t one of her finest ideas. Especially considering the accidental punch to the boob it earnt her. The bottle of water he’d promised, falling to the centre console between them. Clearly he’d not anticipated the haste of her advance. 

It’s a good job he’s cute.

“I’m sorry, love!” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners and lips pulling into a toothy smile. “I didn’t expect you to come at me with such unbridled force.” 

“Hello to you too.” Grumbling, she tries to massage some of the pain in her chest away but the ache is already there. Not the ache she wanted either. Killian’s hand finds her jaw and, despite her initial attempt at stubborn reluctance, his fingertips have her melting into his kiss. He’s overly gentle, just a chaste press of his lips against hers in apology. 

“I’ll kiss it better once we’re home, Swan. Don’t you worry about that.”

Feeling them against her lips, his words light a fire deep in her. The slow burn she’s been tending since she left their apartment earlier now seems an all-consuming need. She kisses him again, harder and deeper, a calculated move on her part, knowing he’ll take the bait and follow suit. 

The growl it pulls from him is borderline feral and Emma can feel it shoot straight to her core. Fuck, he’s such a good kisser. Every slant of his mouth over hers, every slip of his tongue, has her breathless and needy, wanting to only ever be further consumed. He always knows exactly how she needs it with very little prompting, reading her body language better than she herself could, sliding his free hand up her bare thigh until it slipped beneath the hem of her dress.

She can’t wait, she wants him now. 

“Fuck going home.” She sighs, letting him pull away only slightly so they can lean their foreheads together, his hand still continuing its path beneath her skirt. 

“What do you mean, love?” He knows exactly what she means. He always does. The smirk in his voice coats his words like syrup, sickly sweet and so wonderful. 

Pushing him away is torture, but worth it to hear his reaction as Emma crawls into the backseat. Arse in the air as she squeezes between the front seats and into the back. The firm smack to her behind has her fumbling through the gap, catching her moan as she tries to get her bearings. She’s not ashamed of it. It’s well-known that she loves a good spanking. Red palm prints all over her ass and thighs the next day are the best kind of trophies. Ones she’s proud to wear for him and him only. She’s not even ashamed at how almost uncomfortably wet she is just from thinking about it, thinking about him thick and heavy inside her, encouragement coming in the form of firm slaps.

If he wants a tease, she’ll give him a tease.

Turning to face him, she slips into the middle seat. Shimmying her dark panties she’d chosen earlier that evening down her legs with minimal effort. Killian’s eyes follow the path they take and, when they come to settle at her ankles, she offers him the scrap of fabric with the heel of her boot.

He groans when his fingers come to contact with damp lace, the faint squish as he rolls the fabric between his thumb and index finger is almost too much. The way he reaches for her is pure instinct, she can tell how her actions are affecting him by the way his eyes are half-lidded and all traces of smiles and smirks from earlier are gone. She presses her boot to his shoulder, forcing him to keep his distance and trusting him to do so before removing it. The sharp point of her stiletto catches on his collarbone on its descent, causing him to hiss. 

“First, I want you to drive us somewhere nice and quiet.” Settling down further, her legs part, faux leather peeling back from her thighs as they do, until it’s plainly visible how much she wants this. Her unfathomable confidence is definitely dutch in its origin but she can’t help herself, warm flames of arousal threatening to take over. It’s delicious and agony all at once. “Then I want you to come back here and fuck my brains out.”

Seeing his eyes slip closed at her words sends a heady wave of something straight through her. Car Sex: 1, Killian: 0

“As you wish, Swan.” His voice is deep and raspy, so very clearly fucked and Emma loves it. She loves him. Every part of him. From the way his hair always looks like he’s just woken up, no matter what time of day it is or the way his shoulders tense as he turns away from her now to focus on the road ahead, pulling off from the street with white knuckles clutching the steering wheel. Most of all, she loves knowing that he’ll give her what she wants, over and over again, rough and hard.

To everyone else, Killian is well mannered and reserved. The mix of ex-naval captain, local history teacher and baked goods connoisseur tending to subconsciously command the respect of those in his presence. 

To Emma, he is so much more. He’s soft in ways she’d never had a partner to be before, so open and forthcoming with his adoration of her while still allowing her space to grow into the person she’s always wanted to be. He’s sarcastic to a fault but, then again, so is she. He’s so unapologetically passionate about the things he loves, which usually results in them binging TV shows together until the early hours of the morning on a school night and falling asleep tangled together on the couch.  

He’s everything she never knew she needed and he’s changed her for good.

Oh, and he’s also an incredibly good shag. His word, not hers. When he says it, it sounds filthy, whispered against her body in a way that brings her out in goosebumps every time. When she says it, it sounds… not like that. 

She can’t wait much longer, heat throbbing between her legs at the thought of him. She hadn’t even realised until the slow drag of her fingers through slick folds and across her clit caused a moan to erupt from her throat, that she’d been touching herself this whole time. 

Glancing up to the rearview mirror, she caught lust darkened eyes staring back.

Fuck.

Without thinking, she brings the fingers to her mouth. Salt and lust thick on her tongue. It’s a sharp sweet taste and Killian always waxes poetic about it; telling her how damn edible her cunt is, how he loves the taste she leaves on his tongue, how he loves making her taste herself from his lips. He’s always been able to make her fall to pieces. 

Daring to maintain eye contact, she sucks them between her lips.

He fucking moans at that. Deep. Guttural. Emma can feel it in her chest and, before she can even comprehend what’s going on, he pulls the jeep up to a halt. They’re parked somewhere she doesn’t recognise, tucked between two buildings shrouded in the dark, and she has no time to worry about anything else because Killian is out of the driver’s seat and crawling into the back through the passenger door. 

He had been wearing his leather jacket before and she absentmindedly wonders where it’s gone before her brain short circuits with the smash of his lips against hers. It’s wild and rushed and the weight of him crushing her into the seat below has whines slipping out between their kisses.

“That was dangerous.” He purrs, moving his mouth across her cheek, down to her jaw, her neck. Nipping where his teeth graze and sucking soft marks into her flesh. Looks like it’s high necked sweaters for the rest of the week. “What did I do to earn that delicious torture?”

Emma hums at his ministrations, warm buzz settling through her at his touch. Better, more electric than the subtle tingle of intoxication from earlier. This woke up every nerve in her body, slowly, bringing them alive and with wisps of an earth-shattering orgasm building deep down already. “The tit punch wasn’t totally appreciated if we’re being candid.”

“Candid’s not the word, love.” His lips leave her neck, leaning up to view his masterpiece and very clearly satisfied with the mess he’s made and his smirk pushes her over the edge. She reaches for his hips, fumbling around for the zipper on his jeans. He joins in, working together to free the erection she’d been hoping for. Killian was never one to disappoint her in that department. “This is downright indecent.”

“Just shut up and fuck me.” 

She throws one booted leg around his hip pulls him closer until he nudges against her centre. 

There’s no preamble. No disclaimer. Sex for them is like coming home, a practised rhythm they’ve had down for what seems like aeons. As if they’d been destined for each other before they ever met. It’s perfect. Always is. He’s as thick and full as she’d been hoping, stretching her in the most delectable way and it drives her mad when he drags out slowly, angling himself in a way that has the head of his cock catching on that rough spot he usually finds only with his fingers. Clawing at his biceps as he fucks torturously slowly into her seems like the only option at this point. 

“Killia– fuck! Harder.” Is the only thing she can say. All other thoughts being variations of Fuck, Yes and Please.

He burrows his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and she can feel the smirk on his lips searing into her skin. The whimper has barely left her lips before it’s cut off with a moan as he hammers into her. While one hand holds himself up, the other shoves her dress up higher around her waist before snaking down across her stomach, through the smattering of hair at the apex of her thighs and further, finally coming to a halt just shy of her clit. 

She’s grateful Killian had been able to find somewhere secluded for them to undertake their activity because, had they been in the centre of Storybrooke, people in a three-block radius would definitely have been able to hear the scream that rips out of her with his touch, back arching off the seat as he teases her clit with his fingers.

“First, you’re going to come.” His voice is way calmer than it should be. Deep and ragged but calm all the same. Emma doubts she could even string a sentence together with the barrage of pleasure he’s putting her through. Not that she’s complaining. The look on his face as she flutters around him more than makes up for the fact that he’s still got full use of his speech, even if he is using it to spew filth. “Then, I want to fill you up– fuck, I’ve been thinking about this dress all night, Emma. Do you know what you do to me?”

How can she even respond to that? He continues to fuck her deeper, laving kisses across her collar bones. Adjusting the angle, the pressure, the speed to keep her always on her toes. Bringing her almost to the edge and then dragging her back. She wants to be mad about it but she can’t bring herself to feel anything other than pleasure coiling low in her belly. Killian knows her too well. He knows what she likes, how she wants to be fucked and how to take care of her after. He knows she hates being teased but he also knows that she comes so much harder when she’s had to work for it. 

As she said, he knows her too well.

“I’m close.” She sobs, arms thrown around his neck. Her call spurs him on, fucking into her faster and deeper while he strokes relentlessly at her clit with his thumb. It’s only a few seconds before a tsunami of an orgasm washes over her in full force, wave after wave of pleasure settling over as she’s fucked through it. Gentler now than before. She can’t hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears but she doesn’t miss the telltale grunts of her name as Killian follows shortly after with a few staccato pumps of his hips. True to his word, he comes deep inside her. The feeling of being so full warming her from the inside out. 

He collapses against her chest with a huff and she laughs, not able to resist running her hands through his hair. She loves him. From his grunty sex noises to the way he can’t seem to hold himself up once he’s spent. She loves all of him.

“Brainless yet, love?” He mumbles against his gifts from earlier. There’s a dull throb as he kisses one of the hickeys and Emma hums, wrapping him in her embrace. She doesn’t want to move, despite how awkwardly they’re tangled together and Killian growing soft inside her. If David catches them on his patrol in the morning, they’re screwed. Well, she is. He’d hold that over her for eternity. 

Pulling him tighter, she sighs. 

“Completely.” 

She’d have to ask Mary Margaret about that scar story again, for blackmail purposes.

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary- Chapter Six

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: My notes from my chapter outline for this literally just said ‘Bakugou and friends get drunk and talk.’ So needless to say, I didn’t really know what I was gonna do with this chapter, and it ended up being my fave so far. So I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D

******************************

Raucous laughter bounced off the room’s walls, filling the space with the sound of drunken mirth as Katsuki felt a small hand punch him feebly in the arm.

“How is that even four sheets to the wind, you still look so angry?” Mina asks, her strange gold eye sparkling as her lips pull wide into a shit eating grin. It matches the same shit she seems to be talking now as Katsuki grumbles lowly.

If he’d known that by this time, he’d be the brunt of all his friends’ drunken tirades, he would have turned down the damn invite.

Or, at the very least, he would have ordered something stronger than beer.

A wet snort pulls his attention back down from his thoughts as he sees Mina’s better half and constant shadow splutter into his own pint.

“What does that even mean?” Kirishima laughs high and bright, almost as bright as the drunk flush that turns his cheeks a shade that matches his hair. Supposedly Katsuki’s best friend, Kirishima was a certified traitor whenever his long time crush came around.

That’s fine. He’ll make sure to remember this for the next time they’re hanging out alone.

Katsuki can already imagine how good it will feel when he reminds him of the way he’d tripped over himself when he’d seen Mina walk up to the bar in her teal romper and tan booties.

Take that, stupid Shitty Hair.

“It means our Bakugou is drunk!” Inasa booms, raising his glass almost as if in toast toward the  ceiling before knocking it back. The impossibly tall man leans back with it, wobbling for just a moment before finding the momentum to come back upright with a large grin.

“Who asked you anyway, ya damn extra,” Katuski growls, reaching forward for his own pint.

Sure, he doesn’t quite remember which number this was, but his vision wasn’t exactly swimming yet, which means that he’s just fine. Beer splashes of the sides of his glass and wets the table’s surface, leaving an accusatory puddle as he takes a big swing, ignoring the chorus of laughter around him.

“So, like, what’s the story morning glory?” Camie asks, placing both elbows on the table and propping her head on her hands. Quickly shaking her dusty blonde hair out of her face, she leans toward her cocktail, grabbing its straw between her teeth and sipping as she eyes him expectantly.

Inwardly, Katsuki curses the day he’d met Baldie and Blondie in those damned remedial classes. It had been almost a decade, and he still didn’t understand how anyone could need remediation for being an imaginary friend.

“What’s the story with your face,” Katuski huffs in retort, sinking down into the plastic embrace of the booth. His shoulders hunch up around his ears, hiding the way they undoubtedly burn pink with the heat of the beer sloshing in his gut. No one need to know about that, though.

“I think that’s what she’s asking you,” Todoroki chimes in, tone flat as always before he takes a calm sip of his whiskey. The most calm of them on a normal day, the pink dusting his cheeks was at least some kind of tell from his level of inebriation.

God damn Peppermint Head was just so damn boring that even drunk her was stoic.

“And I’m telling you, it’s none of your fucking business,” Katsuki snarls, ignoring how soft and pliant his words sound.

“Aw, c’mon, Bakubro, don’t be like that!” Kirishima slurs loudly, pushing himself over Mina’s lap to look at him with his alcohol brightened gaze. “We’re your friends!”

The exclamation causes Katsuki to roll his eyes as he mumbles into his beer.

“Not like I asked for you to be.”

The table collectively groans as Kirishima hangs his head, shaking it slightly before whipping it back up and almost smacking Katsuki’s pint out of his hand. It earns the crimson haired man a sharp glare and another grumble as Katsuki pushes himself away from his radius of reach.

“Well it’s too late now, we’re here, so shut up and tell us what’s wrong,” Kirishima exclaims, leaning further into Mina’s lap, blush going darker as he seems to realize that a moment too late. It would have been reason enough to divert attention from him and change the subject if Katsuki wasn’t already seething.

“Who the hell are you telling to shut up?” He snaps instead, beer sloshing in his glass. Its deflating foam spills into his lap, soaking into the fabric of his jeans at his thigh, which only further annoys him.

“What does it even matter to you losers?” Katsuki continues, casting his pointed glare around the table. There’s a pause that pulls tight around the group before they all exchange looks of something a lot like concern.

“It’s, like, kind of depressing how you’ve been moping the last couple of days, ya know?” Camie says around her straw before giving it a long drag that rattles the last of the cocktail and ice at the bottom of her glass.

“It has been a bit concerning how you’ve been acting lately,” Todoroki adds, almost offhand in that damned bored tone of his. It’s like the vocal equivalent of a shrug and it pisses him off.

“And how the hell have I been acting lately?” Katsuki snarls, pushing himself up in the seat in challenge, even as a tight feeling in his chest tells him he knows exactly how.

It’s been a couple days since The Incident, and he hasn’t been by to see Eri since. Not because he’s scared, mind you, but because he doesn’t know what the fuck to do about his Midoriya Izuku problem, and he’s never been a fan of not knowing what the fuck to do. So, he’d decided that until he did figure it out, he would just stick around HQ.

Only, that had made him a bit antsy.

A lot antsy, maybe, depending on who you asked.

“Like you have a stick further up your ass than usual,” Todoroki says under his breath and straight into his whiskey.

“The fuck did you say?!” Katsuki roars, slamming his glass on the table. Loud clinks punctuate the air as the whole thing shakes, moving the other glasses atop its surface.

“No, you know what, he’s right,” Mina cuts in, carefully pushing Kirishima out of her lap. Katsuki doesn’t miss the way her flush rivals that of his best friend, something he’d hopefully remember in the morning.

“You’re usually pretty uptight, Bakugou, but you’ve been acting like a real jerk.”

Groaning loudly, Katsuki drops his elbows onto the table, right into the beer puddle that immediately starts to seep into the fabric of his plaid button up as he shoves the heels of his palms against his eyes. Bright splotches of light pop like miniature fireworks on the backs of his eyelids as the world seems to spin quicker around him.

It would be disorienting if he didn’t have the tether of his anger keeping him somewhat grounded.

Breathing in for five and out for five, he resurfaces to the expectant stares of his friends.

His god damn, friends.

“Alright,” he growls, grabbing his glass once more and downing the last half of his beer before dropping it back onto the wooden surface. “Have any of you guys had anything weird happen while you were with your assignment?”

Quiet drops down into the spaces between them all as Katsuki watches his companions exchange confused looks.

“Besides the usual kid weirdness?” Inasa asks, voice stupidly genuine as he cocks his head in earnest question.

“I once had a kid tell me his boogers could turn into candy,” Kirishima offered excitedly, sitting up taller as he peered at him over Mina’s head.

“There was this one time, where like, this kid said she could tell me my future and she was right!” Camie added in, finally pushing away from her drink. Her chocolate colored gaze never leaves his as she waits for some kind of acknowledgement of that being exactly what he meant.

“What the fuck, no not like that weird kid shit,” Katsuki moans, rolling his eyes toward the bright light above them. Returning his attention back to the group, he shrugs.

“Like, I don’t know. Weird shit.”

“Use your words, Bakubro,” Mina pushes, her own tone gentle as if she was talking to one of her assignments.

“Has anyone else ever seen you?” He finally blurts, his tongue too loose from the alcohol to realize what it was doing before the words were pushed between his teeth. The question freezes everyone in their varying degrees of movement, and paints their faces with a matching look of shock.

“What?” Todoroki asks breathlessly as he leans forward. His expression is filled with interest for what seems like the first time since they got their seats in the private room.

Hands itching for anything to do, Katsuki grabs for the nearly empty pitcher at the center of the table and refills his glass, not paying any mind to the fact he misses at first. Emptying the pitcher, he replaces it at the table’s center before grabbing his pint and taking another sip in an attempt to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

Mina looks between him and Kirishima and back again before breaking the silence.

“Like, another kid?”

“Like, anyone at all!” Katsuki says, voice rising again if only to battle the quiet. He doesn’t miss the way she turns to Kirishima and tilts her head in Katsuki’s direction, as if pushing him to say something.

“No,” the redhead answers, voice hesitant as he speaks the very word that seems reflected in the stares of their companions. “I don’t think—”

“Is that even possible?” Camie cuts in, casting her glance around as if in search for some unseen force. Her wide eyes are filled with confusion, and touched by fear.

A somber thrum fills the room, the feeling of it clinging to his skin like humidity as everyone’s gazes return to him. Buried deep within everyone’s stare is the same look. It’s one of apprehension and worry as they watch him wearily. A jolt rocks through Katsuki’s chest as their stares drag those two small words back to the forefront of his mind.

They raise the hair at his nape with a hint of threat.

Friendship terminated.

Thrusting himself beneath the edge of his glass, he swallows down the truth with the malty booze.

When he comes back up, it’s with a sharp laugh and biting smile.

“I’m just fucking with you guys,” he grunts out, praying his friends are as drunk as he suddenly feels. If they are, they’ll surely miss the way his laughter lands just shy of sounding right.

Air seems to fill the room for the first time since he’d said anything as he watches each set of shoulders around him relax around a collective breath.

“Not cool, dude,” Kirishima laughs before taking a swig of his drink. The brightness of his own laughter breaks the last of any lingering tension as the others join him in his bubbling joy.

Lifting a hand, Camie signals for another cocktail as Mina punches him in the arm again with a teasing pout. Inasa’s laugh buries Kirishima’s as he throws an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, both clinking their glasses together.

Only Todoroki seems to keep his stare on Katsuki as he polishes off the last of his beer.

***

Katsuki’s arm is over Todoroki’s shoulder, held there by the other man’s hand at his wrist as they both stumble down the apartment hallway.

If Todoroki was the type, he might have just cursed the fact he was the one with the bad luck to have ended up stuck on the same floor as the blonde, and thus had ended up the one tasked with getting him home. After all, it wasn’t his fault how housing assignments went.

Much like their work assignments, they were given by Administrators who seemed to have their own wicked taste in fate in mind.

Luckily though, he wasn’t the type.

“Get off me, Icy Hot,” Katsuki grumbles, eyes trained on the floor because he’s certain if he looks up, it’ll pull out from under his feet.

“You’re technically the one on me,” Todoroki says lowly, words bleeding together at their ends as he pauses to look at the apartment numbers. His eyebrows pull together, pushing a deep wrinkle between them as he tries to focus enough to determine which of the squiggles were the right ones.

“Shut up,” Katsuki slurs, pulling away in a vain attempt to prove him wrong. The only thing he ends up proving is that he can’t quite stand up straight as he finds himself falling back against him again.

“Very mature,” Todoroki deadpans, leading them both away from a door with a mat proudly proclaiming ‘WELCOME’ in bright colors. He hadn’t been able to discern the number beside the door, but he at least knows that the blonde wouldn’t just welcome people into his home.

And if he did, he certainly wouldn’t with neon colors.

“I know I am, so what are you?” Katsuki retorts childishly before tripping slightly over his own feet. The sudden shift of his weight almost takes them both down before he manages to catch himself.

A small, prideful hum vibrates through him.

“You weren’t really joking, were you?” Todoroki asks without preface. There’s an instant change in Katsuki’s mood as he goes stiff next to him.

“About being mature? I’d never joke about that,” he growls back, pulling slightly as if trying to force Todoroki to move quicker. The attempt doesn’t do anything to change the fact that he can hear the way Katsuki’s voice sounds a shade closer to sober now.

“About being seen by someone other than your friend,” Todoroki says patiently, eyes trained on the doors that still stretch ahead of them.

He’s certain they’re getting closer to their destination, if only because he thinks he remembers finding it funny that Katsuki would be housed so far from other residents.

“Yeah,” the blonde finally mumbles after what feels like an eternity of stumbling down the hall in silence.

Nodding at the answer, Todoroki continues to move them both ever so slowly toward the door at the back of the hall that it hopefully the right one. He’s at least mostly certain it’s the right one.

“So, what, fucking Peppermint Patty? You got something to say about that?” Katsuki rages, his movement too sudden for Todoroki to maintain their equilibrium. The hallways seems to pitch itself to the side as he loses his footing and drags them both into the wall.

“Calm down,” he hisses as his shoulder twinges with a sharp spike of pain from where it meets the drywall. It takes several minutes to reset his hold on the drunk blonde, and it isn’t until they’ve started moving again that he speaks once more.

“I just haven’t heard of anything like that happening,” he shrugs. The movement pushes Katsuki’s arm higher onto his shoulders as they finally reach the last door.

Above them, the light flickers ominously.

Ah yes, Todoroki thinks. That’s what had been so funny about where he lived.

“Yeah, well no one else has either, and it better stay that way,” Katsuki threatens, though the effect is lost a bit by how it’s slurred. The jingle of keys fills the quiet hall as he fishes them out from deep in his pocket, his search almost pitching the duo forward before he manages to get them free.

It takes several attempts before Katsuki finally manages to slide the key into the lock.

“Have you asked an Administrator about it?” Todoroki asks casually as the door swings open. Pushing them both over the threshold, he carefully balances Katsuki on one shoulder and turns over the other to quietly close the door.

A shudder runs itself through the blonde, and it tickles across Todoroki’s shoulders where his arm is still settled.

“Fuck no,” Katsuki bites out, twisting himself out of his friend’s hold. With a look of determination twisting his features, he trips his way through the dining area before him. There’s a sharp screech of wood against linoleum as he rams his hip into the corner of his dining table.

Letting loose a string of brightly colored curses, he shoots the wooden furniture a look of betrayal as he limps his way to the living room, and consequently, the couch.

With a sigh, Katsuki throws himself back over the armrest, his back hitting the cushions with a soft thud as his legs draped over the side.

“And I’m not going to, so drop it, Icy Hot.”

It’s a dismissal on all accounts.

Shaking his head, Todoroki makes his way to the kitchen, more careful to make it without any bumps or bruises, unlike his companion. Gaze finding a relatively clean looking glass on the countertop, he fills it with water from the tap before carefully swaying his way to the living room.

Looking toward his friend, he sees that Katsuki’s eyes are already closed.

Placing the water on the edge of the coffee table, Todoroki shakes his head once more before quietly showing himself out.

***************************

[meepmorpperaltiago]

Intertwined, part 2

Aka an extension of the pop star AU that I’ve been way too obsessed with for way too long! You don’t need to have read the other fic set in this ‘verse to understand this fic, it’s a standalone thing. Thanks so much to @397bartonstreet and @jake-and-ames for all your help with this fic! 

He sees that she’s shaking a little as she leaves. He takes her hand, runs his fingers over her rings.

He says softly “You don’t have to do this”.

“I know”, she says in response. “But it’ll be good to get everything out there”.

He nods. “Ok, as long as you’re sure”, he says, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

 When I meet Amy Santiago in a four-star Brooklyn hotel, she’s a far cry from both the fresh faced, bright eyed 15-year old I first spoke to at the ’98 Popfest and the troubled megastar whose life was crumbling around her around a decade ago. There’s a new wisdom in her eyes, but there’s also a sense of calm and stability that’s clearly come about since her darkest days. 

She’s surprisingly humble compared to most people with her level of fame, handing me a coffee before we even sit down and then momentarily panicking when she considers that I might’ve preferred tea.

But she’s also unsurprisingly guarded, responding to my casual question of if she lives close to this area with an almost sarcastic glare. It’s a look that says “come on, you know my life, why would you ask me that?”.

In hindsight it was a pretty stupid thing to say. From the time when she first burst onto the scene to become the biggest selling teenage artist ever in only 2 years, the amount of scrutiny into her life so suddenly and so young must’ve been overwhelming.

“It was a really crazy time and for a while it was incredible”, she says with a hint of nostalgia in her voice, “but it was so so overwhelming and I never had any time to just breathe, y’know?”

When I ask tentatively if that was the real root of her later troubles, she silently nods.

 “I have a confession to make”, he says with a smile, as if a joke is forming on his lips. She grins back at him, inviting him to say whatever it is he’s thinking.

“You were my first ever concert”

“No way”, she says, her hand flying to her mouth dramatically as her grin grows to match his.

“Yeah way - don’t tell Gina I told you this but she was obsessed with you, we went to your shows in matching T shirts, we had different ones for each album”

“Awww, babe that’s so cute”

 For the next seven years it seemed like the undisputed Princess of Pop could do no wrong as she brought out three more critically lauded and record-breaking albums and sold out corresponding tours within minutes. Rather than dropping off like many of her contemporaries, she also grew as an artist, transitioning from cutesy bubble-gum pop of her debut album Amy and follow up Dulce into the more grown up sounding, R n B infused dance pop of Fascination and then into the pop punk and guitar sounds of My Lullaby and Our Song.

But from what she says, things weren’t so perfect behind the scenes.

“I was lonely; I didn’t get to just be a normal kid, I didn’t have any real friends, I didn’t feel like I could trust or turn to anyone. And my whole life other than my music was controlled by my management and even then every song I wrote had to be vetted. And over time I started to get really depressed”

She sighs then, looking down, as if preparing herself for the next topic of conversation.

“And”, she says slowly, “that’s when the drinking and the drugs started. That was my medicine”

 “Ames, are you sure you’re ok?”, he asks as they sit in Shaws.

“Yeah”, she says, looking away from him. But he knows her too well.

“Do you wanna just go home and watch a movie? I’m sure everyone will get it”

She smiles then, takes his hand and they leave together. The warmth of his hand in hers doesn’t take away or fix her demons, but the love she feels for him does drown them out on nights like this.

 “I kept it under control for a while and no one knew. But then as it got worse, it started to get to the tabloids. And then Vegas happened”

She was of course referring to the infamous incident that triggered the start of her fall from grace in 2008. The crazy vacation and a drunken fling leading to a marriage that was officially annulled within 24 hours was what turned the previous buzz of press around her constantly into a storm. The man, a failed musician named Constantine Kane, selling his story to every paper he could find for a very tidy sum also didn’t help.                    

“I guess that was the point where they figured out how lucrative it was when I messed up”, she comments, a sarcastic tone thinly veiling wounds that are clearly still present.

“After that, they were everywhere”

 He doesn’t understand why they’ve suddenly stopped. Why Amy is looking around so nervously. Until he sees and hears them. There are 2 cars, both with different photographers speeding up behind them. His heart drops at the fear in Amy’s eyes as they race away.

She brushes it off, but later, when they’re back in his apartment, he can tell there’s something on her mind.

“Ames, are you ok?”, he asks, wanting to make whatever’s upset her better. She sighs and then says:

“I think we need to talk about what happened today. Things like that are scary, but they’re something I’ve gotten used to, I’ve been in that world for a really long time. But being with me… it means you’ll probably have to deal with shit like that too… and that’s not fair on you. Are you sure you want that? Because you could just walk away from all this now and you’d be fine-”

“Amy”, he interrupts, taking her hand. “I’d deal with all of that every day for like 100 years if it means I get to be with you. This is special. And I’m not giving up on us just because of some shitty papparazos.”

She smiles and laughs a little at that and kisses him and he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. He knows in that moment that he’ll be with her no matter what.

 After we bring up Vegas and the press intrusion that followed, strangely enough she seems to zone out for a second and smile a little, as if she’s fondly remembering something. Then she comes back from whatever she was thinking of and we move on with the conversation.

Not wanting to upset her too much, I let her drive the conversation on the rest of her breakdown – the increasing stories of her crazy parties, the infamous incident where she hit a photographer with her car after he jumped in front, the lawsuit that followed in spite of the man being completely unscathed, her fines for drink driving and the crazy braids that started to appear in her hair. Then the climax of it all, for want of a more appropriate term: when she barricaded herself in her bedroom for over 24 hours in the lead up to the Grammys, where she was eventually forced to perform after her management broke down the door. She snuck out of the awards show afterwards and eventually collapsed from alcohol poisoning. I can tell that she’s holding back tears when she answers my next question: what happened?

“It just felt like everything was spiralling so far out of control and it just kept getting crazier and crazier and as things got worse, all I did was drink more and do more of whatever substances I could find. And in the end, all I could do was shut myself off, by shutting myself in. And it happened so long ago, I shouldn’t still be crying over it…”  

I try to comfort her as best I can and ask her if she wants to continue the interview or scrap the whole thing.

“No, this is a story I need to get out. If I keep it all in and internalise it and never talk about it, it’ll be even worse.”, she responds, wiping the tears off her face. In the face of everything she’s been through, she has a remarkable strength.

What happened after that is something she’s kept pretty under wraps, but she tells me now, after taking a few minutes out.

“After I got out of hospital, I quit everything, I left my record label and went straight to rehab. Then, I wanted a fresh start, so I moved to New York and started therapy, which is where I met my husband.” She smiles as soon as she mentions him, looking down at her wedding and engagement rings. Although not many details of him or their relationship are public knowledge, other than the fact that he’s a cop from Brooklyn, he’s been assumed to be the subject of some of her most well-known love songs since she came back to music.

 “So, what are you in for?”, he asks jokingly. “Sorry, I use humour as a defence mechanism, it’s kind of my thing”.

“It’s ok,”, she says with a smile. “For me, it’s a heck of a lot of childhood issues, mostly typical child star stuff”

“Samsies!”, he responds, “Except my childhood issues aren’t to do with being famous and I’m also here ‘cause I got framed and went to jail, I’m a cop, it’s a whole thing – but almost samsies”

They hi five at that and both smile. The therapist calls him in and before he leaves, he turns around.

“Hey, I’ll see you later, right?”

“Sure”, she responds.

 “After we met in therapy, we started hanging out a lot and after about a month we started dating and eventually we got married. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without him. When I was at my lowest point, he was there to make everything better, and I’ve never felt happier or safer than I do with him”

“I’d also been writing music the whole time and eventually I set up Brooklyn Records, so I could release new music on my own terms and support new artists. I still have struggles – things like addiction and depression don’t’ just go away. But I’m ok now and as I’ve already said, I have an amazing family to support me now”

When I comment on the success of both her label and the five new albums she’s released since her comeback in 2011, she smiles fondly. It seems clear that in spite of all the bumps in the road and how much time has passed since her debut, I’m talking to a pop star still very much in her prime.

 “How was everything?”, he asks when she gets home.

“It was great”, she says as she hugs him.

“Did you mention me?”, he says jokingly.

“Actually, I did”

He looks at her softly, before turning serious with genuine concern. “Aww, babe – but seriously, are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been better”, she responds. And she truly means it.