#the quality is so shit but finally the video behind the photo

[theloneamaryllis]

marco and toni after the match 💛🤍

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: "a cigarette pressed between her lips, but i'm staring at her tits, it's the wrong way" - Homelander, probably

Warnings: Masturbation, Explicit Language, General Creepy Behavior, Alcohol Usage, Plus Sized Reader, out-of-date song references.

Summary: Sunday off-work is the perfect time to relax. Unfortunately, your mentor is too interested in shortening that time as much as possible.

Vicarious Masterlist

Your Instagram account is private, but the flimsy security system paled in comparison to Vaught's cyber team.

 Homelander has put in a special request. Actually carried himself to the lower levels of the Tower, asking one of the insignificant workers for a personal favor. Which they were oh-so-honored to fulfill. He's the Symbol of Peace, a fact everyone, besides you, seemed to understand. And as such, here he sits, spread out like a King on his silken sheets, one hand languidly stroking his length through his briefs, while the other scrolls away on your profile. He's aware of the questioning, that awaits him in the morning. Stillwell knew, he never actually used a phone, didn't need to. But that's a problem for the tomorrow version of himself. There isn't much she can do to stop him, either way. He'll get a slap on the wrist,  perhaps even an exasperated sigh, and he's been dealing with those his whole career. 

You must've had this account for a very long time, because the sheer amount of pictures is staggering. When he first flickered through the entirety of this priceless library, it felt like he hit the jackpot. Photos upon photos of different moments from your life stared back at him, at the shameless display of his interest (which he won't call want, because if he wants something, he gets it, and you're clearly not here). Starting from the very bottom, he began to scroll up, quickly passing at least a dozen pictures of you from your high school years. 

You've always been a little chubster, he laughs quietly to himself, bringing the phone closer to his face. Lights dance across his features, as he watches a short video you've uploaded years ago. It's blurry, the quality is worse than shit, but he can recognize your face through the haze of pixels. A nervous little thing, fidgeting with the hem of your color coded costume. It's some sort of student play, it reeks of amateurism. You're standing by the heavy curtain, knee-high socks digging into the meat of your legs in a way, that is tantalizing even through the screen. Biting your lip, you bounce on your legs, trying to rid yourself of the anxious energy, a habit he's noticed a couple of times now.

And oh, there it is. He recognizes the way you shake your hands, some sort of compulsion moving your limbs, consequently, making your curves jiggle under the costume. And then, you finally notice the camera pointed at you, your friend laughs behind the screen, and for some reason Homelander finds the sound aggravating. But your eyes start to shine, as your lips pull back into a bright, if a bit wavering smile, and you lift up your middle finger. His other hand presses harder against his steadily hardening length. 

Another couple of pictures fly past his eyes. You're showing your hands, dirty with splotches of colorful paint to the camera, and there's that sparkle in your eye again. You're decorating your graduation cap. There's glitter everywhere, in your hair, on your nose, on the tops of your breasts peaking from under a washed out sweatshirt. With a groan emanating from deep within his chest, Homelander's hand sneaks under the waistband of his briefs. 

Really, this whole ordeal started as a way to gather some intel. Genuinely.

 He did not expect to be in this situation, because honestly, what the fuck? The last time he's seen you in person, you were such an interesting enigma, he had to know more, had to figure out how the essence of you worked. Which version of you was the real one? The tired one, who cared for nothing save for her neighbourhood? Or the version, who held his gaze with a straight back? How did you disappear into yourself so quickly, were you putting on a mask, or showing your true colors? 

Who was your favorite Superhero? He was convinced it had to be him, that's why you've been acting so strange around him, a pathetic attempt at fighting off your crush. All in favor of professionalism. 

He huffs a staggering breath, fingers encircling his growing hard-on with light pressure. There's a video of you, again, quite recent at that. You're sitting on the floor, an unfamiliar place, he notes, remembering the look of your living room. Legs splayed out, covered by a flowy skirt, and as his grip tightens, Homelander wonders if you're wearing those same, washed out panties he saw on you the first time you've met. Leaning heavily on the front of an old couch, your entire body overflows with relaxed, leisure energy.

Your friend's hand appears from the edge of the screen, passing you a small box covered in present paper.

- Oh God, what's this? - you ask, your voice slightly distorted by the awful quality of the video.

- Something to hump in the night - your friend answers with a snort of laughter.

You regard them with a skeptically raised eyebrow, but tear into the paper, strips of it falling onto your lap. Then, you open the box, and Homelander groans, his hips lifting ever so slightly from the sheets. Your curious smile fades away into a thoroughly unimpressed expression. Reaching into the box, you lift a small plushie, presenting it to the camera, as your friend shakes with laughter.

- Okay, fuck you - you burst out laughing, the sound rich and so incredibly warm.

There it is, his cartoon face stares back at him, as you squeeze the plushie between your fingers. Fuck. His hand speeds up, and he all but yanks his briefs down, freeing himself and immediately going back to work. 

He zeroes in on the glowing blush, blooming on your face, noting a bottle of red wine right next to you on the floor. It's probably sickly sweet, and cheap. Perfect for you. Perhaps, you're pushed by the alcohol flowing through your veins, but Homelander doesn't believe it. He knows you imagine it's truly him, your favorite superhero, as you giggle and press your soft lips to the embroidered face of the plushie, giving it a loud kiss. 

He can almost imagine the moisture of your tongue on his cheek, the taste of wine mingling with that incessant jasmine perfume, you carry around on your skin. A tease, that's what you are, flaunting yourself in front of him in all your softness, all your glory.

- Fuck... - he grits through his teeth, searing the image into his memory, his other hand squeezing him harder - Shit.

Another picture seems to be from that same night. You're noticeably more disheveled, hair sticking out in odd places, your shirt falling off the shoulder. You're standing under the kitchen light, it shines behind your head like an angel's halo. Arms folded, you gaze tenderly at the gifted plushie, holding it close to your chest as one would a newborn baby, your lips pulled back into a drunken, but gentle smile. 

That, for some unknown reason (or known, Homelander is aware of his vices), makes him tumble over the edge, with a drawn out, guttural groan. His movements stutter, hips jerking upwards into his hand, as he feels his release coat his fingers. For a moment, it's completely quiet inside his penthouse, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. His phone clicks shut, and he throws it onto the pillow with a soft thud, eyes closing for just a second longer, savoring the images flashing behind his eyelids. 

Not enough, after a while he sighs to himself frustrated, wiping his hand on the silk sheets, his dissatisfaction leading him to stand up from the bed, and stalk towards one of the gigantic windows overlooking the city at night. With slow, lazy movements, he tucks himself back into his briefs, closing the zipper of his costume, hand lingering in the general area, should he decide to change his mind. 

The night is growing darker and darker by the moment, but it makes no difference for his unnatural gaze, as he focuses his attention on the street below. There, right at the entrance to the Vaught Tower, he can see the top of your head, standing on the sidewalk, tapping your foot to the music coming from the headphones placed over your ears. Homelander observes as a car pulls up, a shiny Uber sign catching his attention. 

Why the hell would you use such pedestrian ways of commuting is beyond him, especially since Vaught's personal drivers were available to you, should you truly need to go somewhere important. Or, you could ask him to fly you, so he can wrap his arms around you, and fuck you mid-air. Now, that's an interesting image. Interesting enough for his hand to twitch at his side, reaching to his belt as if it's working on autopilot. Before he can get too carried away, however, he composes himself with a hard breath sucked through his teeth. 

Curiosity killed the cat, but he's invincible, so what's the harm in indulging himself a little more?

The window to his room opens all the way inside, cool air wafting around his form, as he steps closer to the edge, his cape billowing behind him. And then, he's off. The force of his body lifting into the sky chips the floor of his penthouse, dust falling into the streets below. 

***

One day, every two weeks. That's all the free time you get, for the next six months. 

Coordinating your attendance at a party with the rest of your friends, while on such a tight schedule, bordered on impossible. But somehow, miraculously, you all managed to find that one, elusive Sunday. And two weeks after signing the contract as well. From the moment you've woken up in the morning, you've been filled to the brim with excited energy. While you've begged your friend not to go too overboard on the celebrations, you knew deep down, that people needed some excuse to unwind. And, as such, your joining with Vaught offered such an excuse on a silver platter. 

The Uber takes you through the city, lights flashing past the windows, as you fidget with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. 

God above, you've missed comfortable clothing with a burning passion. After being sucked into Fireball's hero costume for almost two weeks now, the moment you slipped on your cotton biker shorts felt borderline orgasmic. You tried to advocate for some safety shorts, under that stiff monstrosity of a skirt, the costume department provided you with, after the skin on the inside of your thighs tore nearly all the way to the bone from constant chafing. All you got in response, was a bottle of baby powder with Queen Meave's face on it, which felt more like a slap to the cheek, but you digress. 

You'll ask again after tonight. Stillwell might be more receptive to your ideas, now that you've proven yourself to be a model employee. 

The car moves through your neighborhood, your eyes gliding over familiar buildings with a sense of growing melancholy. You decide to push this feeling all the way down, as far as it can go. Tonight's not made for this, you'll allow yourself the luxury of sadness tomorrow, while fighting off the inevitable hangover.

Right now, you can already hear the music, bumping through speakers which saw better days. You can already see flickering lights inside your friend's house, silhouettes of various people moving behind flimsy curtains. You can already taste the horrendous drinks you're about to down. You've missed this. You've been out of here for only two weeks, and in that short time, all you wanted to do, was get back to the familiarity of your previous, non-famous life. The freedom of being yourself, and not this corporate puppet Vaught created.

The Uber pulls up, you pay, and your foot doesn't even have the chance to fully step on the sidewalk, when your friend drags you out of the car. Their smell, their warmth engulfing you entirely, wiping away any remaining worries. They announce your arrival to the crowd of people, more or less familiar to you, and soon, like a blunt at a function, you're being passed around the room. Smiling faces and words of congratulations overwhelm you in the best way possible. Someone pats your head, someone shakes your hand, someone claps you on the back. Someone pushes a drink into your palm, someone else kisses your cheek. 

And before you can even notice, the first notes of Jump Around by House of Pain start playing, and your friend tugs you by the elbow towards the living room, where the center of the party takes place. Bodies swaying, colognes, perfumes, sweat, it all mixes together in an intoxicating wave, and at that very moment Fireball is thrown out the window, locked out of this heaven. In her place, Smirnoff arises, victorious for tonight, and you welcome yourself back with open arms. 

Alcohol swishes around in your veins, a peculiar mixture of lemonade, Sprite and four different types of liquors. Your head is buzzing with the distorted sounds of bass, shaking the glass panes of the windows, your heart beating to the changing tune of another song. And another. And one more. Your hairdo is long forgotten, strands sticking to your sweaty forehead, to the back of your neck. Your voice is almost completely gone, from screaming over the surrounding sounds, and you're certain you won't be able to talk tomorrow.

 But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters, not here, not right now. 

At California Love you find out a group of your college girlfriends qualified for a Vaught sponsored scholarship program. Their hands glide over your waist, as they scream the news at you over 2Pac's voice, and you throw your head back and laugh. Simply laugh. Relief floods you. A feeling you were not expecting, because they're honoring the contract, despite everything you've always known about the company. So it's all worth it.

During Hey Ya!, your neighbor tells you they've managed to score a job at the Tower. The news is interrupted a couple of times, so you all can clap to the music. At this point your muscles are starting to burn from the constant jumping, but that doesn't stop you from shaking your behind in celebration, just like OutKast wanted. 

When No Diggity comes around, your friend invites you to their wedding, requesting specifically for you to come in your Superhero getup. Not really as an appreciation of Fireball's character, they just think it would be funny, and for them, you might actually consider it. They show you the ring, as you both grind against each other, make a pause in said grinding to take a burning shot of Fireball (yes, they thought it would be hilarious), and get back to grinding. 

You're doing good, everyone is doing good, and if selling your soul is all it takes to keep those smiles on your friend's faces, then the price seems comically small in comparison. And yet, something tugs at  the back of your mind, some hidden, biting feeling, wrenching itself under your skin.

By the time No Role Modelz comes up, your head feels so heavy, so filled to the brim with emotions, that you feel like the splintered floor inside your friend's living room will swallow you whole. Suddenly, it's all too much, and far too quickly, and you push past the crowds of oh-so-grateful people, until you all but throw yourself out the front door, half of your drink spilling onto the wooden porch. 

Such a waste.

Smirnoff, oh, Smirnoff, what have you done to yourself, you thins, stumbling through the grass, until your shoes find the sidewalk. Until your ass hits the concrete, and you lean heavily forward, bracing your hands on your knees, hiding your face in your arms. Your stomach feels much too tight for comfort, its contents swirling like a tornado. The music still follows you, the sounds of the party now muted, but still so tangible. Your stomach churns, your eyes start to burn under the mascara.

You won't cry. You can't cry. 

This is what you wanted, those were your terms, you don't get to swallow your own words. Especially since Vaught, apparently, is honoring their end of the deal. And if you were roped into it by an indirect blackmail... Then, so what? Your friend would never be able to afford a wedding, and now they have a date. They're looking at dresses in actual salons, not charity shops. Missus Johnson's kid's school got enough funding, that it's finally getting a whole renovation. Even the drama departament will get some money. You can never cry because of that. 

You don't even know what you're drinking, but you down the rest of it in one go, liquid burning it's way through your insides, until it reaches the already restless stomach. Fireball will surely pay for Smirnoff's sins tomorrow, but fuck that fake bitch, you want to feel alive. 

The song changes again, and you wait until the screams of delight subside inside the house, so you can recognize what's playing. Berkeley's On Fire. It makes you huff a laugh, as you hear a myriad of out of tune voices, yelling at the top of their lungs. You should go back, join them, enjoy this night to the fullest. But your head sways, and your limbs feel like your bones are made out of lead, so you stay in your place, tapping your foot to the distant sounds of the party. It's hard to focus on anything for longer than a minute, and, fearing an upcoming wave of anxiety, you reach into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. 

"Put your pom-poms down, you didn't win shit" 

Oh, ha ha, hilarious.

You light one up with practiced ease, inhaling enough smoke to make your lungs burn, make your eyes line with tears, that you simply refuse to shed. Breathing out a cloud of fumes, you relish in the way they curl around your head, the smell both irritating your senses, and calming them. 

- You know these will kill you, right?

Your head snaps up, and as your eyes adjust against the darkness of the night, your breath catches in your throat. Admittedly, before your tipsy brain catches up, the view is quite spectacular. Surrounded by his American flag cape, Homelander descends from the night sky, his movements unnaturally graceful. His feet touch down onto the concrete in front of you, the street lamp illuminating his imposing figure, like a Patron Saint of The American Dream. He's almost beautiful like that, almost enough to fool you. But suddenly the realization of what exactly you're looking at, hits your like a train, and every muscle in your body tenses up, as you stand up quickly, taking a few stabilizing steps. Homelander's face blurs before your very eyes.

Perhaps those last two shots were a mistake. 

- What the fuck are you doing here? - your words come out with a slur, but your voice remains strong, demanding - Are you stalking me?

The illusion is gone with a blink of an eye, and you watch, as his face twists, in what you think is supposed to be an expression of nonchalance. He's really, truly, not as good of a liar as he thinks he is. 

- What? - he scoffs, sells it harder by looking at you like you're insane - No, no way. I have better things to do than stalk little girls like you.

He did not just call you little girl after repeatedly staring at your boobs, like they were ornaments on a Christmas tree. Your irritation flares up, and with a frown you take a quick, steadying drag from your cigarette. Your head sways to the side before you can stop yourself, as nicotine dances with alcohol within your system, his eyes follow the movement with light amusement.

- I was just on my patrol, and saw you sitting here alone - he continues, taking one step closer - Can't a hero check on his favorite Sidekick?

You throw him a withering look, one he brushes off with a (fake) charming smile. 

- Whatever, I'm not dealing with all this tonight - you wave your hand in his general direction.

Still holding your cigarette like a lifeline, you squat down, only to plop your ass back on the sidewalk with a heavy sigh. Homelander watches you with a mixture of emotions swimming through his eyes, and you can't decide which one would be better. Disgust might've been the safest. If he felt appalled by you, perhaps he would just leave you alone, let you slump down on your own. Amusement offered more risks, because you suspected the man was constantly fighting off bouts of boredom (much like yourself, but you were not about to think too hard about it in your current state, or any state, ever). You didn't want to catch his interest, at least not more than you've already done. And then, there was something else, something you were not naive enough to ignore, but definitely too drunk to get scared by. 

- You shouldn't be sitting here alone - he comments, taking another step forward - Someone might take advantage of a pretty girl like you, in such a vulnerable state at that. 

- Someone other than you, you mean? 

You're not sure what pushes your tongue to form the words in such a challenging, flippant manner, but it's too late now. Hanging your head low, you blow out another cloud of smoke, and his eyes follow the fumes, as they curl around your mouth. 

He's never considered smoking to be remotely attractive, but as he stands now, there's something alluring in your rebellious gesture. Usually, he wouldn't tolerate any of this, he's had people removed for far less. And yet, it's been such a long time, since he felt any sliver of entertainment, especially now, after his relationship with Meave ended. 

There is a groan coming out of your lips, and he watches as your body tips, back splaying on the sidewalk. It's instinctual, the way his tongue slips out to wet his lips, at the sight of your soft body molding itself into a laying position. This, borderline offensively, large T-shirt, spills around you, the ghost of your curves peaking at him through the thin cotton material. The hem rides up your plush thighs, exposing those ridiculous biker shorts below, as they dig ever so slightly into your skin. He can imagine the red lines, that would run across your flesh, where the stitches make their mark. He'd like to feel those ridges, map them out with his fingers, his tongue. 

He blinks, frowns, pushing those thoughts down, so he can replay them in the privacy of some unfortunate skyscraper. 

- Why aren't you at the party? - he asks finally, even though he knows the answer. 

He's been watching from the very begining, hidden from a regular human's sight, surrounded by darkness like it belonged to him. Rubbed a quick one to the sight of you dancing, your smile so bright, it almost blinded him. 

You're silent for a little while, eyes closed, as you soak in the warmth from the sidewalk, seeping into your back. The cigarette in your hand is burning, seemingly forgotten, ash gathering at the end, before it breaks off, and falls unceremoniously. 

- I needed some fresh air - not entirely a lie, but not the whole truth either.

Your voice is so quiet, with this tired edge he's noticed before. Like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. He should feel insulted, really. Here he is, slaving away for the same company as you, saving insignificant lives, securing the budget. And what are you doing, exactly? Get wasted the first chance you can, and piss him off with this holier-than-thou bullshit. Acting like you're such a martyr, while getting a check that would make half this neighbourhood shit their pants. The absolute audacity of you, pretending to be tired, to be so bored, when he's standing right here. Your favorite hero.

Quietly, he bristles, blinking a couple of times, to rid himself of this incessant, stinging sensation in the corner of his eyes. When was the last time he's felt this... Aggravated? 

- I think I'm gonna head back to the Tower - you muse after a moment, the way your chest rises and falls capturing his gaze immediately - I've had enough for tonight. 

His eyebrows scrunch at the sudden note of melancholy entering your voice, but he swallows his intrigue, taking on a more nonchalant persona. 

- I could fly you back.

Silence. Your eyes shoot open, as you look at him with an unreadable expression, and he rolls his shoulders under your scrutiny. This is definitely one of the things he hates about you the most. This keen sense of observation. Suddenly, he feels the padding inside his suit a tiny bit more on his skin.

- What? - he asks, trying to sound casual, but you could pick up on the tension in his voice immediately.

- You're really giving me some mixed signals - you muse, the corner of your mouth twitching in a way that is more enchanting, than he would ever anticipate. 

While your words come out quite evenly, the swaying instability of your body, as you try to stand, betrays just how drunk you really are. For what it's worth, Homelander finds it endearing. The way you have to take a couple steps to steady yourself, refusing with a burning passion to even consider holding onto him for support. He wants to scoff so badly, at this pathetic display of independence. Shouldn't you want to put your hands all over your favorite Superhero? 

He opts for staying quiet, however, betting everything on your pliability. 

- I'm giving you mixed signals? - he huffs, bordering on offended, recounting all of your previous interactions.

- Well, yes - you take a step closer, back as straight as it can go, and his nose is assaulted by the smell of jasmine flowers and cigarettes - Since I've met you, you've been trying to charm me, threaten me, all the while harassing me like we're in fucking high school.

Homelander shrugs, waving his hand in your direction, as if trying to swat an annoying fly. And in many ways, that's how he sees you. An annoying, infuriating fly, with a nice pair of tits that you just refuse to share with him. And that just won't fly (he's proud of that joke). 

- Oh don't be so dramatic - he laughs, the sound forced through his teeth - Everyone knows you have to hassle the newbie a bit...

The sound of your laughter is strange to his ears, despite hearing it many times before, albeit, never directly. A cackling, casual sort of chuckle, which shakes your entire being, and brings something strange swirling in his gut. He would never describe this something as a feeling, because this is not some teenage romance drama. But he would like to hear you laugh again, if only to satiate his hunger for any sort of reaction. The fact it's a positive reaction has nothing to do with this, by the way. 

- That's the weirdest fucking hazing, I've ever experienced, then - you muse, a ghost of a smile still present on your lips, as you close the distance between yourself and Homelander, in a couple more steps, than what's necesary - Would you really fly me back to the Tower?

- Of course, Princess - he flicks your chin with his finger, revelling in the way your head bounces back - Consider it an apology, for makin you uncomfortable before. 

For now, you're willing to overlook the nickname, which surely could be considered a term of endearment, if any other person would use it. You mull over his words, looking at him for a moment longer, your eyes flickering all over his features. Even despite the overwhelming darkness surrounding the two of you, his pupils are so small, for a moment all you can see is the ever-consuming blue. He's handsome, of course he is. A bit too America's Sweetheart for you, but objectively, you were staring at a very attractive man. Who, by all intents and purposes, looks sincere in his offer. 

So you shrug.

- Alright - his smirk widens into a smile, those sharp canines making an appearance - So, how do we do this...? 

You look between him and yourself, and Homelander bites his lip, putting his hands on his hips, as he eyes you for a second longer.

- Put your arms around my neck - his voice is quieter, much lower as well, something which, in hindsight, you shouldn't have overlooked.

You do as he asks, stepping even closer, and wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling more than a bit awkward as you do. It's quiet for a second too long, his chest exapands, brushing against yours. But just as you're about to say something, Homelander's hands grab you tightly around your waist, bringing your bodies flush together. 

And then, the rush of air forces your eyes closed, this unfamiliar feeling of your feet suddenly being very much not on the ground, making your heart drop to the very bottom of your shoes.

- Fuck! - you curse loudly.

Instinctually, your legs wrap aound his midsection, as your calves dig themselves into his sides. You can't look. Refuse to, and with an unbecoming sound, you hide your face in the space between his collarbones, the cologne he seems to constantly wear pacifying your nerves for just a fraction. 

And. He. Fucking. Loves. It. 

The lightness of air surrounds him, making his senses even more acute. Your weight, your soft, pliable body, pressed so tightly to him, he thinks he might get absorbed completely. It's so much better, than what he has imagined. Your fingers grab onto the back of his collar, nails biting into the fabric, so close to digging themselves into his skin. Your chest rises in short, panicked breaths, and he feels every single one of them, wants to crawl into your chest and suck the air straight out of your lungs. The heat of your body alone makes his head spin with dark arousal. And your legs are already in position too. It would so childishly easy, to just take you here, under the night sky. 

- Are we there yet? - your voice borders on a pathetic whine, and the sound runs straight to his nether regions, the pants of his suit tightening on command.

Any building would do, he thinks, as he cuts through air over New York. He could land right there, on the rooftop of this sandwich shop you run off to, every time there's a lunch break. And fuck you, until you'd never want to eat in this disgusting, dirty, cockroach-infested place ever again. Or here, just outside the Vaught Tower, where you oh-so-rudely refused to ask him for help, only to cram your delicious body into an Uber. He'll have to punish you for this oversight.

- We're so close - he smirks into your hair, taking a whiff of your scent as he goes. 

Or, he could follow his original plan, and screw you on every flat surface inside his penthouse. 

The window is still wide open, and he slows down his flight, as he aims for the entrance. His arms tighten around you ever so slightly. There wouldn't be much he could do with you, if you knocked your head on the glass pane, and as if responding to his touch, your own grip becomes even more suffocating. If he was a regular human, he's sure, you'd squeeze the life out of him. And then, amidst flying papers and the overpowering smell of his cologne, everything stops. 

Neither of you move. You're too shaken by the flight to detach yourself from him, and he abuses that fact for all it's worth. His lips pull back into a sharp, dangerous smile. Unknowingly, you've just let a Lion carry you right into his den. 

[j-a-smiths-blog]

2251 8Mar24: Chapter 68.1

I just realized the past two days I have been so deprived of sleep that I regressed 10 days in my post putting chapter 56 and 57 when they were supposed to be 66 and 67...

I've been editing photos this evening from my Samsung NX500 camera that I took on the trip to Australia. I know I would have gotten a lot better quality and video, too, if I took a Canon camera with me... but it was just too bulky.

Been paying attention to Mastodon the new social media I joined last week as it gives artist a chance to post art and not have everything censored and taken down for breaking rules and shit... the guy who got me on Mastodon finally posted his first NSFW photos today which really wasn't much compared to what I had posted within my first couple of days... I mean shiiit.. I had action figure cock on my page a few days after joining and then a few days later I had posted photos of self pleasure as it's like a story...

But I am back in the philippines and need to start getting my life sorted out.

I have:

The lathe to build, the stop motion film sets to construct and now thinking about going ahead to start building more stop motiin sets to really start film production. Story wise for Instagram I can post alot of the behind the scenes stuff making it look like the figures are building the sets here and there as Selena directs traffic organizing everything and bossing production around, for Mastodon I can have her sneak off into the sets and have some please time with Viktor her new toy and maybe I'll add a little lesbian scene.. who knows. There is plenty of directions I can go as long as I build these sets and start doing stop motion!

[bellaramseysgf]

Tour with me (B.B)

Warning(s); Smut! (PIV sex),shit ton of PDA,degrading,praise,unprotected sex (do better),lots of fluff.

Paring(s); Rockstar Bucky Au! X Girlfriend! Reader!

Summary; Bucky asked you to go on tour with him,just didn’t realize how fun it could be.

A/n; so…no 100% sure when I’ll post this but idk I liked the idea,Bucky doesn’t have a metal arm in this, I haven’t written smut in months so let’s ignore the quality of it.

••••••••••••

You had never heard so many screams in your life, watching from the side lines as your boyfriend’s voice rang through the building. Chants of his name in the crowd,his partners names as well.

It was your boyfriend’s 4th show and the turn outs just keep getting bigger and bigger,playing in sold out Arenas around the globe. He had been on a number of tours but it was your first and so far you weren’t enjoying it all that much.

Sure, you were happy to be with your boyfriend but you had no privacy on the tour bus,you were getting no sleep,your head throbbed after the first few songs from how loud it was.

You looked back to one of his managers “hey, can I go back to the bus?” You asked yelling loud enough he could hear. He nodded calling on his walky talky for more security to come.

You smiled up at your boyfriend as he walked over to the side of the stage kneeling down to capture your lips with his. Kissing was definitely bucky’s favorite thing to do, he claimed you tasted like sweet candy and you knew it was the lip balm you used.

The music continued behind him, it was the bridge it was building up. His lips would pull from yours every few seconds just to latch back to yours. The crowd was definitely louder now seeing him kissing you. Most people didn’t know you were even on tour with him.

When he finally pulled away heading back to center stage to continue you turned to the security guards allowing them to escort you to the bus. You were honestly glad you stayed in a hotel the night before, you got good sleep and you took a much needed shower.

You climbed into the bus closing the door as guards stood on the other side. You pulled the cabinets open grabbing your favorite chips, sitting down and opening your phone, your friend had sent you a link to a video.

Once loaded up you realized it was one about you and Bucky. Most people had mixed signals,either they loved you being together or hated it.

The women on screen comes on talking of a photo you had posted of you and Bucky. At his last show,it was cute your tongues touching in the photo as he held your waist.

“Seems y/n took to social media last week to once again show off her relationship with lead singer of Avengers Bucky Barnes.” You smiled at the video “most people are saying they love the couple together,saying she’s the man’s balance. Other people aren’t very happy, one fan even claimed to see y/n looking rather disgusted with bucky’s music.” You gasped as a video came across the screen.

It was of a angle of you back stage at his second show, hand on your forehead,eyes squeezed shut as you were visibly uncomfortable.

“Now, fans are claiming y/n is just in it for the money or possibly fame. This seems like a relationship that just wont last.” With that the video ended and you huffed throwing your phone on the other side of the couch.

You had been sick that day, practically spending most of the morning throwing up. Nerves and anxiety had you that worked up. There was a soft rattle on the doors before it opened Bucky and the members walking inside.

Bucky was the lead singer, he would mainly write the songs. Then you had Steve the lead guitarist,Sam the backup guitarist and piano player,lastly you had clint, the drummer.

“Oh, you do not look happy” Sam pointed out urging you to roll your eyes. “What’s wrong baby?” Bucky asked sitting down next to you “people.” You said blankly. Bucky realized you must’ve heard something you didn’t like. “What did they say?” He asked “do you remember your second show? When I was sick?” He nodded “yeah, someone took a video of me from the side lines claiming I was looking like that because I didn’t like your music.” You huffed.

Bucky pulled a chip from the bag you were eating “Awh, fuck them.” Clint said plopping down on the other couch with Sam and Steve. “They don’t know anything” Sam added “Yeah,they’re stupid” Steve finished.

You smiled at the men and Bucky rubbed your arm. “You’re the best girlfriend in the world. Don’t let those pathetic words get to you.” You sighed. “I knew dating you would come with challenges, just didn’t know so many people would hate me”

Bucky could hear the hurt in your voice,this is why he kept the relationship secret for so long. Not because he was ashamed of you, or because he didn’t want to be with you. Because his fans could be rather ruthless to girls even rumored to date him. You were fragile to him like a little butterfly and he hated seeing the people tearing you down.

Bucky knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like he wanted you too. He asked you to come with to spend time with you,but he finally realized in the past 4 weeks of shows you hadn’t got all that much if any alone time. He could see it wearing you out, and he knew just what to do to fix it. “Well, we are back in new York tomorrow we can stop by my place for bit alright? You can get some good sleep, and I can make you your favorite pasta” you nodded and he placed a quick kiss to your lips.

***

Bucky got called for a random last minute interview. He promised after it you’d both go home. He didn’t have a show for two days which meant lots of sleep and cuddles for you. That’s what was on your mind, however that wasn’t what was on bucky’s.

You had chosen today of all days to wear that fucking skirt. Black and pleated, knee high socks to match it, one of his band shirts tied at your waist. It showed just enough of your stomach for him to feel his cock tighten in his jeans.

God, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The past four weeks were really getting to him. Most of the time you guys barely went 48 hours without him buried deep into your cunt at some point. He could still hear the begs you cried out last time, the little whimpers as he pushed you past overstimulation. Until you were just a cockdrunken baby.

“So, how’s the relationship with y/n?” The interviewer asked and James smiled “it’s going great, she’s my lil sunshine. She’s here you can bring her out.” The interviewer gasped and nodded.

When they told you to go out on stage you were worried and confused. You walked out on stage the few live audience members cheering, your heeled ankle boots clicked as you walked across the hard wood to your boyfriend.

“See, there’s my sunshine” you smiled as his arms reached out tugging you to sit on his knees. There was more then enough couch next to him but you didn’t try to weasel out of his grip. “It’s lovely to meet you, y/n” you smiled “you as well!” You said cheerfully.

People still had to be confused why Bucky was so infatuated with you, you were polar opposites.

Bucky was the heavy metal,leather jacket,all black and dark kind of guy.

You were the bunny obsessed,dress wearing,only pastel colors kind of girl.

Black was slowly becoming part of your wardrobe as colors mixed in the bucky’s you both giving in to the others style.

“So, remind me how y’all met?” The interviewer pressed. Bucky answered knowing you hated this sort of thing. “Well, I was actually trying to record my most recent song.” He started tugging you back against his chest, you let out a quiet squeal your boots hitting his shin. “And this really cute angel walked in to bring coffee to my recording manger. I was just hooked after that” he explained you both smiling at the memory.

“So, he thought you were an Angel what was your first thought about him?” They asked “honest?” You question and they nodded “if I’m totally honest I had seen Bucky around, I mean he was rather attractive. The first thing I ever thought about my boyfriend was ‘I wonder how good he is in bed’” you cited yourself laughing as you felt Bucky chucking under you.

Some of the live audience laughed at that as well “now mind you, we met when I was what? I was 19? Almost 20?” You turned to look at Bucky and he nodded. “Yeah, hormones are raging then” you said smiling. “Was he as good as you hoped?” They asked and you smiled “ah, he’s alright” Bucky huffed and pinched your sides making you squeal.

“You guys are rather the IT couple in Hollywood right now.” They commented, you tuned the rest of it out.

It was easy to do when you felt bucky’s boner digging into your butt. You wanted so badly to rock your hips against it, to hear that gruff groan he lets out. How long is this gonna take..hurry up.

Once tuned back in you smiled back at your boyfriend “yeah, I’ll say right now. If you can’t be happy for me and my relationship I don’t want your support. Most of the girls and guys upset about this are children. I hate to break it to them but I’m 26 years old I won’t date them” he lets out a breathy laugh “I was honestly surprised to even date y/n, with how young she is” you smacked his chest “I’m 23, shut up” you huff he smiled and kissed your cheek.

“Well most of your relationships have been with older women, mainly ones in their late thirty’s or so, what about y/n changed that” you cleared your throat “oh don’t be fooled, he started hooking up with me to get back at his manager.” The interviewer laughed “seriously?” You nodded “Well his manager is my dad, so when my father would piss him off I was his way of getting back at him, I didn’t mind though.” You smiled at him “wow, so you just fell on love?” They asked Bucky.

“Ah, well I just know she was about to travel back to her moms after the summer and I couldn’t write with the thought of her leaving.” You smiled “lucky charm, that’s what she is I guess” Bucky added.

You shifted rubbing up against him, his hands tightened on your waist and he pressed a kiss to your jaw. You honestly couldn’t tell who was more impatient. You or him.

***

You squealed when Bucky lifted you over his shoulder carrying you towards his bedroom. “Bucky!” You giggled as he dropped you onto the bed. “You’re such a needy baby, aren’t you? Grinding on me in the middle of a show.” He chuckled reaching under your skirt pulling your lace panties off.

Bucky threw them,his shirt going next, you bite your lip drinking in his toned body. “It’s rude to stare, doll” you smiled “I’m not staring, I’m admiring” you corrected him. Bucky chuckled tugging your shirt off throwing it behind him.

You were honestly out of it drunk off his smell being so close, the sound of ripping brought you back to earth. “Bucky Barnes! You didn’t just do that” you huffed and he put your tattered bra in the pile. “I’ll buy you more.”

Bucky’s hands reached out groping your tits him leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He bit a sucked at it pulling moans from you before switching showing the opposite one the same treatment.

Your hands dropped to your skirt and Bucky smacked them away. “No. You wanted to wear that knowing what it does to me,you can wear it while I fuck it into you.” You whimpered out against him as he stood the cool air faking against the wetness covering your chest had you shivering.

Bucky pulled off your boots and kicked them away before pulling of his own boots kicking them off as well. Bucky shucked his jeans and boxers off in one fluid motion. He reached into his bedside table and you groaned. “No, no we don’t need them.” You said and Bucky looked over at you.

“But you aren’t on the pill” he said and you smiled up at him “mhm, I know. It feels better without them though.” Bucky nodded and dropped the box turning back to you.

Bucky’s hands gripped your ankles and jerked you to him, he gave you no preparation before he sunk down into his hilt. You let out a pleasure filled sob as you adjusted to his size.

“You’re always so tight,cmon loosen up you little slut.” He said thrusting starting immediately at a rough pace,pulling almost all the way back out before sinking back into you.

It had been longer then normal, every time he sunk into you it was like the first time all over again. The stretch was unbelievably tantalizing the pain turning into pleasure.

“You’re so pretty, my delicate little butterfly.” He mumbled lips pressing to yours as he kept his rhythm.

You could feel the coil in you become hotter and tighter,your mind was becoming hazy “gonna cum” you mumbled out Bucky pulling away. “So quick? You must’ve been so pent up, poor baby I’ll help” his thrusts increased and you moaned out. “Does this help? Hmmm? My little slut, feels good?” You nodded all your thoughts being knocked from your head.

Your orgasm tore through you with a needy intensity, you squeezed your eyes shut seeing stars behind your dark vision. It didn’t take long for Bucky to follow filling you up inside “that’s it, good girl take all of me until your brimming” Bucky grunted the last ropes hitting your walls.

You panted as he fell next to you huffing out breaths. You both worked on getting them back to normal. “What time do we meet them?” You asked and Buck huffed “5” he replied and you glanced at the clock on the dresser “we got an hour. Round two?” You asked and a smirk fell on bucky’s face.“Anything for you” he said chuckling as you climbed on him this time.

[bestiesenpai]

youtuber Sukuna

I beg you to read the shitposts I made about this, they are delicious. You don’t have to of course but...if you loved me you would :) s/n = screen name, and I hope you chuckle at Sukunas screen name

Content warning: uhmhm lowkey incel shit(mean internet comments and whatnot)

part two --- part 3

Name: Sukuna. Age: 25. Height: 6 foot 5 inches. Occupation: toxic Youtuber, fitness trainer and hot guy.

Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for being kind. He wasn’t nice to others, rarely having anything good to say about anyone, and he’d made a successful Youtube career out of it. First starting as a fitness trainer at his gym, through encouragement from his clients and the notion of a quick cash grab, he started Youtube.

He didn’t care about it and that reflected in the quality of his videos and editing. He didn’t have consistent uploads, just filming and posting videos whenever he wanted, analytics be fucked. But somehow, that worked out for him, and he quickly found himself with over two million subscribers just frothing at the mouth for his next video.

And those subscribers were some of the worst people. Sukuna didn’t care about fostering a safe space online for others, not in the slightest. His comment sections were atrocious, both on his Youtube and his Instagram. It was full of toxic men one-upping each other constantly and dragging on each other for not being able to work out as much as Sukuna did.

Sukuna was a large part of why his fanbase were so toxic. He himself often made bad comments about others, whether fellow creators or people that happened to appear in the backgrounds of his videos, and on more than one occasion he’d been ‘cancelled’. None of that mattered though, all he cared about was shitting on other people and making money.

Sometimes he played video games and posted it, but not too often. Sukuna often stated he wasn’t so much of a fucking lonely loser that he’d play video games all the time, and so the gaming videos he did post were few and far between. He played angry shooter games and GTA, mindless button clicking he could get lost in for a few hours for a video.

Laying in bed one night after uploading his most recent video, one where he rages at 12 year olds on GTA online, Sukuna was just scrolling through his phone mindlessly. After he uploads video game content, like clockwork, he gets recommendations for gaming channels. He only watches a few of them, mostly leaving mean comments saying what losers they are, but one catches his eye.

He’s never been recommended this kind of video before. The thumbnail is light and bright with some pink aesthetic lights in the back. But the most enticing thing is the person in the middle, cute pink cat ear headphones on and a bright smile.

“Let’s see…” Sukuna mumbles to himself, mindlessly clicking the video. He hasn’t even read the title, he only clicked it because they were cute, and here he is nearly blinded by the bright setup they have.

“Hi everyone, it’s (Y/N) here and I’m really excited today! We’re going to be playing this new game I found!” Sukuna is immediately enraptured by the sound of your voice, watching how your face changes as you talk. His eyes drift off to the decor behind you, cute plushies and healthy plants, and some twinkling fairy lights. There’s books as well, and your chair is one of those ergonomic gamer chairs he has as well but in pink.

Sukuna watches the video dumbly, totally in the dark about whatever you’re doing, but loving it all the same. All he knows is that he likes the sound of your voice, and when you laugh and smile at a funny part in the game, it makes a light flush come to his cheeks.

It only takes one video for Sukuna to spiral into more of your content. He watches a video on your gaming setup, and he’s surprised that so much technology can come in pink. He watches a video on how you edit, a few of you cooking in your kitchen, and even a few vlog videos.

He quickly subscribes to your channel, and when you plug your social media, he immediately goes there. Pulling up your Instagram, he stares at your profile picture and almost audibly coos at you for being cute.

Your profile is just as cute as your videos are and Sukuna barely remembers to follow you before he’s going through your whole feed, liking every picture he sees. Sometimes he leaves comments, only one word though, ‘cute’. He’s never liked something so outright cute before, it wasn’t who he was and it definitely didn’t fit with his brand.

Falling asleep after following you on every platform, Sukuna wakes up thinking about you as well. And he also wakes up to hundreds of comments from all his accounts, bombarding him with questions and screenshots from last night.

‘SUKUNA WHY WOULD YOU LIKE THIS SHIT?!’

‘OMG Sukuna liked (Y/N)s posts!!’

‘Sukuna is so gross and toxic, you better stay away from (Y/N)!’

‘SUKUNA YOU GAY NOW’

‘EW why the fuck do you like this bitch?’

There were hundreds of comments that he waded through. Most were from his fans, expressing disgust at how many photos of yours he’d liked and wondering why he, Sukuna, most heterosexual alpha male on the planet, would like a pretty in pink Youtuber who had bubbly intros and whined when their animal crossing villagers wanted to move away.

Other comments were from your fans, some in awe that he would like you considering how much he said he hated overly cute things. Other fans expressed concern, worried what this might mean for their favorite Youtuber. Did Sukuna want to cause problems, potentially hurting you? He did have a reputation of bullying others, so this wasn’t far fetched.

Checking your Instagram, you didn’t make any comment about it. There wasn’t any update or anything, but on his end he was being tagged in endless Twitter threads with screenshots of him liking your posts and commenting under them.

“For fucks sake.” He grunted, clenching his phone in his hands. The amount of notifications he was getting were starting to upset him and he nearly threw his phone to get them to stop.

Ignoring his phone for the rest of the day, Sukuna went to the gym like he always did and trained with his clients. Some of them brought it up to him, asking him if he had a mind break last night and forgot what he was doing. Sending them harsh glares, Sukuna refused to talk about it.

“Oh my fucking god.” Sukuna nearly wailed when he got home, finally checking his phone. His name and yours had begun trending, and the hashtag #protect(Y/N) was also. Muttering angrily under his breath, Sukuna turned on Instagram live.

“Okay what the fuck!” He shouted, seeing the live become instantly flooded with people all screaming about you and him. “You’re all fucking annoying, you know that?” Glaring harshly at the camera, he read some of the comments that went by.

‘WHY’D YOU LIKE (Y/N)S POSTS FROM 2017’

‘Are you two secretly dating??’

‘COLLAB!’

“Who gives a shit why I liked their stuff, you’re a fucking weirdo for keeping track of me. And we aren’t secretly dating, dipshits.” Rolling his eyes, Sukuna scoffed as more comments came in begging for a collaboration. “And think about it you morons, why would we collab? Our shit is too fucking different, what would we even film about?”

Sukuna stayed on Instagram live for nearly an hour answering questions asking about you. Every time he had to answer that you weren’t secretly dating, he got a little more annoyed. Not at the comments themselves but at the fact that it was true; you didn’t even know he existed.

Ending the live in a huff, Sukuna didn’t feel any better than before, and it was made even worse by the fact that everything he said was being relayed to Twitter, and you were tagged in every tweet.

“These idiots!” Staring at his phone, Sukuna couldn’t believe what he was seeing. On your Instagram stories, you’d posted a q&a for your followers, and nearly all of the comments were about Sukuna.

“Hi everyone! No, me and Sukuna aren’t dating!” You said, laughing a little to ease how uncomfortable you were. “To be honest, I’ve never even heard of him before! As you know, my content is very...different from his, so our circles don’t exactly intersect. But I’m always happy to have new followers and potential friends!”

“Fuck me.” Sukuna groaned, cringing at how uncomfortable you looked having to address the sudden onslaught of questions. For once he wished he’d actually given a shit about his online presence, so that maybe one day your circles could intersect. He knew he scared you, he scared a lot of people, and this was just proof.

“Uh, Sukuna if you see this, hi it’s nice to meet you!” You said in the next slide, puffing out your cheeks and waving cutely at the camera. It made Sukuna blush, and he hated it. “Thank you for following me and liking my content! I was very surprised that you found me!”

“Of course I did, idiot, you’re fucking cute.” He muttered under his breath.

“I know a lot of people are asking for us to do a video together and I know our content is really different, so don’t feel pressured to respond or anything, but the offer is open! If you’d like, we can collab on something.”

“On what?” He asked like you were there.

“I cook sometimes, and I know you cook too! Maybe we can make a cooking video? You can teach me how to make healthy food or something!” Sukuna could tell a fake laugh when he heard one, and you definitely had one right now. “Anyways, thank you! Bye Sukuna!” But hearing you say his name cutely like that made him not care.

He nearly responded right away, accepting the collab offer now that you’d spoken about it, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. He watched through the rest of your Instagram stories, going back and replaying the parts where you talked about him over and over and his heart clenched every time when you said his name.

In the dead of night, Sukuna DM’s you after watching your latest video and leaving the simple comment ‘check your DM’s’.

“Fuck, what should I say?” He’s suddenly stumped as he looks at the keyboard. Typing and retyping a message, in the end all he can say is hi. He doesn’t expect a reply, ever, but when he gets a vibration on his phone two seconds later he jumps to read it.

(S/N): hi Sukuna! :)

(cursedgod): hey

Real fucking smart, repeating what he just said.

(S/N): is there something you wanted to talk to me about?

(S/N): I hope you haven’t been annoyed at all the notifications you’ve been getting!

(cursedgod): No it’s okay

(cursedgod): we can collab if you want

Good Sukuna, good. Play it cool, don’t let them know that your fingers are actually trembling because you’re nervous.

(S/N): do you want to?? I don’t want to pressure you! I know we’re pretty different haha

(cursedgod): yeah, let's do it. Cooking?

(S/N): sure!

Looking around his home, he was suddenly assaulted with the fact that he didn’t have any furniture. He barely had a proper bedroom, just a mattress on a bare frame and a dresser. His lounge room was the same with his computer setup in one corner and then nothing else. There was only a couch, a mounted TV and a fold out table and chairs for his dining room.

(cursedgod): I know a studio kitchen we can use, I’ll send you the address

Thank god he’d done promo work for a brand in a studio one day, otherwise he’d be fucked.

(S/N): awesome! I’m free next Saturday!

And just like that, it was a date. Well, a meeting. Sukuna knew it wasn’t a date, but his heart still thumped like it was one. Confirming the time, he ended the conversation with a curt goodbye and obsessed about it throughout the night.

When the day to meet you came, Sukuna nearly ran late trying to pick out his clothes. He’d never cared about looking good or presenting himself well in front of others, whatever version of him he turned up in was what they got. But for you, he wanted to try a little harder.

Waiting outside the studio space, Sukuna rubbed his hands together nervously. You’d messaged a day or two ago offering to put the video on your channel since it probably wouldn’t fit his aesthetic, so he didn’t have to bring his shitty camera equipment.

“S-sukuna?” Snapping his head up, Sukunas mouth fell open looking at your curious face a few feet away, an Uber driving off behind you. You were even cuter in person, just his fucking luck. How was he expected to act like a normal person when his recent obsession was here looking better than he could have imagined.

“Hi.” What comes out is a grunt, not the smooth word he’d hoped. He can see you eyeing him up, taking in all the thick and corded muscles of his body. It made his chest puff out a little, he worked hard for this physique and to have you so openly looking at him made him happy.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Sticking your hand out, you smiled politely at him.

“Same.” Shaking your hand with a firm grip, Sukuna could feel the difference in your palms. Yours was soft and nicely moisturized and he had callouses everywhere and a few cuts and scrapes.

Opening the door for you, Sukuna led you to the studio space he’d rented out. It was a clean and modern kitchen, not unlike his own, but it had appliances and looked actually lived in. Helping you set up a few camera angles, Sukuna felt a pang of nerves hit him in the stomach.

“Sukuna, can we take a picture together?” You asked before starting, and Sukunas brow furrowed deeply. Why would you want to take a picture with him? His expression must have scared you, because you quickly backtracked. “F-for promo for this video, on Instagram and stuff!”

“Sure.” God, did he feel bad or what. He shouldn’t have made that face at you, now you wouldn’t look him in the eye. Crouching down to get the right angle for you, Sukuna watched you pick a cute animal filter.

“Just do what I do.” Throwing up a peace sign, you cutely tilted your head from side to side and smiled. Sukuna tried to do the same but he looked awkward, and most of all he was blushing pretty bad.

You snapped a multitude of pictures, some at different angles and some with different filters, and in all of them Sukuna was blushing at least a little. He managed to smile more as it went on, even laughing at one of the filters.

“Thanks! I’m going to post these really quick and then we can get started!” Giving him a brief smile, you turned back to your phone and set about editing some of the pictures. Looking over your shoulder, Sukuna could see that he looked like a blushing high schooler meeting their idol for the first time and not a grown man.

Once the photos were posted and you tagged him in everything, it was time to start. Setting up your marks on the floor, you took a generous drink of water and cleared your throat.

“Are you ready for the intro? I’ll start it and introduce you, okay?” You’d actually prepared a script for yourself, and showed Sukuna as well.

“Okay.” Stepping in front of the camera, Sukuna bristled at feeling you so close to him. Your arm brushed his casually as you were fixing your shirt, and Sukuna was glad he’d worn his most expensive cologne for this.

“Hi everyone, welcome to today's video! As you know, I’m (Y/N), and today we have a special guest today!” Throwing your arms in the air, you motioned to Sukuna.

“Hi.” He nodded, barely cracking a smile. He could feel you looking at him like you wanted to say something, but he didn’t look.

“So, many people have been asking for us to do a collaboration and it’s finally here!” Clapping your hands lightly, you rocked on your heels and nudged his shoulder with yours. “Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?”

“Uh-” The playful nudge you’d given him was enough to make Sukuna short circuit. “I-I-” He suddenly couldn’t remember how to speak. “Rice?”

“Let’s try that again.” You laughed. “Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?” This time, you didn’t nudge him with your shoulder.

“We’re gonna…” the words were on the tip of his tongue, they wanted to come out and be spoken but he couldn’t do it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Nodding reassuringly, you took a deep breath in and out, and Sukuna shakily copied. “One more try?” When he looked at you, Sukuna expected to see a hint of annoyance in your face, but there was none. You were just smiling softly at him, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll get it next time.” Stepping away from the camera, Sukuna took a drink of water and cleared his throat. Cracking the bones in his neck, he took a deep breath and came back. “Let’s do it.” No more fucking embarrassments.

“Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?” You asked for the third time, slightly swaying your body side to side this time.

“We’re gonna make katsudon today.” Finally, the words he wanted to say came out.

“That’s right! As you can see, Sukuna is really fit!” You immediately hopped in, giving his arm a brief squeeze. “And he knows how to make a ton of healthy meals!”

“Mhmm.”

“So I asked if he could help teach me, and all of you at home, how to make it!” Smiling at the camera, you waited a few seconds before relaxing and turning it off. “Did you like that? We can refilm it if you want.”

“No, it’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, he pointed to the bag of rice he’d brought. “Let’s get started on this shit.”

Taking fifteen minutes to film the two of you filling up the rice cooker, when it was over, you set about getting aesthetic shots of the other ingredients. Sukuna tried to seem casual off to the side on his phone, but he was really watching you.

Getting started on chopping the ingredients, Sukuna somehow managed to say the things he was supposed to without stuttering too badly. He was amazed that you could make the things he was doing sound so interesting, your narration as you held the camera and tried to do things yourself was impressive to the man that barely knew anything about cameras.

“Sukuna, I need help cutting the meat.” You whined, tapping the meat on the cutting board with a knife. “I don’t remember how you showed me.”

“Here.” Without thinking, Sukuan grabbed your hand with the knife in it and moved it for you. “You just have to move your wrist more, it’s not that hard.” Doing it a few times, when Sukuna felt your chest expand with air against his, that’s when he realized how close the two of you were. “S-sorry.” Immediately jumping back, he stared at the floor.

“Thanks!” Giving him a smile, you kept at it.

“I’ll fry the meat.” Stepping in as soon as you were done, Sukuna already had the hot oil ready. He was eager to cook and do something with his hands instead of - what he felt like - was awkwardly watching you off to the side.

“Okay!” Grabbing the camera, you focused on the pan. “You’re really good at this, Sukuna!”

“T-thanks.” Staring directly at the pan, Sukuna didn’t look away. Even with the hot oil popping up from the pan a few times and burning his fingers, he didn’t flinch at all.

“Ow!” But you did. Your hand had gotten too close, and when Sukuna flipped the meat, some of the oil had gotten on your hand.

“Shit.” Abandoning the pan, Sukuna was ready to drag you over to the sink for some cool water.

“I-it’s okay, it was only a little.” Shaking your stinging hand, you point to the food. “But I think the meat might burn.”

���Shit!”

Narrowly avoiding disaster with the meat, when it came time to cook the eggs, you made a joke about how you liked your eggs in the morning and Sukuna burnt them almost immediately. While not an overtly sexual comment, the implications of the words still affected him.

Somehow, he managed to make the dish come together and while his plated dish didn’t come out the best, yours looked at least halfway decent with overcooked meat and burnt eggs. The only things not messed up were the rice and vegetables, and even then Sukuna was surprised.

“We did it everyone, we made katsudon!” Holding up the bowls, you smiled big and nudged Sukunas shoulder again. “You saw we had a few mishaps along the way, but that’s okay, that’s what made it fun.”

“Yeah, it was fun.” Sukuna chuckled. Despite him being more nervous than he’d ever thought possible, he had fun cooking alongside you.

“Sukuna, will you try mine? I made it super pretty and everything.” Holding your dish up to him, Sukuna wasn’t expecting you to do that. Now he felt bad that his looked so ugly and like a teenaged boy made it; he almost said no.

Eating yours though, somehow it tasted better than he was expecting. It must have been how you prepared it, and the fact that you cared so much about the presentation. Eating it in silence, he let you eat in peace as well for a few minutes and compliment the food to the camera.

“Alright, that’s the end of the video!” Putting your bowl down, you turned to Sukuna. “I had so much fun today, thanks for filming this with me.” Now was his chance to make everything better. Putting his bowl down and bolstering himself with confidence, Sukuna threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close to him.

“Thank you (Y/N), I really did enjoy today. I hope we can film again soon!” He squeezed your shoulder and smiled really big at not only you but the camera as well. He knew he was blushing, he knew that even the tip of his nose was a nice rosy shade, but he didn’t care. If people teased him for it, then so be it. But he wanted you to know how he truly felt.

“R-really? You want to?” You asked, looking up at Sukuna from your place smooshed against his body.

“Really.”

“Aww, well you heard it here first everyone! Sukuna wants to shoot another video with me!” Clapping your hands a few times, you waved at the camera. “Okay, bye everyone!”

“Bye.” Sukuna waved too, waiting a few seconds before letting you go and turning off the camera.

“Sukuna, did you really mean it? You want to film another video with me?” You were in utter disbelief. All this time, he’d just seemed very standoffish, if not a little awkward around you. You were happy to film this video with him, he had way more followers than you and it would help boost both your channels, and to hear him say that just made it even better.

“Yeah, I was serious.” Sukuna spoke around stuffing his mouth with the food he still had left. He was more hungry than he thought, the nerves doing a good job of twisting his stomach during the video. Now that it’s over, he can finally relax.

“That makes me really happy.” Eating the rest of your food as well, you leant against the counter. “This is gonna sound kind of mean, but I was really scared to film with you today. I thought you were going to be really mean.”

“Shit, you did?” He grimaced, letting out a sigh. “Sorry I had you worried.” He could already imagine the comments you would get from his fans.

“It’s okay! You’re actually way nicer in person, I was surprised!”

“That’s good.”

“And you’re really buff, you have muscles in places I didn’t even know were possible!” You laughed bashfully at that comment, and avoided looking at him when he stared at you in shock. “I couldn’t help but notice…”

Were you checking him out? Had you been checking him out this whole time and he didn’t even realize? He had seen you eyeing him up when you first met, but were you looking at him like that at other times as well? Now he’d really have to watch your video to see if it was true.

“Thanks, it’s my job.” Could he have said that any lamer? “My job outside of all this, I mean. I’m a trainer at this fancy gym downtown.”

“Oh, I’ve seen some of your videos at your gym! I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do? You’ve seen my videos?” If he wasn’t surprised before, he was now.

“Yeah, you know I had to do a little research beforehand.” You nodded, beginning to clean up the dishes around you. “And I know you’ve already watched almost all of my videos, so it only seemed fair.”

Did you have to bring that up? Now Sukuna was embarrassed again.

“Y-yeah, I did.” Clearing his throat, Sukuna helped gather the dishes. He took up washing them, another task he could do to get his mind off you. As you took down the camera equipment, he nearly broke several dishes and utensils from scrubbing too hard.

“I’ll call you an Uber.” He said when all was said and done and you were back at the front of the building.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“No, I want to.” Quickly calling you a ride, Sukuna fiddled with his phone a little more. “Uh, could I- could I-” His voice kept leaving him, and he had to cough a few times. “Can I get your number? I really liked your camera shit and I want to improve mine.” Okay, it wasn’t a total lie. He did like your setup and wanted to make his just as good, but he really wanted your number to potentially talk to you more about things outside of Youtube.

“Sure! Go ahead and type it in.” You were quick to give him your phone, a cute pink phone case on the back of it. Typing it in, he can’t help but notice the little devil emoji you add by his name. He wants to ask, but your ride is already pulling up.

“Bye!” Setting all your camera gear inside the car, you turn and wave goodbye.

“See ya.” Just as you’re about to close the car door, Sukuna gets a burst of confidence. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay!” And off you go. Sukuna watches the car drive off until he can’t see it anymore. He takes his time getting to his own place, eagerly awaiting your message with every step. But even when you do message him, all he can do is send a thumbs up back and nothing else.

It’s about two and a half days after that that you text him again, letting him know you’re done editing and that you’re going to post the video soon. It wasn’t a very long video to begin with, so the editing was simple enough. Sukuna replied with what appeared to be a lackluster ‘can’t wait’, but on the inside he was shaking. He’d already screenshot all the pictures the two of you took together and added them to a folder.

“Here we go.” As soon as the video went live, Sukuna watched it. He was mortified as soon as it started at the blush so evident on his cheeks, and how it stayed throughout the whole thing. He groaned at the part where he helped you cut up the meat, he almost wishes you’d cut it out. Every little detail that made him embarrassed was there, every little nuance of his actions you’d managed to capture and make it cute.

(Y/N): How do you like it??

You texted him after twenty minutes, eager to hear his thoughts.

(Sukuna): it’s good, good editing and stuff

(Y/N): yay! I’m going to read comments in a few hours, you should too! I bet people will be really shocked!

(Sukuna): yeah no doubt

Oh, he was definitely going to read the comments. Whereas you were going to wait for a fair few to come in before commenting, Sukuna frequently refreshed the page and read the new ones as they came in. You were right, a lot of people were surprised, but he also saw a lot of his fans as well.

‘Ew Sukuna really cooked for that bitch? They can’t do it themselves?’

‘Yeah, why do they have to rely on him? Useless as fuck lol’

‘Sukuna only did this to get laid, (Y/N) looks like an easy fuck’

All of those comments, and many more, made his blood boil. Usually, he wouldn’t care at all about the comments, letting them fester in his comment section and spiral out of control. But for you, it was different.

‘Fuck off and die you pieces of shit. Leave (Y/N) alone or say it to my fucking face’

Sukuna sent that message, along with a variety of other threats, to all the people that insulted you. He didn’t care that this wasn’t his channel and that you would deal with it in whatever way you wanted to. He needed to defend you against the unwanted audience he’d brought you.

Luckily, after seeing Sukunas messages, all of his fans backed off. They knew how serious he was about his threats and there were many rumors that he actually did go and beat people up who said things he didn’t like. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of his torment.

With Sukunas name attached to the video and his heavy presence in the comment section, the video easily went viral. It was easily the most viewed video on your channel, getting on the trending pages of several different platforms.

(Sukuna): hey

It’s nearly a week after the first video that Sukuna messages you, and the hype is still going strong, and your follower count grows greatly from it.

(Y/N): hi! What’s up?

(Sukuna): do you want to film a video for my channel now? We can play a game, I have a few

(Y/N): sure that sounds fun!

Oh how wrong you were. The game Sukuna chose was a scary game, a shooter game with scary zombies and a lot of possible jumpscares. He doesn’t tell you either, so on the night of filming - he insisted on it being nighttime to get the full scary effect - you were caught off guard.

“I don’t know about this.” You whined once you saw the title. The two of you were video calling alongside playing the game together, and Sukuna’s eyes flicked to your figure on the screen.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll carry you, don’t worry.” He had started filming as soon as he’d set up the game, and you were filming yourself as well for him.

“You promise it won’t be too scary?”

“If it’s too scary just close your eyes and I’ll protect you.” Smiling softly at you, he started up the game. The beginning was fine, just a quick introduction to the game, but as soon as things started to get moving, you were scared.

“Sukuna a zombie is eating me!” You screamed, frantically pushing buttons in an attempt to get it off.

“It’s okay!” He quickly got rid of it, and made sure to stay close to your character as the story progressed.

“(Y/N) stay by me, there’s about to be a whole lot of them.”

“Close your eyes there’s about to be a jump scare here.”

“Don’t worry about getting that item, I’ll grab it for you!”

Sukuna nearly forgot he was being filmed, saying sweet things to you to help encourage you and make sure you weren’t overwhelmed. There were many parts where you screamed in fright and Sukuna was there to coo at you and tell you it was okay. He made sure that your character never died, making sure to keep you close until the end of the game.

“Sukuna, that was so hard!” Squishing your cheeks in your hands, you looked at him through your phone.

“It was fun though, wasn’t it? I had fun with you.” Completely abandoning the game, he stared down at his phone with a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, when there weren’t so many zombies.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and it made him laugh. Leaning his head into his hand, Sukuna grinned when you yawned.

“Aw, are you tired? Better go to sleep soon.” His voice dropped to a lower volume, like you were right next to him.

“I will.” You yawned again and it made Sukuna yawn as well.

“Get off the phone and go to bed, you’re making me tired too.”

“Fine.” Whining out the word, you waved sleepily. “Goodnight Sukuna, I’ll send you the video files in the morning, okay?”

“Night.” Waving back, Sukuna waited until you hung up to turn his stuff off as well.

In the morning, Sukuna was ready to edit. What usually took him a week to edit out of laziness, he took only a day to edit this video with you together. Rewatching the footage, he nearly gagged at seeing how soft his face got when he looked at you, and most of those parts were left in because he couldn’t stand to watch them and fix them.

(Sukuna): videos up

The next day, he messaged you. Once again Sukuna patrolled the comments, swiftly deleting any that said even a hint of a bad thing about you. There was less this time, what with Sukuna adding a warning at the beginning of the video threatening anyone that talked down at you.

This video, like the first, went viral. But for a much different reason. Since Sukuna was emotionally unable to deal with how sappy he was and edit those parts out, everyone got to see how soft he was for you. If the comments weren’t mean, they were screaming about how you and Sukuna must be dating now, because why else would he look at you and talk to you like that?

And much to Sukuna’s dismay, there were also fancam edits of you two together. Any clippable moment of him being sweet on you in the videos you’d made together along with the photos you’d posted on Instagram were edited together and posted on Twitter. You both were tagged in every single one, making sure Sukuna saw all the videos of you and him together. He saved all of them too, delighting in the way you looked with him with all those pretty filters.

By the end of the day, people were trying to put a ship name together for the two of you and he’s seen you repost a few fancams with cute messages of thanks as well. Seeing you receptive to the fans screaming about the two of you made him happy, even if he was still too nervous to text you about anything outside of Youtube.

As more comments came in, people on Twitter were begging him to do a vlog with you. You had quite a few on your channel, going to cafes or filming what your day or week was like. Sukuna had watched them all and was jealous of every single person that appeared alongside you.

(Y/N): hey I’m doing a live on Instagram if you want to join me! I know people really like us together lol it’ll be great for views

(Sukuna): sure

Did you want him to join now? He’d just gotten out of the shower and thrown on a pair of sweats, he wasn’t exactly decent. But he didn’t want to waste time getting ready only for you to end the live.

“Hi Sukuna!” You smiled and waved when he appeared on the screen.

“Hey.” He waved back, not caring about the angle he was holding the camera in. He saw hearts begin to fill up the screen and comments started to fly by, almost all in caps about the fact he was shirtless talking to you.

“Guys, don’t be weird! Who cares that Sukuna is shirtless?” You tried to stop them, but it was clear you were flustered as well. You weren’t looking at him, peeking at him through the screen a few times.

“God you’re all thirsty as fuck.” Sukuna finally looked at himself on the screen. He was shirtless and in bed, hair slightly damp and tousled on his pillow. Reading a few comments, he shot up. “Of course I’m wearing pants, you nasty fuck!” Storming out of bed, he stood in front of the only mirror in his house that wasn’t in the bathroom and turned the camera around. “See, look!”

“Oh.” Gasping softly, you were glad Sukuna didn’t notice you screenshot the live. Clad in only gray sweatpants, Sukuna’s freshly cleaned skin gleamed in the light of his bedroom and every single muscle and edge of his body was on display.

“There, told you I wasn’t fucking naked.” Rolling his eyes, he flopped back down on the bed. None of the comments had gotten any better, all of them talking about how hot he was and how you were so lucky to know him in real life.

“L-let's talk about something else.” You stammered, not showing your face on camera for a few minutes. Sukuna laughed at the comments teasing you for being embarrassed, agreeing with some of them under his breath.

“So, what the fuck are you all doing here?” Sukuna posed the question at the chat, but at you as well.

“Well before you came everyone was talking about you...and you know how everyone has been begging for us to vlog?” You started off slowly, peeking an eye at his face.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to call you to ask how you felt about that?” How he felt? Why did you want to know?

“You couldn’t have texted me that?” That wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to say, but it made you chuckle, so it was okay.

“No! I wanted to ask so everyone could know!”

“I don’t mind it.” If you wanted to vlog with him, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“So…” Worrying your lip, you looked off camera for a few seconds before looking directly at Sukuna. “Would you like to be in a vlog with me, at a cafe? It’s outside the city, kind of far, but we can rent a car or-”

“Yes.” Sukuna interrupted, nodding his head quickly. “I’ll come. We don’t have to rent a car, I’ll drive.”

“Really?” The comments were just as shocked as you were. Sukuna never filmed anywhere but his home and the gym, this would be a monumental occasion.

“Did you want me to say no?”

“No!” You screamed immediately, nearly dropping your phone. “I just- I wasn’t expecting you to say yes!”

“Well I did.” Sukuna bit his lip, running a hand through his hair and flexing his arm. “So I guess it’s a date, huh?” His normal asshole confidence was back now that you were appearing through a screen and not right next to him. A surprised sound came from the back of your throat, and you nearly dropped the phone again.

“Y-yeah! A date!” It felt good to have you flustered for once and not Sukuna. Laughing heartily at you, Sukuna smirked at the comments.

“Was that all you wanted to ask me or was there something more?”

“No, that was it!”

“Alright.” Licking his lip and letting his tongue hang out of his mouth a little, Sukuna watched you bite your lip as well. “Well I’m gonna go, I got stuff to do, but I’ll text you later (Y/N).” Dropping his voice as he said goodbye, Sukuna left the livestream.

“Holy fuck.” As soon as his phone was off, Sukuna let out a breath he’d been holding in. His heart was pounding hard despite how confident he was in his actions. Flirting was nothing new to him, but with you it felt different and like he’d never done it before in his life.

He watched the rest of your livestream while he finished getting ready for bed, laughing at the comments still teasing you about getting flustered with him. The notifications for Twitter were going off as well, and he knew for sure that there were new fancams for him to check out later.

(Y/N): Sukuna!! You’re so embarrassing!

Texting him after your stream, your cheeks were still burning at the memory.

(Sukuna): hey, you said it would be good for views and it was

(Y/N): I know…

(Y/N): did you really mean it, about coming with me?

(Sukuna): of course. If I didn’t want to I would have said no

(Y/N): that’s good lol!

There was a lull in conversation, and Sukuna nearly fell asleep waiting for you to either text him again or for him to figure out what to say next.

(Y/N): so, a date huh? Are you going to bring me flowers?

Now he was awake. He didn’t expect you to bring that up again, and his eyes flew open. Sukuna’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, mind going blank on what to say.

(Y/N): lol just kidding! I know you only said that for the stream! I’ll text you later about the details, I’m about to knock out

(Y/N): goodnight :)

Well shit. Now he definitely wanted it to be a date.

[script-nef]

How their relationship gets revealed (iii)

Characters: Akaashi, Oikawa, Sakusa, Tsukishima, Ushijima

Category: fluff

Akaashi Keiji

You’re a best-selling novelist and incredibly famous

Akaashi has been your editor for 3 years now

He’s such a hardworking and dedicated worker

You buy him a lot of presents and he does as well

Constant uploads onto social media with new gifts and meals together

Which happens a lot because you need constant feedback and reviews

And so your readers kind of ship you with him

Lightly, like “Y’all are cute together” and “I wish I have this kind of support”

They don’t actually think you’re together and also don’t want to force it on you

But little do they know that you’ve been dating for over a year now

Because Akaashi is:

1. Kind and caring 

2. Really hot/pretty 

3. The gentlest person you’ve ever met and 

4. Is incredibly professional and can separate work from personal feelings 

5. Just look at him

He confessed his feelings for you after your last book sold over a million copies

Because he was drunk after the celebration

But you also liked him and a new relationship was born

Mainly kept on the down low because it’s just easier

You and him both have meddling people around you

But feelings grew day by day

And you desperately want everyone to know your boyfriend is such a wonderful and amazing partner like scream it from the top of your lungs

And so a new book was made

In the dedications page, you wrote “To my other half, thank you for taking care and loving me”

Reader are surprised at the relationship update

But are super happy for you even though they don’t know who it is

The book is a really sweet and cute novel

Readers think it sounds kind of familiar for some reason…

And at the end of the book, it says “To Akaashi Keiji”

(Turns out it was loosely based on yours and his relationship)

The reading community is flipped and your book reaches bestsellers in record time

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa comes to Japan for a match against the Schweiden Adlers

His return was met with thousands of fans and plenty of photographers and reporters

Every one of his fans were saying how much they love him and hope he wins

And tons of gifts are given left and right

He gives his ever-so charming smile and gracefully accepts them

An interviewer asks him what he missed most in Japan

He rattles off a list

“My family, my friends—Iwa-chan isn’t here though—Japanese food. There’s this wonderful ramen place in my hometown! I also have to see Mattsun and…”

The reporter smiles and nods to his replies

His fans are screaming how they’ll buy anything he wants in the background

He thanks them but that just makes them scream louder

Then his face goes soft, like he’s remembering a really happy thing

“...but I missed [Name]-chan the most.”

The reporter’s eyes widens along with all his fan’s

Even hardcore, and I mean hardcore, fans didn’t know about this

“They’ve been supporting me so much and it’s been ages since my last visit… I just want to see and hug them.”

His small smile is so full of love and affection, even a blind person could see he’s in love

They had zero idea he was in a committed relationship

Most of his fans scream that they hope he has a good relationship

(He ignores the ones that are shrieking“No!”)

Photos of you with him are uploaded after he wins against Schweiden Adlers 

He’s smiling like the sun in every single one of them

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa hates interviews and reporters

Because they keep sticking microphones, which is covered with theirs and everyone else’s germs, into his face

And expect him to be polite when he’s so uncomfortable

So he has a reputation for being a little (read: extremely) difficult for post-match interviews

Nearly everyone had given up

And then all of a sudden, he’s actually civilised in interviews

Like, answering questions and even smiling a little

Everyone’s thinking 

“Is he okay?” 

“What’s happening?” 

“Oh god he’s finally lost it after being in a team with 3 crackheads #PrayForSakusa2020”

In reality, it’s because you’re the one interviewing him

He doesn't want to do it for anyone else, but you insisted that he has to

And now he responds to other reporters as well (albeit incredibly unwillingly)

But he only smiles for you

Fans start noticing after 3 – 4 interviews

“Is it me or is Sakusa really nice when that reporter asks him” 

“No I noticed as well” 

“DOES HE LIKE THEM ASDISJDW IS MY BOY IN LOVE” 

“WHY IS EVERYONE DATING OR IN LOVE WHEN I’M SO ALONE”

After a match, you finish a live report which people can chat on (just say there is one)

It’s in a sheltered place so currently not a lot of people are around

And he doesn't walk away, just keeps standing there

He thinks the camera is off now, and so do you

But is isn’t it’s still on and going live

You’re about to pack up and walk away

But a small tug stops you

It’s Sakusa and the people are going wild because holy shit, is Sakusa actually touching someone??? Our clean freak?? Are my eyes deceiving me??

You take his hand (“What the hell?”) and softly ask “Kiyo? What’s wrong?” (“DID THEY SAY KIYO UGH CARDIAC ARREST”)

He mumbles about how he doesn’t want you to talk to his teammates, even for the sake of interviews (“IS SAKUSA JEALOUS??? OUR DETACHED BOY???”)

You giggle and ruffle his hair, kissing him over the mask (“I AM FAINTING CALL 119”) while saying you need to do your job

And then look over to the cameraman

Whose jaw is on the floor

And you can see the red blinking light from the camera

“Ah, shit”

Tsukishima Kei

His teammates (*cough* Koganegawa *cough*) outed him on social media

You were working overseas and came back after months

The day coincided with a practise match, but Tsukishima was able to excuse himself

So you’re having the time of your life with your saltTM

He’s actually a really nice and sweet boyfriend underneath all that salt and sass

Even made a date course to explore the city

Had a good lunch and some strawberry shortcake in his favourite bakery

You enjoy it immensely, so he was smiling secretly

But then his phone starts blowing up for some reason

When he checks it, there are thousands of questions flooding his messages and social media

Turns out Koganegawa slipped up

He was doing an Instagram Live and when someone asked where Tsukki was

Did he come up with a good excuse?

Nope, he immediately said “Oh, he’s out on a date!”

Everyone’s confused because our salt has a partner?? Since when??

And then he realises he screwed up, especially with how private Tsukki is

The only thing stopping the exposed boy from returning to the gym and throwing hands with the setter is you

You kept saying it’s fine and it’s okay

He reluctantly gives up on planning his revenge (not really though)

You distract him enough to go to the museum he’s going to be working at

And he later uploads a photo of you from behind while you’re reading a dinosaur’s description

(And a separate one where Koganegawa is in a dogeza pose)

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Schweiden Adlers won another match

Ushijima answers interviews, like he does every match

One particular reporter asks the root of his energy and passion

They expected an answer like “thirst for success” or “pride and honour” or something along those lines

But he smiles softly, which breaks everyone watching because they have never seen that before

But the next thing breaks them even more

He says “[Name], my spouse.”

His teammates knew about you but not everyone else

People are spitting their drinks out and absolutely flabbergasted

Even his own teammates because he didn’t seem like the person to say that

He says it’s your first anniversary as a married couple

But he’s overseas so he can’t be with you today

Says that he sent a present and he hopes you’ll like it

Then bows and just walks away to change

Like he hasn’t said the most scandalous thing since the start of his career

Tons of articles and Twitter posts are made about him and this new revelation

To the point where it’s trending #1

He doesn’t care though, and you really don’t either

It wasn’t that big or important of a secret

He just didn't mention it up to now because he didn’t see the need

He doesn’t have to publicise the extent of his love for you because you already know that

The present was a brand-new, top of the line laptop along with a new phone

The same brand as his (awww couple items)

So that he can FaceTime/video call you with HD quality

His teammates have to listen to him being sickeningly cute every night now

And complain about it on interviews 

#BestHusbandUshijimaWakatoshi starts trending

[tedturneriscrazy]

Here's Eclipse Lake, an episode that has been highly anticipated! Will it top Knock, Knock, Knockin' On Hooty's Door?

I'll skip the pretense: No. It won't.

You'll see under the cut.

Hmm, that list of ingredients for the Grimwalker...I'll let other people theorize about this (like @sepublic ), but it sure looks like a thing

Guess the mysterious green goo won't cut it, huh?

Belos face reveal already?! Huh, didn't expect it so soon.

Oh, no, he's hot! (And I'm mad about it)

Still an ass, though

Now we know why Hunter was wearing a different outfit (because people fixated on that for some reason)

Amity with the clipboard gives me strong Dipper vibes

GHOST! My beloved!

I need a moment because CAT!

(Also, someone pointed out earlier that Ghost was based on Dana's cat, and that's super obvious in hindsight)

Raine?! Oh, wait, you mean rain. Sigh.

Eda gets training tips from DBZ confirmed

(Also Amity's face when reacting to Eda's explanation is priceless)

Oh God Eda's a weeb I need another moment

Damn, Amity just straight up calling Eda old

Oh, loopy Luz

(The abomination holding the tissue box is adorable for many reasons)

Yeah, don't want Luz to eat the McGuffin

I have several questions about those Tamagotchis that I'll refrain from listing here

Amity your Odalia is showing

Girlfriend counter: 1

(Yes I am introducing a counting gag, deal with it)

Was wondering if they were ever gonna reference the dissection incident. We've come a long way, baby!

Oh, so that's what everyone was looking at

Luz honey your enthusiasm is admirable but no

Luz burrito is quite cute, though

Girlfriend counter: 2

(Damn, still wild to think that that's the case)

Just occurred to me that "Boots" is probably shortened from "Bossyboots" from earlier

Guess the Luz hiss compilation needs to be updated again

Those tunnels ain't the only thing around here that's unstable, amirite?

Oops, guess Kiki was justified, after all

Maybe don't talk so loudly about your plans, dude

That is her son, get it right!

Serves you right for having that stupid strand of hair sticking out like that

Is this just the episode where everyone dunks on White Boy? Because I can totally get behind that.

Already mentioned this, but I am loving the parallels between Katara and Amity with that bottle of abomination goo. Insert obligatory "Two Nickels" meme here about Mae Whitman.

We really are just dunking on the white boy and I am living for it

Hooty had to get it from somewhere, I suppose

Nothing says mother-son bonding like shooting things at each other (see also: Separate Tides)

I'm sure the magic bouncing off the veins won't come into play later at all

Oh well, at least the echolocation looked cool

At this point Amity would kill Hunter for a Klondike bar

Wait why does Hooty need a chair

Willow with the galaxy brain ideas

"A bad but sad boy" Luz is a genius at succinctly summing people up

Kikimora continues to be unhinged. Ironically she's not wrong about Hunter.

Motherfucker stop acting like you know what that says

(Also, projecting much?)

Girlfriend counter: 3

Friendly reminder that Hunter is still an antagonist

Uh oh

UH OH

I know someone mentioned Willow having the brain cell, but honestly it seemed like Luz had it this whole time. And that's not good.

WHY IS FOOL'S BLOOD EVEN A THING

Aaaaand cue the getting screwed over

Further reminder that he's still an antagonist (Apparently there's a vocal segment who's Really Mad at him that seem to forget this fact)

You unhand Ghost right now!! And Amity too, I guess.

(I kid, she's literally my second favorite character)

For what she did to Raine it warms my heart to know Kiki has had zero peace of mind

Wait, the Abomatons are Transformers?! Okay, that's kind of awesome, actually. Alador might be a shit dad but he is a brilliant inventor.

Chucking kids off cliffs is a surpisingly common pastime in the Boiling Isles

Owlbert no!

Eda did spend literal decades fighting the Owl Beast within, so I guess she can't be blamed for not thinking to talk to it

Also hurry up guys I'm very concerned about Owlbert

Fuck yeah Harpy Milf!

Yay Ghost returns!

She's glad they're okay (I didn't need to take this, I just thought it was cute. Also this is surprisingly high quality considering I just took a photo of my TV screen)

Oh, so they do have video games in the Demon Realm. That or Luz introduced them.

Trailer shot!

Oh dear, we about to have a fight over the key

Wow, being so high ranking under Belos is really bad for mental health

Jesus Christ Belos what have you been putting in this poor kid's head?

Leave it to King to give radical recontextualizations

Amity, I'm glad you remembered/realized this about Luz, please don't let the sad white boy play you like that again

Also, I appreciate the gesture you're making, and it's a wonderful summary of your character development, but goddamnit he's gonna go for that key because he's STILL AN ANTAGONIST

"Being nice usually works for Luz!" A) Not always, and B) Amity I love you but Luz you are not. A valiant attempt nonetheless.

Ooh, cool fight scene!

Always lovely to see such superb animation

I was privately griping about not seeing Amity use magic for so long, and now I am fed

Don't think I didn't hear the glass breaking

Appreciate your ass from a hole in the ground, Golden Boy!

(jk I don't actually feel that strongly about him still. That kind of threat still isn't cool, though)

Oh so that's why it's the Common Mold!

It's kinda cute, actually. Or maybe it's just because it's Luz.

TIL Hooty is heat resistant

Apparently Owl Beast just wanted a snack

Girlfriend counter: 4

Also love how calling Amity her awesome girlfriend is literally the first thing Luz says to her upon returning.

Yesssss return the hug! You deserve it!

(I know there are higher quality versions of this screenshot, I just didn't feel like looking around)

King demands huggies, too! (And gets 'em)

Reminder that Amity is smart as hell. I knew that glass breaking indicated something!

So once again I've been had. I let the fandom trick me into thinking this episode would be way more intense. Guess that one screenshot was from the next episode.

Overall this was...fine. Some nice Lumity moments, Harpy Eda strutting her stuff, that gorgeously animated fight sequence; those were all lovely.

I do wish Willow and Gus had a bit more to do. And I'm still rather unenthusiastic about Hunter, to be honest. I've seen his type several times before, and the path they have for him is rather obvious. I may never share the fandom's love for him, and I guess I'll have to deal with that.

Anybody who says this was better than KKKOHD is a damn fool.

Mid season finale next week! I think Yesterday's Lie will finally bring the pain!

[the-hot-zone]

Haru’s Bending Style: An Analysis (And Why Jet Would Lose His Shit)

Here’s the thing–Haru has an incredibly distinct style of earthbending, and it goes beyond, “he uses his hands a lot.” To understand this, we have to go to the root (heh) of firebending. Stay with me.

Firebending is based on Northern Shaolin Kung Fu. On Northern Shaolin Kung Fu:

“The northern styles of kung-fu generally emphasize long range techniques, quick advances and retreats, wide stances, kicking and leaping techniques, whirling circular blocks, quickness, agility, and aggressive attacks.”

The Northern Style is a dynamic style that places emphasis on legwork and force. It is aggressive, strong, and graceful. There are Ten Classical Forms in the Northern Style, but I’m only going to talk about two of them. 

First, look at this video of Haru clips from the show: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i32HK_RYuDo

[Video Description: several clips of Haru from the show Avatar: The Last Airbender. Most of the clips feature his bending. End ID.]

Two moments in particular stand out to me. The first is this:

[ID: a series of five screenshots that show Haru bending. They follow a sequence of movements as Haru bends a large boulder into the wall of a gorge. In all photos, he is in a deep gorge with walls higher than his head. The rocks and gorge walls are rough and textured, and they are the color of sand: tan, yellow, and shades of brown. In the first photo, Haru begins to lift a large boulder from the ground. In the second photo, he swings the boulder around with two arms. In the third photo, he breaks root, leaping a short distance into the air. In the fourth photo, he finds his root again. One hand is extended towards the boulder; the other is closer to his body, palm outward. In the fifth and final photo, Haru has bended the boulder into the wall of the gorge. A cloud of dust and rock fragments explodes from the wall, displaying Haru’s force. One of his arms is extended towards the wall. End ID.]

and this moment:

[ID: a screenshot of Haru bending. Relative to the viewer, he is leaping away. His arms are extended on either side of him, causing a small avalanche of boulders to tumble into the gorge. End ID.]

These two moments offer us, the viewers, a wealth of information about Haru’s style. It tells us that Haru has adapted firebending techniques to earthbend. Let me explain.

Long-range techniques

This is the most obvious display of Haru’s style; he easily bends earth that’s not immediate to him. We see this above, and we saw that when he rescued that old man from the mine--Haru moved a significant amount of earth from a significant distance away, even going so far as to stop fragments of rock mid-air. Once again, in the above images, Haru is moving a lot of rock that’s not close to him, and he’s doing it with his hands. This brings me to my next point--the two forms Haru’s style reminds me of.

Hand movements

The first is Duanda: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6y28P5cWHPI

[Video Description: a person performs Dun Da and its application. In the application, an additional person fights the first. End ID.]

Duanda (or Dun Da), focuses on close-encounter movements. The above video also displays the Northern Style’s other characteristics: deep forms, legwork, and power. Here’s a moment that stands out:

[ID: two screenshots from the above video: NORTHERN SHAOLIN 第六路短打少林拳 (FORM + APPLICATION). The first photo shows the person in a deep stance, one leg out in a lunge, the other extended behind them. One hand is extended while the other is close to the body. In the second photo, the positions of the hands have switched. End ID.]

Movement for movement, this is almost exactly what Haru does in the first moment from above: his stance and hand movements are incredibly similar. But I’m not done talking about hand movements. Haru’s bending also reminds me of Chuān Xīn, or Chum Sam (heart-piercing strikes). 

Video: https://baksillum.wordpress.com/bak-sil-lum-4-chum-sam/

[Video Description: a person performs Chum Sam. End ID.]

This is due to Haru’s hand movements while bending. The steps of this kata involve the circular movements of the arms. In the latter moment I mentioned above, from the Haru bending video, he throws out his arms and moves them down to bend the rocks behind him. This isn’t circular, sure, but it’s more related to the movements of firebending than earthbending. Additionally, look at this moment from the Haru bending video:

[Imade ID: a screenshot of Haru from the waist up. He is dressed in a brown prison uniform, and he glares at the viewer with narrowed eyes. In his hand he bends three pieces of coal; they hover mid-air. End ID.]

All hands, baby! There is also a moment later on in the Haru bending video where Haru uses his hands in a swinging motion (with his dad), to bend coal. What’s important here is that his hand/arm movements aren’t always forceful and straightly-applied; occasionally, they’re sweeping and graceful--like the Northern Style. In general, Haru tends to use his hands a lot, which is unusual for an earthbender. I don’t think this is because of inexperience–I think it’s because he wanted to bend, was short on katas, and adapted firebending moves. 

Legwork/Leaping

Finally, let’s talk about leaps, or, as I like to call it in terms of earthbending, breaking root. This is seen in both of the Haru bending movements I mentioned above. In the first moment, Haru breaks root before he smashes the boulder into the gorge wall. And, if you look at the last photo, Haru is in the air when he moves those boulders. Let me repeat that: to bend, Haru is in the air. He breaks root! This is highly unusual for an earthbender--but not for a firebender. 

In summary, Haru’s style is a blend of firebending and earthbending--he’s utilizing aspects of firebending to accomplish earthbending. His style is a combination of occasionally breaking his root to apply a powerful force to his attacks; long-range techniques; arm-movements, and traditional earthbending. He’s applying what’s he’s learned from watching Fire Nation soldiers, and it’s fascinating. 

Now. What does Jet think of this?

Ultimately, I think Jet would be impressed by Haru’s bending. Or, more specifically, Haru’s adaptability. One of Jet’s most distinct skills is his adaptability, and Haru’s bending style is exactly that. Haru’s courage and determination to connect with his native element are so admirable. His own father was imprisoned by the Fire Nation, and he most likely faced scrutiny from his fellow villagers (as seen by that one old guy) for even being an earthbender. He had nowhere to go–literally living in a Fire Nation-occupied town. Yet Haru tried his best to learn how to bend; he refused to be separated from his culture. This is seen in his style, which is a bend of earth and fire.

First, though, there’s going to be a moment of incredulity, and anger. Haru was forced to adapt the enemy’s techniques in order to bend his native element. But I think he’d also admire Haru’s determination, and his stubborness to learn. 

The Jet/Haru sparring scene... there would be so much to talk about. Jet recognizing firebending moves coming from an earthbender--that moment alone would be intense. A sparring scene between those two would be legendary, especially if Haru had learned metalbending by then. Haru’s agility and willingness to break root would catch Jet by surprise, I think, but remember: Jet, too, is adaptable. He would have a field day, and it would end with mutual respect and admiration. 

Ugh. I just. Idk man. Jet’s also done a lot of recon on firebenders/Fire Nation soldiers, and so has Haru. But Haru’s willingness to adopt firebending techniques into his fighting style is a decision only Haru would make. They both embody the concept “never give up without a fight” in different ways while demonstrating similar qualities of determination, stubbornness, and adaptability. They have a lot to learn from each other. 

Conclusion? Jetru rights. 

Tagging the ppl who were standing by: @bluberry-spicehead @spooky--suki @spoopykyoshi and @listless-brainrot​ and @nonbinary-crafter-aang​ cause I know you two also ship Jetru.

[royivia]

The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

#

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

#

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

#

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

##

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

#

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

#

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

#

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

#

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

#

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Six

(I know it's Henry and not Sy in the photo, but it just fit too well with this chapter.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Six starts after the cut. (Chapter Five can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the last chapter or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

I will post a master list soon and put the link in the comments to make it easier to navigate.

Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Smut, Christmas themes, mentions of therapy, embarrassing moments.

Ada didn't mind being woken up with soft fluttering kisses on her neck. She definitely didn't mind starting the day with the tantalizing rub of his beard on her sensitive skin and the hard press of his torso against her back, their legs entwined and his morning erection nuzzled against her butt.

What she did mind, however, was when any of this happened at the butt crack of dawn. Ada opened her eyes just enough to read 6:50am on the alarm clock.

"Sy," she groaned, stopping his wandering hands with hers, trying to trap them beneath her breasts. "Hold that thought for later, okay?"

She heard him chuckle behind her, his chest vibrating against her body as he freed his hands from her weak grip. "Later is for putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations," he teased, his right hand now drawing circles low on her stomach.

Ada groaned again, wanting to fight his tempting touch but unwilling to move away from his body heat. "I'll get up at 7:30." Those were the last words out of her mouth before she had drifted off again.

When she woke up once more, forty minutes later with the blast of her alarm clock, her back was cold and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air, filling her nostrils. Damn Syverson and his military sleep schedule! She had taken all her days off to spend them with him only to wake up even earlier than when she was working.

With barely open eyes, Ada threw on his shirt that hung on the chair and slowly made her way downstairs, following the scent of pancakes. She found Sy in front of the stove, just finishing up the last one before setting it on the huge pile of pancakes that looked fluffier than clouds. Ada had quickly learnt that while Sy was a disaster when it came to the art of cooking, he was the master of pancakes and barbecue.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her and then smirked when he noticed her attire.

"Morning captain," she mumbled, walking up to him before patiently waiting until he leant down so that they could share a kiss. It always made him laugh when she did that: the adorable pout on her face when he didn't bend down for a kiss fast enough was worth waiting the extra second every time.

They ate in relative silence, mostly because Ada definitely wasn't a morning person, but the fact that Sy had a habit of stuffing his mouth full of food also played a role. When she was done eating, Ada pushed her plate and glass away, and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs on the chair. She eyed her husband intently, waiting for him to finish eating with a grin on her lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that, darlin'?" Sy asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously before taking the last sip of his morning coffee.

Ada blushed, suddenly looking bashful. "Well… I was hoping we could go back upstairs and continue what you started earlier," she admitted in a tiny voice.

Sy laughed, a booming sound that filled the entire room before a shit-eating grin spread on his lips. "Tough luck, darlin'." He got up from his chair, standing in front of her across the narrow table. "Should have thought about that before falling asleep on me earlier."

Ada's mouth fell open. The cheek on this man! And what made it worse, was his huge smile that made him look like a very amused bear, with his hairy, tempting chest. He was toying with her. "Are you really saying no to sex?" She asked, cocking her brow. Sy wasn't really the type to turn down-

"Yes, no sex." He stated, suddenly looking very serious. "We have to head to the store to buy decorations, then put up the tree and hang the lights outside." Ada tried her best not to laugh. He sounded as if he were explaining a major, life or death, mission to her – not Christmas preparations. "You’re dismissed but I expect you back here in fifteen minutes, dressed and ready to go." With that, he turned around and started gathering the plates and silverware to put them in the dishwasher.

"Yes, sir."

Ada knew better than to talk back. First, when he had something in mind, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Second, she hoped that the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get laid. Third, he had used his Captain voice that somehow always managed to make an obedient little soldier out of her.

Though, rationally, she also didn't want to make it any more difficult for him. He had confessed to her a few nights ago why he'd felt so uneasy when they had gone grocery shopping: the gondolas were too tall which led to lots of blind spots and the amount of people meant he couldn't rely on his hearing sense to detect potential danger. 'It just screams ambush,' he told her.

Ada couldn't quite imagine what he must have experienced that a supermarket or a store would translate into danger, but it was not her place to question him. Instead, she had kissed his forehead in bed and offered to start doing their shopping on her own. Sy had promptly refused, suggesting they simply go early in the mornings, when there were less people and less distracting noises.

Now at Target, she was immensely glad she had gotten out of bed, the sight alone was worth it. It wasn't everyday you'd see Sy pick up a bunch of Christmas tree baubles and inspect each one of them carefully before determining which ones were worthy enough to make it to their living room. Ada sneaked a picture for safekeeping and then decided to send it to his mom as well. Family dinner was fast-approaching, and she'd seize all the cookie points she could get.

"Darlin'," Sy called, catching her attention. He was holding up an inflatable Santa who, instead of carrying gifts, dragged a bag full of liquor bottles and sported a drunk grin on his face. It was tacky beyond words. "Do 'you think we should get this, or will it just upset the neighborhood kids?"

Ada grimaced but tried to disguise it with a smile. She’d die before letting that thing on their lawn. “I think a neighborhood dog would tear it to bits within a second," she lied, trying to appear apologetic.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

°°°

The lights were up. It was a much quicker process with Sy's help. It was also the occasion for Ada to just sit back and relax because he was adamant, she shouldn’t step on a ladder to help. Instead, she had a glass of bourbon waiting for him for when he finished. It was 5pm somewhere after all.

"You said we had a tree!" Sy's deep voice reached her from the basement.

Ada threw her head back, sighing, before hurrying downstairs after him. "Yes, it's in that box over there," she pointed at a white cardboard box behind a couple of spare tires.

"Woman, it's tiny!" Sy complained, picking up the box and setting it down between them. It was about as tall as her. It was not that small.

"It's the one I've used every year since I moved in. It's pretty enough and doesn't take up too much space,” she defended.

In front of her, Sy exhaled loudly through his nostrils before rubbing his beard. She knew that move. It's what he did to remind himself she was not a soldier under his command, but his wife, and that he better measure his words unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa.

"Look, darlin'," he said calmly, enclosing her small hands in his much bigger ones. "This is my first Christmas home with my wife. I refuse to put up a minuscule, fake sapling in my home and call it a Christmas tree."

Ada was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know Christmas was this important to him. Though it was true he had been overseas on Christmas the past two years, so she could understand where he was coming from with wanting this Christmas to matter. Besides, it was endearing when he put it like that.

With a nibble on her lip, Ada gave in. "Okay. They're selling trees in that parking lot by the pharmacy."

Sy slowly shook his head, a mischievous look on his face. "No. We're going to get our own pine tree from the woods."

You gotta be kidding me, she groaned internally.  

°°°

Ada had no idea where they were. It hadn’t been that long of a ride, but there were no more houses or streets to be seen around them, just endless fields and a forest. It was only when Sy took a right turn, that she started spotting cars and what looked to be a very colorful barn which had been converted into a cozy boutique.

“Where are we?” She asked, staring out of the window as Sy looked for a place to park his truck.

“The Dallagher’s ranch,” he replied. “They do a corn maze and a pumpkin patch in the Fall, and in the Winter, you can pick up your own Christmas tree. My dad used to take Claire and I here every year.”

Oh… This was a family tradition. No wonder Sy made such a big deal about having a real tree for Christmas.

Once out of the car, they walked hand in hand through the dirt road until they reached the makeshift counter made of hay where you could get a handcart before heading out into the man-made pine forest and select a Christmas tree. Most people she saw, however, were already returning the handcarts and happily carrying their trees to their parked cars.

The old man by the cash register seemed to recognize Sy instantly, smiling warmly as he greeted him with a one-armed hug. Ada realized it was the ranch’s owner. “I haven’t seen you in years, Jack!” The old man exclaimed with a laugh before turning to Ada. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

“This is Ada, my wife,” Sy said, introducing them. He watched with amusement as Ada stumbled as the old man hugged her without a warning, taking her by surprise.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ada,” the man nodded once he had retreated, and then turned back to Sy. “Should I be offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding?” He teased.

Sy was already wrapping his arm around her shoulders, chuckling. “To be honest, Dallagher, there were no guests at the wedding,” he replied, amused at the way the old man frowned in a confused manner at that piece of information. “Actually, we came here to get a tree.”

“Of course!” Dallagher immediately turned and ordered the young boy in overalls to fetch them a handcart. “What size did you have in mind?”

“Something around seven feet,” Sy said, looking pensive as Ada looked up at him suspiciously, trying to figure out how much seven feet converted to in the metric system. Once she’d done the math, she pulled at Sy’s flannel sleeve to protest – that was way too big, it’d take up the whole living room – but the Dallagher’s grandson was already handing them the cart and leading them to the entrance.

“Trees that big are at the very back of the forest, you’ll have to walk a little.”

This turned out to be quite an understatement. Ada felt like they had been walking for literal years. While they had still come across other people at the beginning, mostly families, they were on their own now – that is if you didn’t count the many squirrels that kept appearing out of nowhere.

She stopped, grabbing the back of Sy’s red tartan shirt so he would be forced to pause as well. “Can’t we just take one of these?” Ads suggested, gesturing at the countless trees all around them. They were all pretty enough and considerably taller than her.

Sy huffed, biting his lip in amusement as he looked at her dispirited face. He’d told her she should probably get changed and wear more comfortable shoes before they left home, but she had insisted she wasn’t going to change clothes just to get a goddamn tree. “These are only around six feet, darlin’. And,” he paused, eyeing the trees more closely, “they’re not Nordmann firs. I want a Nordmann.”

Ada sighed defeatedly, but nodded all the same, starting to walk again when Sy took pity on her. “Do you want to sit on the handcart?”

The change on his wife’s face was instant, the frown lifting into a smile as she climbed on the cart and sat down in the middle, evening out her weight for him. “Is that better, darlin?” He asked teasingly.

She turned her head back just to make sure he saw her rolling her eyes.

By the time they reached an area with Nordmann trees that Sy considered nice and big enough, her butt was sore from the conjunction of the hard, wooden surface and the uneven ground. She wasn’t even sure she had made the better call or whether it would have been better to suffer in her new ankle boots instead.

“Which one is better?” Sy asked, pointing at two pine trees that looked virtually identical to her.

Ada shrugged, almost saying that he should choose before realizing how much time that would take. The man wasn’t picky about food, bedlinen or even the pillow he slept with, but apparently, he had to make sure he brought home the most perfect tree. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. “The left one,” she said finally.

“Which one? Your left or my left?”

Breathing in deeply, she decided to just point at the tree she was talking about. Sy nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the saw he had brought with him and started to work on the tree. While she had been most eager to get this whole thing over with, it became an entirely different story now as she dreamily stared at her husband getting to work.

With most of his back facing her and one knee on the forest’s soft ground as he started sawing off the Nordmann fin, Sy looked absolutely delicious. The red flannel shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt and the jeans made him perfect sight with anyone with a lumberjack fantasy. Ada had never considered herself as having such a kink. A uniformed soldier, or even better, a captain? Hell yes. A strong, rugged husband capable of her breaking her in half? Also a big yes. A lumberjack? The thought had never crossed her mind in the past but there was no point in denying it now as she sat back on the wooden cart, watching Sy carefully saw down the giant tree.

She was wet. Horny. Aroused. You name it. It also didn’t help that they hadn’t had sex that day. Yet.

"Sy," she whined, just loud enough to get his attention, while swinging her legs in the air like a child.

"I'm almost done, darlin'," Sy responded, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I want a nice, clean cut."

Yeah, and she want a nice, dirty fuck. Pouting, she watched him for a couple more seconds as he knelt in front of the base of the tree, deciding from which side he should bring the saw to the trunk next in order to make it even.

That was when Ada decided she was tired of waiting. Shuffling quietly, she slipped off her wet panties from under her dress and rolled them into a small ball before throwing it at her husband. It hit his left shoulder and rolled down his chest. Grinning wickedly, she leaned back on her shoulders and enjoyed the view, the muscles on his back shifting as he picked up the garment off the ground. If this didn't get her laid, nothing else would.

"Ada Metz Syverson," Sy groaned out her full name slowly, his voice even deeper than usual. He got back up on his feet and turned to face her, looking stern.

Suddenly she didn't feel so brave anymore, not when he had crossed the distance to her in two determined strides and went to tower over her small, sitting frame. His jaw was set, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Ada moved her eyes down his body, her eyes pausing at the defined pectorals on his chest before sliding lower. He was definitely hard, the bulge on his jeans prominent.

"Just remember you asked for this."

She wanted to ask what this was supposed to be, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Legs,” he ordered, patting his shoulder as he came to stand just inches away from her. Almost unconsciously, she obeyed his order, her ankles coming to rest on the front of his shoulders, her feet framing his neck. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a quick kiss to her right calf before his large hands moved to the front of his jeans, just over the protruding tent and began undoing the belt and snap.

From this angle, Sy’s cock looked even bigger, the shiny glans flushed a deep pink. Ada swallowed tightly, her legs already shaking with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Pumping his shaft with his right hand, Sy brought his left one to her core, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over clit once or twice before sliding it between her folds. She was a dripping mess. Sy smirked when she keened eagerly at his touch, enjoying his ministrations until he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off her slick. “It’s good you’re so wet already because I just can’t wait to take you, darlin’.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t wait. The next thing he did, was grabbing hold of his throbbing, hard cock and guiding himself into her. Ada moaned loudly at the intrusion, drowning out Sy’s own growl as her walls clenched around his cock, trying to get used to the abruptness and depth of the penetration.

“Fuck, Sy!” She cried out, not even sure what it was she wanted. “Don’t stop,” was all she could muster as he ploughed into her like there was no tomorrow, hitting her pleasure all at once.

He knew they were being too loud. They might be alone, but they were still out in the open air, and yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to care – not when she felt this good around his cock and her noises only heightened his fervor. If someone happened to stumble upon them, then they’d simply be in for a premium show,

It wasn’t long until her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably up in the air, prompting him to remove one hand from his steely grip on her hip and wrap his arms around her legs to keep them steady as he continued with jackhammer thrusts. “Are you going to cum for me, darlin’?” Sy panted, groaning out the question between clenched teeth even though he already knew the answer.

Ada didn’t manage to reply, the first waves of her orgasm already coursing through her when she moaned his name. Her hips canted up, her body tensed up like a bolt, and Sy knew he was done for right then. Her warm walls squeezed him impossibly tight inside of her, milking the cum right out of his cock while he fought to keep his balance as pleasure overtook him.

They came down from their heights slowly, chests heaving. Sy lazily removed her legs from his shoulders, massaging the strained muscles on her inner thighs before he set her legs down. This woman would be the end of him. “That was…” he panted, bending forward over her body to kiss her forehead, unable to find a proper adjective to describe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” Ada breathed out, nodding slowly.

Sy ended up having to carry her and the tree on the cart back to his truck because there was no way she was able to walk straight after that.

°°°

They finished decorating the giant tree. Ada had to admit it looked pretty although the red and gold decorations clashed with the color theme of their living room. She handed Sy the newly purchased baubles one by one – he was the only one capable of reaching the top.

On their way back home, she had somehow managed to convince Sy to stop at the therapist’s office – the one she had found had the highest ratings on Google. They had booked the first available appointment, which was just after the New Year and Sy had made it very clear to their secretary it was just a ‘testing appointment’ and that there was no need to set aside time slots for follow-up sessions yet because there was no guarantee he’d be back. His reluctance was palpable, but Ada was glad he was giving it a try at least. And if he didn’t like, then they’d figure out something else.

In the background, their wedding video kept playing and she wondered for how much longer she'd have to hear the sound of camera flashes as the chapel assistant took way too many photos of them in the most cliché poses you could imagine. Sy has insisted they put on their wedding video since they’d never gotten around to watch it and it fit the season, according to him. Slowly, the annoying sounds began fading away and Ada sighed with relief. Watching herself on TV sparked too much embarrassment in her.

"Hand me the big one with Rudolph, will you, darlin'," Sy asked from behind her, still meticulously decorating the tree.

Ada nodded, searching for the bauble he had in mind. It was still in the shopping bag, she remembered, lifting it off the floor to dig inside it.

Ada froze as a female chuckle was heard, unconsciously gripping the glass ornament too tightly in her hand. "Not that fast, Captain."

Behind her, Sy frowned. "What did you say?"

"Tonight, I'm in charge," she heard her own voice say - no, it was more like a purr.

"Shit!" Ada cursed loudly, letting the bauble fall back inside the bag and she hurried to the TV, her worst fear confirmed.

Sy followed her quickly, stopping just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that from our wedding night?" He asked slowly, his eyes locked on the screen as he watched his younger self being tied up to the bedposts by his wife.

"Yes," Ada cringed, her face a painful grimace. "I didn't even remember the sex tape."

"Me neither," Sy swallowed loudly, admittedly rapidly becoming aroused at the sight of his Ada doing a striptease on camera. She wore that red ensemble with the garter belt.

"I think the assistant never really ended the video after our wedding, only paused it and we later continued filming in the hotel instead of starting a new video," Ada commented, now understanding what had happened. How they’d even came up with the idea of filming a sex tape on their wedding night, she didn't know. Alcohol had probably played a part in it.

Sy was still staring in awe at the TV, enthralled by the sight of his wife deviously edging him, her hips swaying slowly, when her words slowly registered in his head. "Didn't we send copies of the video to our families?" He stammered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant.

Silence fell between them as they both realized they had been dumb enough to send copies before watching it themselves. "Fuck!" Ada barked, seizing the remote to pause the video. "We sent that to my parents, your parents, your sister...," she listed, her face losing all color.

Suddenly, the sound of Sy's deep laughter filled her ears. She turned to him, aghast. How could he find this funny? This was peak cringe! She’d be one needing therapy after this!

"You know, darlin', watching this video was the first time my parents ever saw their daughter-in-law, before even meeting you in person." Sy explained, shaking his head with amusement.

Ada was mortified. No wonder Mr. Syverson had seemed on the verge of laughter the first time they'd met and Helen had given her the side eye. The woman had a USB stick in her home with an hour-long video of Ada fucking her son. "You know, Sy, this wedding video is also the first thing my parents saw of you." He stopped laughing abruptly, his face red, all amusement gone.

They both sat down on the couch next to each other, slowly coming to terms with the fact that pretty much their whole families had seen this, and never said anything, probably keeping it as an inside joke.

Sy broke the silence, his large hand reaching to rub her naked thigh. "You know, I don't think we should be embarrassed," he said, prompting her to stare back up at him, eyebrow raised dubiously. "The way you tied up my arms really enhanced my biceps and you looked adorably hot like a vicious kitten from hell."

°°°

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​ 

[artxyra]

So I had this idea and I was wondering if you would write it. So damian has lived with his dad for a couple of years, he is 15/16 and his brothers have been nagging him about going on a date like a normal teenager for months now, and then one day he just snaps and screams at them " don't you get it I'm already betrothed!" His brothers are confused but try to help " I'm sure we can find a loophole and get you out of it!" "No. If the betrothal is broken the league will kill her."enter marinette.

Note: Well this story sounded better in my head, but it took forever to type up. I hope you enjoy it. 

Damian couldn’t remember a time when his brothers didn’t make an attempt at his love life. Every other month (sometimes weeks) it was attempt after attempt.  He hated it. At first, he humored his brothers, but that humor quickly turned to the opposite emotion. Though Damian’s biggest secret thought that it was hilarious, and it was.

Damian remembers their first attempt, he was only fourteen, been in the Waynes’ custody for almost four years. He remembers being tugged into a bathroom and then forces to wear silly fancy clothes. His brothers should have been lucky that he didn’t have his weapons on him. To them, it was to gain the high school boy experience since Damian refused to do any of the sorts. Shouldn’t they just happy that he has one friend at the very least? Nope, they really wanted Damian to have a sense of normality.

“Baby bird, every teen goes on a date. Please just do this for us.” It was Dick that had started the persuasion. Damian had only tsk and fold his arms against his chest. He was already fed up with all the bullshit spewing from the older adopted Wayne’s mouth.

“Why should I even do this? I barely know the har—girl and—” Damian begins to scowl as Dick interrupts him by tossing a vest for him to wear. He mentally gags at the texture of the vest. Damian had scene better quality, not that he’ll tell where.

“We promise it will be worth it.”  It was Tim that adds to the conversation as Jason was to busy cleaning up his knife in broad daylight.

It wasn’t long after that was the date with a Gotham native. She wasn’t up to his standards; it was clear that she didn’t want to be with him for him. To this day he suspects that she only agreed because of the money. Damian tried everything to make the date super uncomfortable for the girl even going so far as to make up an explicitly detailed gory story. She left cursing his brothers, mainly Dick, out at the end of their date.

Damian had thought that would be the one and only time that would happen…he had forgotten the stubbornness that runs in the family. Failing was not an option as this continues for another four years.

“I’m sure it was a fun date.” A female’s voice says from the screen of his laptop, that was place on his dresser as he does shadow movements with his katana.

“It was tiresome, Angel, and quite frankly I’m getting sick of it.” Damian lowers the blade to his side and turns to face the screen. On the screen is a lovely female, around his age with long dark hair that drapes over her shoulders. She lets out a giggle.

“I’m sure they have the best intentions, besides it’s not like they know I exist, anyway.” She says rolling her eyes.

“Angel, I love you, but not even you can last an evening with the dates they have set up over and over again.” Damian sighs putting up the katana. He then picks up the laptop and goes to lie on his bed.

“Well, I’m sure it will all be fine. Besides, I have a surprise for you that is coming soon. Just hold out until then. Okay?” She says with a bright as a loud sound goes off in the background. Damian sighs and nods before ending the video call. He hates keeping her a secret, but it was the right thing to do.

It was a week later when his brothers came to him with another blind date proposal signally the tenth time that has happened in a span of a month. Everyone could see the growing frustration in the young Wayne heir. With the mention of dates, couples, restaurant, manhood, romance, it would set Damian off, although he was quick to calm down with a message from an Angel.

“Look Demon spawn, she is literally perfect for you.” It was an excuse, something for him to look forward to. No one is perfect.  

“C’mon baby bird, she could be the one.” Another excuse. There was only one girl that was the one and she’s several hundred thousand miles away.

“Go, it all fancy and shit, also the NDA.” Ugh, this was becoming numbing. Damian could only wish to slide his fine blade across all their necks. Also, why the hell would Jason even mention an NDA to him in the first place?

“What is this? Another blind date for the young master?” Thank god for Alfred.

“Alfred, we promise this will be the last time.” That’s a lie and he knows it.

Damian could feel the growing headache forming at the back of his mind. Dick’s moving too fast, Tim’s giving him all the details about his so-called date, and well Jason is just being Jason.

“Enough!” Damian finally breaks. “The reason why I don’t like going on these so-called blind dates is because I’m betrothed to someone.” The word betrothed rings through the heads of his family members.

“Wha~!” Simultaneously, the older Waynes’ minds break.

“Is there any way you can break it off? A loophole even? How are you betrothed?” Shouldn’t that had been asked backward? They could all see the steam oozing out of Damian’s ears.

Crossing his arms and turning his back to his brothers, Damian looks down. “No, not unless you want a death on your hands. The only way to end a betrothal is to kill the other, that has always been the League’s away of things.” The second the last word left his lips, Damian walks away; he needs to talk with his Angel.

Still in shock, everyone turns to one another.

“How could we have missed that?” Tim screeches before taking a sip from his mug despite the shaking in his hand.

Dick was unsure what to say, think, or do. It’s not every day you learn the brother you’ve been setting up is engaged. An engagement that they could not break.

“I’m more worried who the brat is engaged too?” Jason murmurs then proceed to clean out his gun. His brothers stare at him with wide eyes unsure what to say to the second oldest.

For the next week after that bomb drop, his brothers continue to pester him about his betrothal, they even managed to include Bruce in the conversation a couple of times. If it wasn’t for Alfred, Damian knows that the pestering would have left someone in the hospital.

On a rare sunny day in Gotham, Damian had taken Titus out for a walk. It was clear his mind and to get away for the time being. Finding a nice park bench to sit on, he pulls out a small sketchpad and begins to sketch. Titus runs around enjoying the outdoors.

“Is this spot taken?” The voice sounded so familiar. He grunts ever once looking up the person afraid that he had misheard the voice. “Oh, c’mon Dams, I thought you would be happy to see me.” It was then that he looks up. In shock, he pushes the sketchpad to the side and pulls the person in front of him into his arms.

“I miss you.” He murmurs into her dark hair. “But how?”

“I managed to win the Martha Wayne scholarship, and then your butler Alfred got into contact with me about visiting.” She says looking up to Damian, though she was mainly seeing his chin due to their height difference. “You’ve grown.” She then pouts.

Damian lets out a soft chuckle, hoping that no one outside of his Angel heard him. His Angel places her head against his chest and together they stayed like that until Titus decided that he was some attention.

“Awe, he’s so cute.” She says petting the Great Dane.

Damian was internally happy to have her by his side for the first time in years. She’s the one that is perfect for him and it’s not because she was molded to be, but because she knows him inside and out.

When Damian, Titus, and his Angel returned to the manor, it is Alfred that they see first.

“Welcome home, young master, and Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Alfred greets the teen.

“Alfred, please call me Marinette, my last name can be a mouth full,” Marinette says giving the butler a smile. Alfred nods and proceeds to guide them to the living room. “So, this is the Wayne manor, those photos you send me Dams does this no justice.”

Damian once again chuckles knowing she’ll be in a heavily inspired by the architecture which will then cause her to go dark until she finishes whatever project came out of the inspiration.

“Angel, how about I give you a proper tour of the manor?” He offers to which she gladly takes.

Marinette had been staying at the Wayne manor for a couple of days before Damian brothers make their grand entrance. Without catching sight of the girl, they make their way to the youngest Wayne hoping to get some answers about his betrothal.

“Um, you can ask me if you want,” Marinette says from behind the boys causing an outcry of emotions.

“What you’re real?” It was Tim rubbing his eyes that speaks first.

Marinette awkwardly nods, “And you need sleep. I have a special brew that can knock anyone out within seconds.” She says to Tim before turning to the others. “I’m Marinette, nice to meet you.”

Dick and Jason stare at the girl lost for words. Dick was internally gushing about her size and how cute she is compared to Damian while Jason struggles to comprehend the person in front of him.

Marinette closes the gap between her and Jason. She looks over the second oldest and smiles sadly. “You have so much darkness around you. The same that used to be around Dams. I could help you if you want.” She says taking the male’s hand.

Jason was lost for words. This person was willing to help him. He wasn’t sure how to feel but the light flowing off of this tiny person was overpowering.

“That’s it you’re my new favorite sibling. I will protect you with my life.” Dick cries out starting the competition of who’s Marinette’s favorite brother-in-law.

Not surprisingly enough, Marinette warmed her way into the Wayne family. She even bonded with Steph, Cass, and Barbara whenever the girls came over for a girls-only day. Damian quickly was reminded why he didn’t want his family to know about her, seeing that he barely has time with her as his siblings take all the time away. Though it has it’s benefits. He can now visit Marinette in France without needing to sneak away and she could come to visit the manor whenever she wants.

Damian knew the moment he said “I do”, she’ll be his forever in life and in death just like he’ll be hers forever.

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[zigtheeortega]

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !] 

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

•─────────────────•

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took. 

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.” 

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

 “Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere. 

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her. 

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes  “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –” 

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

[yikesharringrove]

Steve being THAT BITCH and making an OnlyFans in college. He needs the cash since he ended up getting disowned by his dad (FUCK Mr. Harrington) It gets spread to the whole school and Billy ends up signing up and donating to him as a joke at first to look at his pics but then he sees one picture of him in a corset and is hea over heels. Possibly ends in smut? But definitely Billy asking him out at a party

modern au, they all met in college

Also fuck Bella Thorne. Sex work is work and she ruined OnlyFans for so many people. Just in case anyone was wondering where I’m at.

-

“Wait, who?” Billy blew smoke out towards Tommy as he asked, brows scrunching.

Tommy took the joint from him, taking another hit before answering.

“Steve Harrington. He was in that basic writing class we both took. He always asked like, really dumb questions.”

Billy thinks he can remember him. He remembers big dark eyes and long legs.

“He made an OnlyFans?”

“Carol said his dad like, kicked him out, or cut him off or something.”

That reverberated around Billy’s head for awhile.

He always knew he’d be on his own when he graduated high school, saved up accordingly.

But something about Harrington’s situation didn’t totally sit right with him.

So when he got back to his dorm, high as a fucking kite, he pulled up OnlyFans, and made an account.

He thought, hey, I’ll send this kid some money. Leave one of his stupid questions as a memo.

The worse thing that happens is he looks at a pretty cute boy’s nudes.

Not exactly a bad thing to happen.

He looked up Steve Harrington, scrolling through a few accounts until he found the big brown eyes he was looking for.

Steve was fucking hot, hotter than Billy remembers from two semesters ago.

His profile picture was good, he was sucking on a lollipop like it was a dick, his hair messy and eyes all sultry.

He had a few options.

Becoming a fan was only ten bucks a month, but he had some pay per view nudes too.

Billy entered his credit card information for the $30 one.

His brain short circuited.

He doesn’t really know what he was expecting, but he doesn’t think it was this.

Steve was lounging all pretty on a dorm bed, wrapped up in a black satin corset, and nothing else.

His dick was hard, angling up towards the corset, flushed red.

Billy stared at the photo. He clicked out of it, buying the $50 picture.

He didn’t care that he was probably gonna blow his last paycheck on this guy, especially didn’t care when the image came into view.

Steve was still in that fucking corset, but now he was kneeling in profile to the camera.

His head was thrown back, his long neck artfully exposed. His cock was still hard, an angry red, but now he was reaching behind himself, two fingers buried in his ass.

Billy was fucking hard.

He paid for the monthly membership price.

And there was access to Steve’s pictures.

He had lots of lingerie pics, obviously had a good quality camera, as the pictures were all well done, with nice lighting and all that shit.

He had several of himself just wearing little panties, some of him in full sets of pretty lingerie. 

Billy scrolled through his account, getting back to the pay per view at the bottom.

There was one video, fifteen minutes long, that was $150.

Riding my biggest dildo :)

Billy paid for it.

It opened with Steve sucking on the dildo, moaning and gagging on it.

Billy couldn’t get his dick out fast enough.

He moved back from the camera a bit, wiping at the drool running down his chin, setting the dildo on the floor. He was wearing nothing but a little skirt. It didn’t even cover his ass.

It was pretty big, probably four inches in diameter.

Once Steve had gotten it settled on it’s suction base, he bent over, pulling his cheeks apart and exposing his hole to the camera.

“Already prepped myself. Fingered myself for a while, but I didn’t let myself cum.” Billy’s cock kicked in his hand. He stroked over the head, squeezing it slightly.

And then Steve swung one leg to settle himself over the toy, and pushed down slowly.

He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he took the whole thing. Billy jerked himself a little faster.

“Feels so good. I love being stretched open like this.” He started bouncing shallowly, his hard dick easily visible in the tiny skirt.

He was bracing himself on the floor in front of him, completely blissed out as he bounced his ass up and down on the toy. 

“Shit, I’m so close. Been close for so fucking long.” He sighed, sinking slowly all the way down on the dildo. “Such a big cock.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Billy had to stop what he was doing, grabbing the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming. He really wanted to watch Steve fall apart.

Steve had started bouncing again, really getting into it this time.

Billy matched his pace with his hand, thought about Steve bouncing on his cock like that.

“Oh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-” Steve convulsed, hips stuttering as he came completely untouched. He whined and mewled.

Billy stripped his cock faster and faster, his cock twitching as he came, spunk covering his hand.

Steve was still panting in the video, his thighs shaking as he pulled himself off the toy.

And then he bent down, and licked up the little puddle of cum on the wood floor.

Billy was hard almost immediately again.

He watched the video a second time.

-

Billy had been whacking off to Steve’s OnlyFans for a month when he finally saw him on campus.

He was pushing his way through the crowd at a frat party when he saw him.

He was wearing short denim shorts, a baggy t-shirt tucked into them.

He was pouring himself a drink, alone in the empty kitchen.

Billy licked over his lips, leaning next to him on the counter.

“Well, good to see you in person, Sugar.” Steve startled, turning wide eyes onto Billy.

“Oh, um, hi.” There was a little pink tinge beginning to dust his cheeks. “You’re Billy, right? I remember you from class last year.” Billy grinned at him. “You’re like, really smart.”

“And you’re like, really hot.” Steve flushed, his cheeks going dark red.

“So, uh, I’m assuming you’ve seen some of my stuff?”

“Paying member. I’ve seen all your stuff.” Steve’s eyes went wide. “And I’ll pay for some more.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, but it’s one thing to post that stuff, I don’t really want to-” Billy’s eyes went wide as he realized what he said, how it sounded.

“No! Oh, shit, I meant like, I want to take you out to dinner. Pay for that. Nothing implied, or expected.” Steve chewed on his bottom lip.

“I don’t put out that easy.”

“I’m not expecting you to.” Billy tried to keep face open as Steve studied him.

“Um, then, yeah. You can take me to dinner.” Steve wiggled his phone out his back pocket, shoving it in Billy’s hands. “I’ll text you so you have my number.” Billy tucked his phone back into Steve’s pocket, made him blush some more.

“Get me back soon, yeah? Wanna take you out quick.” Steve smiled softly at him.

“You wanna hang out tonight? My friend ditched me.” Steve was fidgeting with his drink, looking at Billy through his lashes.

“Yeah, Sweet Thing. Tell me all about yourself.”

[lovelylusts]

Love & War || Min Yoongi

Pairing: Tsundere!Yoongi x Jung!Reader

Genre: College!AU, angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: Jiwoo is here but idk if her family still refers to her a Dawon so we’re just gonna call her Jiwoo, everyone is aged down by a few years bc college, Hoseok is a very weird brother but then again aren’t they all, Im Jinah/Nana and Jung Wheein make appearances as friends bc i’m a major simp, none of the cross-fandom ships represent actual ships and they’re there for p l o t, Vmin’s relationship is very vague but just know they act like an old married couple, I want a friend like Jungkook, AU where 2020 just didn’t happen mk, mentions of underaged drinking, actual drinking but legal this time, Dom!Yoongi, Sub!Reader, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), protected vaginal sex, biting, squirting

Remember that the whole “boys are mean to girls because they like them uwu” saying is not entirely true, and that this is fiction! If a guy is an ass to you, don’t automatically assume they have a crush on you, because they may just be an incel.

Word count: 6.5k

A/N: figured some of us could use a lil fic to get us in the holiday spirit! School has been a bit stressful for me, but now it’s Thanksgiving break, and it’s around this time that my family and i start planning Christmas and New Year’s. I didn’t really center this fic around Christmas bc not everything is abt Christmas, but New Year’s Eve is important to the fic! This was requested by @d-2-moonlight who wanted a tsundere!Yoongi fic! Hope you enjoy!

All is fair in love and war, and Min Yoongi, your older brother’s best friend, happens to use one as an excuse for the other.

You loved your older brother, Hoseok, to death - you really did - but you always had to find excuses to escape him when he had his best friend, Yoongi, over. He and Hoseok had been friends for as long as you could remember, and while you were glad he had such a close, life-long friend to confide with, you hated that such a friend hated you for seemingly no reason. He had never been that nice to you, mostly blatantly ignoring you or giving you one-word answers with no emotion behind them. Or, you would argue about who got to use the family room to watch movies or play video games, and Hoseok would always agree with him and override your quality alone time. Why could Hoseok never take your side?

But it had been quite a while since you had seen him - nearly three years. Last holiday season, he and his family had gone out of town on a joint-vacation with family friends, and coincidentally the family of his girlfriend; and you were pretty sure the year before that, they went on some cruise. Not that you cared, right?

You were aware that he and Hoseok were still close, evident by the constant Instagram posts on your brother’s spam account that showed their day-to-day lives on campus at the university they both attended. Because of course they’d go to the same college. ‘Soulmate shit,’ or whatever it is they say it is. You were aware that Yoongi had grown to be even more attractive than you remember him being last time you saw him in person, and you’re certain that the shitty-quality of the random photos weren’t doing him any justice.

It was now time for both you, Hoseok, and Jiwoo to all return home for the holidays, finally reunited after your stressful sophomore year fall term and Hoseok’s even more stressful senior year - Jiwoo was doing great, though, with her successful fashion line, and that served as big inspiration for you. But for now, you were stuck with your stressful art courses. Why did nobody ever tell me that art could be this stressful?

You went to school a few hours away from home, away from all of your family members, but you were excited to return back to your hometown and not only see your family, but also visit with your high school friends. While it was a lonely drive home, it was worth it seeing that some of your old neighborhood friends had awaited your arrival, waiting inside your home and conversing with Hoseok and your mother.

“She’s here!” you heard Wheein squeal as you opened the front door to your childhood home, seeing that virtually nothing about the house had changed since you were last home. Your two close friends ran to you before you could even put your bags down, and you found yourself nearly being tackled to the ground once they reached you.

“We missed you,” Jinah beamed, squishing your cheeks together. Not only were you the youngest, and therefore babied, by your family, but you were the youngest of your friends, meaning you were babied by them as well. Not that you minded, you missed being treated as such while you were off at school.

“I missed you guys, too,” you said, your voice laced with joy as you held your two friends, your bags long forgotten by the door. Your attention turned to your older brother as he neared you with his signature broad smile plastered on his face, and you smiled even wider upon seeing him. “Hey, Hoseok-oppa,” you greeted. “Sad how you weren’t able to reach your own baby sister before her friends could, huh, Mr. Athlete?”

He chuckled at your teasing, reaching out to ruffle your wind-frizzed hair. “I’m a dancer, not a track star,” he retorted. “Besides, I’ve known these two as long as you have, and they’re fucking vicious when it comes to you!”

“Hobi-hobi!” you heard from behind you. It was from a very familiar voice, who was using a very familiar nickname. A nickname that only one person in your life used. Jinah and Wheein pulled off of your body as you turned around, being met with the surprised gaze of none other than Yoongi. “Oh, it’s you,” he mumbled in an annoyed tone. “Long time, no see, Baby Jung.”

You narrowed your eyes at the nickname that Hoseok would call a ‘term of endearment,’ though you knew it was always a name Yoongi used to remind you of your place at the bottom of the Jung food chain as just a baby who needed to respect her elders. “Hello to you, too, Yoongi-oppa.”

Jinah and Wheein exchanged a glance, one that made it clear that they were very aware of how awkward these next few weeks would be now that you and Yoogi had been reunited, albeit against your will. Having grown up around your house, they knew of the unfair treatment you received from Yoongi, which obviously led to a silent hatred towards him from the two of them. Besides, they had interests in Hoseok’s other friends.

“Uh, do you wanna go get dinner tonight? Jimin and Taehyung both got here last night, and Jungkook should be in today!” Jinah said, pulling your attention away from the two seniors. “Also, we need to go shopping for Taehyung’s birthday! Jimin will keep him busy tomorrow while Jungkook comes with us,” she explained.

You nod enthusiastically, excited to finally spend some time with all of your close friends after such a long time without seeing them. You were aware that Jiwoo wouldn’t be in town until Christmas Eve due to her work schedule, meaning your parents wouldn’t mind you going out with friends because they were prioritizing a full-family day together. “Yeah, that sounds great! Same spot as usual?”

“You know it,” Wheein exclaimed with a wide smile spread across her face. “We’re planning on meeting at six, if that works for you?”

“Yeah, definitely.” With that, both girls left to go to their respective homes to visit more with their families and settle in, and you turned your attention back to see Hoseok and Yoongi in the kitchen grabbing various foodstuffs and beverages. “What are you guys up to?”

“We’re gonna have Seokjin-hyung and Namjoon over to help them plan their New Year’s Party,” Hoseok explained as he rummaged through the pantry, scouring for whatever chips or candies he could find, as Yoongi grabbed a case of beers from the refrigerator. You looked over at Yoongi, who’s gaze met yours with the same stoic face you had grown accustomed to seeing every time he was around you - odd, because he seemed to enjoy your friends’ company more than your own, his best friend’s little sister.

“Can I help?” you offered. Maybe you could make Yoongi like having you around. Sounds simple enough! Or so you thought.

“This isn’t a party for babies,” Yoongi grumbled with a bitter tone, not daring to make eye contact with you as he passed you to grab a bottle opener from the other side of the kitchen.

You narrowed your eyes at him, not fully comprehending that he had the audacity to say such a thing to you. “You realize I’m only two years younger than you guys, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen you try to drink. You’re such a lightweight, it’s embarrassing,” he chuckled darkly. You snapped your head over to look at Hoseok, who was very clearly trying not to laugh at his friend’s insults.

Some fucking brother you are.

“That’s a lot of talk from someone who can’t stand being around me for longer than a goddamn minute,��� you shouted at Yoongi. “Forget it, I’ll just spend New Year’s Eve with people that actually want me around.” You left the kitchen swiftly, grabbing your bags that were still set down by the front door from your arrival, and you hauled them up the stairs to your room.

Your room was just as you left it the last time you were home during the summer, some of the books on the shelf by the door collecting dust from not being touched in God knows how long, along with some snow globes and picture frames filled with pictures of your friends and family. You smiled as you saw one of your favorite pictures - a picture of your group of friends, as well as some of Hoseok’s and Jiwoo’s own friends, on New Year’s Eve during your junior year of high school. That night was the only time you could remember Yoongi being nice to you, though both of you had had quite a bit to drink that night. He had kissed you that night as a dare from Taehyung, who thought he was doing both of you a favor by making you both realize that there wasn’t just hatred between you two, but his effort was deemed futile. The next time you saw Yoongi, he yelled at you, berating you for being a liar and trying to trick him because you thought he was stupid for getting so wasted. You weren’t sure why you loved that picture so much, seeing as it was a reminder of so much pain - maybe it was because nearly all of the most important people in your life were in it, or maybe it was because you had the best kiss of your life that night.

The rest of your afternoon was spent unpacking your belongings, filling the space in your nearly empty closet, which had many old clothes that held sentimental value, such as your senior prom dress, and your old school uniform. Once the small, glow-in-the-dark digital clock on your nightstand read 5:30, you figured it was time to leave for the night, for a fun night with your best friends awaited you. You skipped down the stairs, hearing the familiar laughs of Seokjin and Namjoon; and luckily for you, they were two of Hoseok’s friends that genuinely loved you.

“Hoseok-oppa,” you sang as you entered the living room. “I’m leaving now, I’ll be back later tonight.”

“Aw, you don’t wanna stay and help us plan the party?” Namjoon offered with a warm smile. Ever since Hoseok met him in middle school, Namjoon had always been super sweet to you. Much to Yoongi’s dismay, he always tried to include you, whether it be discreetly saving a few slices of pizza for you, or letting you be his backseat gamer during Mario Kart sessions with the boys. Hoseok had said before that Namjoon had always viewed you as a little sister - odd coming from him, considering he never stopped Yoongi from acting in the complete opposite manner of Namjoon. 

You glanced over at Yoongi, who just grumbled, sighed to himself, and rolled his eyes, clearly not fond of how his other friends tried to include you in stuff. “I’d love to,” you started, briefly flicking your gaze to Yoongi, narrowing your eyes as him for a split second before redirecting yourself to look at Namjoon. “But I’m meeting up with my friends for dinner. Haven’t seen any of them since the summer.”

“Why don’t you invite them to the New Year’s Party. That small one we had a few years ago was super fun!” Seokjin said. Seokjin, who Hoseok had known since his later high school years, was similar to Namjoon in the sense that he tried to treat you fairly, inviting you to eat with them and he even bought you little stuffed animals or figurines as Christmas or birthday gifts. You really wished that Yoongi could be more like him and Namjoon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi’s face drop at the mention of the New Year’s Eve party - you both knew that Seokjin was talking about the one from three years prior, the night the photo in your room was taken. “You guys plan it first, then I’ll ask them,” you conceded. “Now, I gotta get going. See you guys later.”

Upon arriving at the usual restaurant, a small seafood place that was close to the high school you all used to attend, you saw Jungkook and Jinah waiting by the front door for you, their eyes lighting up upon seeing you approaching.

“Jungkookie-oppa!” you exclaimed as you neared them, throwing your arms around him, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs upon the impact of your intense hug. “I missed you!”

“Missed you, too,” he chuckled, finally returning the tight hug you had surprised him with. “The others are inside waiting for us.” You simultaneously let go of each other, and you both followed Jinah into the crowded restaurant, letting her lead the way to the circular table in the back corner by a nearly empty lobster tank, where Taehyung, Jimin, and Wheein were waiting. 

Taehyung and Jimin, the infamous chaotic duo that they were, nearly knocked over their respective glasses of water from how quickly they shot up from their seats once they saw you, both of them rushing over to you to engulf you in a hug, sandwiching you between them.

“How’ve you guys been?” you asked them, your voice muffled due to the fact you were enclosed by their bodies.

“This semester totally kicked my ass,” Jimin grumbled. “But I’m just glad to be reunited with my bitches.”

“Excuse me” Taehyung interjected. “I think I’m the only dom h-” Taehyung’s snarking remark was interrupted with a huff that followed the sound of impact, seemingly from Jimin slapping him on the arm. “You hate me because I’m right!”

“Can you let go of me now?” you asked with frustration, attempting to push the two boys away from your body, whining. “I’m hungry.” All six of you took your spots at the table, you found yourself seated between Wheein and Jungkook, with Jimin across from you, and a waiter soon came by to take drink orders.

“So, Hoseok and his friends are throwing a New Year’s Eve party,” you remarked once the waiter left towards the bar to bring the six bottles of soju. “They told me to invite you guys. I don’t know how big it’s gonna be, or where, for that matter.”

“Is Yoongi-hyung gonna be there?” Jimin asked in a teasing tone, raising his eyebrows at you with a mischievous smirk taking over his plush lips.

“Oppa, I will kill you. That is both a threat and a promise,” you said with a slight snarl. All of your close friends were very aware of the kiss that a very drunk you and a very drunk Yoongi shared three years prior, and they were equally aware of how crushed you were once Yoongi returned to his normal asshole antics. “He doesn’t feel that way towards me, you know that. He can hardly stand being around me. I’m not going to the party for him; I’m going because Seokjin-oppa invited us. Besides, they’re still planning it.”

“Have you ever, I don’t know, asked him why he dislikes you so much?” Jungkook asked, not looking up from the menu as he spoke.

“That’s such a weird thing to ask, though,” you whined. “Imagine if someone went up to you and asked you ‘hey, I’ve known you for most of my life and you still act like I’m the bain of your existence, why is that?’ It’s so odd!”

“I agree with Jungkook,” Wheein said. “You should try to talk to him. At least so you can know why he’s so cold towards you.”

“Asking him would require that he actually wants to talk to me, and he definitely doesn’t.” Your friends were treating your complex relationship with Yoongi as something that could so easily be solved, yet you knew it wasn’t that simple in the slightest. Although you had known these friends for many years, they never seemed to fully understand everything that happened and continued to happen in your time knowing Yoongi. “We’ll just see how the party goes, I guess. Besides, Jinah-unni,” you said, changing the subject to aim your friends’ teasing towards somebody else. “Since Seokjinnie-oppa invited us… are you finally gonna try to talk to him?”

Jinah’s face immediately reddened at your question, her eyes shifting around the table as she choked on her own words. “I… I mean, I want to. I just get so nervous around him. I feel like he’d want to date someone closer to his age. I don’t know, I just don’t wanna be disappointed.

“You should definitely talk to him at the party,” said Wheein. “Maybe even get a New Year’s kiss!”

“Shut up!” Jinah exclaimed with a glare. “You all are awful.”

“Yes, but you love us anyway,” said Taehyung through a chuckle. “Now, what are we gonna do for my birthday?”

The first two weeks of your winter vacation went by quickly, having spent most of it with your high school friends, and your family upon Jiwoo’s arrival. You spent the early half of Christmas Eve exchanging gifts with friends and watching cheesy holiday movies, and then spent the evening and Christmas Day with your immediate family. Taehyung’s birthday party was fun as well, all six of you getting immensely wasted (and maybe Taehyung and Jimin making out, but that’s neither here nor there). You were having the time of your life - and then it was December 31st.

You stared in the mirror, nervously checking over the outfit you picked out for the party as Wheein did Jinah’s makeup on your bed, various palettes, makeup brushes, and product tubes laid out on the fluffy comforter as she carefully worked. The party would be at Seokjin’s family’s house, seeing as it was the largest house of the four party planners, and his parents gladly (or so Seokjin says) gave up the space to their son.

“You look great!” Wheein reassured you as she watched you check over your appearance in the mirror. “Who knows? You might meet someone nice tonight,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” you mumbled. “Jinah-unnie? Are you actually gonna try to talk to Seokjin-oppa tonight?” You needed to talk about something else, anything else, to keep your mind off of Yoongi. You were terrified of seeing him tonight, the third anniversary of the moment you’d rather forget. What if it happened again? What if he snapped at you in front of everyone?

What if he went the rest of his life ignoring you?

“I think I will,” she said with a smile audible in her voice. “I really like him… and if I get rejected, we don’t go to school in the same city, so I don’t have to ever see him again and relive the shame,” she cheered ironically, trying to make light of her nerves.

“I’m sure he’ll give you a try,” Wheein insisted. “Who wouldn’t want you, unnie? If he turns you down, I’m sure there’s plenty of better men out there for you.”

Although you were invested in the conversation, the nerves were still eating away at you. Even as the three of you picked up Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook, even as you arrived at Seokjin’s large, crowded house, even as you took the first tip of the concoction you had your brother surprise you with - you still felt every ounce of nervousness. You compulsively looked around at your surroundings, scouring for Yoongi - so you could try to avoid him, or try to make conversation with him, you weren’t entirely sure yet - but you were only met with some people you recognized from high school, as well as many strangers.

Your friends, save for Jungkook, eventually dispersed - Wheein started talking to some random cute guy she spotted, Jimin went to go do body shots, Taehyung was hitting up an old high school crush, and Jinah finally found the courage to talk to Seokjin. Jungkook knew how nervous you felt at the moment, so he decided to stay with you and talk about random subjects to help calm your nerves until you found Yoongi.

You didn’t have to wait long, however, because pretty soon you saw him approaching you and Jungkook with a wide smile, a soju bottle in hand. “Heyyyyyyy,” he greeted with a slight slur. “You guys having fun?”

You and Jungkook exchanged a brief look of confusion before nodding at his question with awkward smiles. “Hey, uh, Yoongi-oppa… can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Yeah, of course!” he said, taking your hand and dragging you through crowds of college students towards the nearly empty backyard. You were able to turn around for a split second, shooting Jungkook a thumbs up before following closely behind Yoongi. “What’d you wanna talk to me about?”

“I… why are you being so nice to me right now? Why are you only nice to me when you’re drunk?” you asked him, your voice shaky.

“Huh?”

“All you ever do is ignore me or make fun of me and call me a baby. You’ve done that since we were kids. The only times you’ve ever been nice to me are right now and three years ago when you kissed me! And even then, you didn’t remember and said I was making shit up. It fucking hurts Yoongi. I’ve tried so hard to be nice to you, and all you do is shut me down. Why? Why can’t you at least try to be nice to me?” The words spilled out of you, practically unfiltered, tears welling in your eyes as the alcohol in your system made you hyper-emotional.

He blinked, his face void of emotion as he took in everything you just said. The realization hit him all at once, sadness overtaking his face. “I… I’m really sorry.”

“That doesn’t answer my damn question, Yoongi-oppa.”

“Because… I really like you. And I thought you wouldn’t like me because I’m your older brother’s best friend. Wanted to make it easier on myself.”

Your sadness was immediately overtaken by anger. His feelings for you didn’t even matter now that he had confessed his shitty reasoning. “Are you fucking kidding me? You asshole,” you exclaimed at him, watching as he winced at your reaction. “I’ve liked you for years and you made me thinking you fucking hated me. Go fuck yourself, oppa.”

You made your way inside, not looking back and in desperate search to find any of your friends. You found Jinah still talking to Seokjin (seemingly less awkward and nervous than before), Wheein was dancing with some of her other friends from high school, and you found your three boys at the bar together. Their eyes lit up as they saw you approaching, but Jungkook noticed your negative demeanor and rushed over to you.

“It didn’t go well, did it?” he asked with a downturned tone. You shook your head, leaning against Jungkook’s body to bring him into a much-needed hug, nearly breaking down as you felt his arms wrap around you. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I don’t wanna ruin your fun. Stay here, I’ll call a cab,” you insisted. You were about to leave by yourself, but you felt Jungkook grab onto your hand. You turned to face him, and you were met with his warm-hearted smile.

“I’m going with you. I’m not having much fun here, anyway,” he said, flashing his teeth, before turning back to Jimin and Taehyung to let them know that you were both leaving and that you’d explain later if you felt comfortable.

It was a short, quiet ride back to your house; he softly held your hand in the back of the cab, this thumb stroking your cold skin. There were no words between you two, neither of you wanting to have such an important talk with a complete stranger in the driver’s seat; but as soon as you got home to your empty house, you broke down.

“He said he likes me,” you said. “And he didn’t want to get hurt so he pushed me away.”

Jungkook’s facial expressions changed from concerned to annoyed in an instant. “Are you serious? What an ass.” He pulled you into your nth supportive hug of the night. “Fuck him. There’s plenty of better guys out there who won’t treat you like shit just because they like you.”

So you tried to forget about Min Yoongi. You spent the rest of your time at home with your friends, finding any excuse you could to spend time away from home when Yoongi was there hanging out with Hoseok; and you went back to school without talking to him again - letting go of him hurt a lot, but you supposed it didn’t hurt as much as him acting like he hated you for years to mask his feelings. You tried to find boys on your campus to get your mind off of him, many one-night stands following dorm parties, and maybe a few dates here and there, but there was never a spark with any of them. Maybe I’m just destined to be alone and own a hoard of cats. Yeah, that sounds nice. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to see Yoongi over Spring Break because your close friends whisked you away for a week-long trip to Tokyo, Japan to sight-see and get lost in the bright night-life. But when you had finally let go, you just had to see him when you went home for the summer.

You nearly broke down upon seeing him in the living room of your house the night that Hoseok arrived at home, the boys ready to spend their last summer together before entering the real world. He had seen you coming down the stairs, grabbing your shoes from their location near the door, a pang of sadness hitting him as the hazy memories of the New Year’s Eve party that occurred many months prior.

“Y/N?” Yoongi called out to you, though you ignored him, much like he had done to you for the many years he had known you, casually continuing to lace up your sneakers. “Jung!”

“Fuck off,” you grumbled. “I’m not talking to you. See you later, Hoseok-oppa. I’m going to the mall with my friends.”

You were relieved to finally be with all of your friends again - they were the five people who managed to keep you sane, no matter how much you loved your roommate back at college, and you definitely needed some quality time with them knowing that Yoongi could possibly be waiting for you when you got back to your parents’ house. The six of you walked around the mall, popping in to random stores and browsing, making terrible jokes about random objects along the way, before you all decided to go to the food court and grab lunch.

“So,” Taehyung started. “Jinah-noona. How are things with Seokjin-hyung?”

Jinah blushed as she reached over to pick up a dumpling from the large plate that sat in the middle of the rectangular table. “It’s going great. Luckily for me, he’s staying in town, so we’ll be close. He’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, I’ve known him for a while. He’s really a sweet guy. Don’t let go of him,” you chuckled.

“Have you seen Yoongi-hyung lately?” Jimin asked out of nowhere, causing Jungkook to kick him under the table. “What? I just wanna know!”

“Let him Jungkookie-oppa. I saw him before I left my parents’ house. He wanted to talk to me; I just blew him off,” you said with a shrug. “I plan on spending the rest of my summer ignoring him. If I’m lucky, he’ll take a hint.”

“There's not any cute guys on your campus?” Wheein asked.

“I’ve tried hook-ups and dates but… I don’t know, I haven’t found anyone I like.”

“I think you should try to talk to Yoongi-hyung,” said Jimin. “Maybe he’s realized how shitty he made you feel. He’s just graduated college, I’m sure that’s been a big wake-up call for him.”

You thought about Jimin’s words, thinking about both sides of the singular Yoongi-shaped coin, which just so happened to be the same shape as the void in your heart - on one side, it could be a wonderful, loving relationship, because he’s shown that deep-down, he’s quite the softie. But, on the other hand, you barely knew him outside of what you had seen of him through the minimal amounts of time he had acted like himself around you, like when he was gaming with his friends, or watching terribly made movies with Hoseok in the middle of the night. You had the entire afternoon to make your decision, or at least that’s the time limit you gave yourself because the feeling of loneliness and missing Yoongi was starting to eat away at you. You had to act on it

You arrived home later that night to see that Yoongi had gone home; but luckily for you, he only lived a few houses down. You found him outside in front of his house with the Min family dog, the toy poodle known as Holly, playing tug-of-war with a bright blue and green braided rope toy.

“Yoongi-oppa,” you called out quietly, standing a few feet away from him. “We should talk.”

He sighed to himself, standing up from his spot on the concrete driveway. “Yeah, we should. Look, I’m really so-”

“I’m going to give you one chance, oppa. I need to see that you’re actually going to treat me like a human being and that you’re not using feelings as an excuse to be an asshole to me. I don’t need an apology, I just need something real,” you said, interrupting his apology.

He looked shocked, not quite expecting your response. “I- yeah. Yeah, no, of course. I promise I’ll do right by you. I promise,” he rambled. “I’m still sorry, though. I spent the entire second half of my senior year really fucked up over what I did. It doesn’t even make any fucking sense. It made sense to high school Yoongi, but I don’t know why it continued. I’m sorry.”

“Oppa, it’s ok. Calm down. I forgive you, but just remember you’re on thin ice. You need to show me that you can be a good lover,” you said with a warm smile.

“I promise I won’t let you down.

He split his summer between hanging out with Hoseok and hanging out with you, which meant he ended up spending most of his time at your family’s house. He managed to make good on his promise, doing both large and subtle things to show you how much he cared, whether it be taking you out to nice dinners, or cuddling you during movie nights with all of your friends. His kisses were just as amazing as you had remembered from over three years ago, and he made you feel so warm around him - the spark that you had failed to find in your time apart had been ignited by him, and you never wanted to forget the feeling.

Summer fled nearly as fast as it arrived, and you feared that shortly you’d have to be returning to your campus, cities away from Yoongi. He was now part of the list of people who you missed dearly while you were away, along with your best friends, but this would be your first summer away from him as your lover.

“I want to have sex,” you blurted out as you lied on your bed one hot afternoon, about a week before you had to drive back to your campus.

“Come again?” he asked, evidently shocked by your out-of-the-blue confession.

“We have a week before I leave, and I wanna fuck before I go,” you said bluntly with a shrug, turning on your stomach, the thin straps of your tank top sliding down your shoulders - not planned or intended, but you were very appreciative of gravity in that moment. “We don’t have to.”

“N-no, I want to. I really want to,” he admits. “Just… I tend to be a bit rough. I don’t wanna make you do something you’d be uncomfortable with, or hurt you, or…” he trailed off.

“Oppa, you realize we went to the same high school, right? And Hoseok-oppa and I share a wall? I’ve heard all about what you’e like, both from you and, er, outside sources. I’m well prepared,” you said with a chuckle, moving over to straddle him, watching his body language to see if he tensed up, but he instead brought his large hands to your hips, his fingers fiddling with the top hem of your athletic shorts.

“Oh yeah? What have you heard about me?”

“You’re quite large, a little bit of a sadist, have a good tongue… never heard of a girl who’s had to fake it with you,” you said, trailing a finger up his side until your hand was cupping his jaw, and you leaned down to kiss him. By now, his hands had trailed lower, now resting on your ass, gently gripping and guiding your hips to move against him, the hardness beneath your core growing as you moved against him.

“Hm, you’ll just have to find that out for yourself, won’t you?” he teased, his sentences becoming more breathy as you ground against his hardening cock. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We won’t see each other for another few months, honey. I want to do it now before we have to wait until December,” you said. You saw up, pulling the plain grey tank top over your head, your sports bra following soon after, smirking as you watched Yoongi bite his lip at the sight of your bare chest. He reached forward, gently brushing his thumbs over your nipples, watching intently as they hardened beneath his touch, much like his cock beneath you as you continued moving your hips. Without warning, he flipped you over so you were beneath him, and he quickly tore his own t-shirt and gym shorts off before grabbing your own shorts and underwear and quickly removing them.

He wasted no time lowering himself to be face-level with your cunt, delivering an experimental lick to your swollen clit before going all in, shoving two fingers into your wet pussy as he sucked on your clit. His tongue was definitely better than any old high school rumor could have set you up to believe - so many other boys had disappointed you in this department, leading to equally many faked orgasms, but you already knew that you would not have to fake with Yoongi. His fingers curled perfectly against your walls, hitting the sweet spot within perfectly; in combination with his skilled tongue, you were sure it wouldn’t be long before you came.

You felt him insert a third finger into your heat, his tongue not letting up as he quickened the pace of his fingers. The stimulation was causing your thighs to shake, and your back to arch off of your bed as the knot in your stomach continued to tighten.

“O-oppa… I wanna cum with you inside me,” you said, running your fingers through his soft black hair. 

He peered up at you from between your legs, only his darkened eyes visible to you as he pressed one more kiss to your clit before removing his fingers. He sucked each finger into his mouth, tasting your essence once more before speaking. “You taste fucking amazing, by the way. Do you have any condoms here?”

“There should be some in my nightstand,” you said.  You rolled over to your nightstand, opening the singular drawer and rummaging through; and luckily for you, you managed to find some. You grabbed one and handed it off to Yoongi, watching him hastily pull down his briefs so he could put the condom on.

It was at this moment that you understood every piece of gossip you had heard regarding his bedroom abilities. To put it simply, he was huge, but to elaborate, he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen: long, a slight upwards curve, a few veins, and a pretty red tip that was leaking pre-cum. He put the condom on over his length - luckily you had grabbed the right size - and he lined himself up against your entrance. He looked to you for assurance that you were ready and wanted him, smiling at your shy nod, and he pushed forward slowly so you could adjust to his size.

“Oppa?” you asked as he bottomed out. He looked at you with mild concern, hoping he hadn’t already hurt you. “Don’t hold back.” He smirked at your request, asking you if you were sure you were making the right choice, and once you gave him the reassurance, he started thrusting in and out at a quicker pace than he had initially planned. He filled you perfectly, almost as if he were made for you. It was a tight fit, but the type of tight where it left the pleasurable feeling of being stretched out rather than the feeling of being torn open. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you so you could feel him hitting you deeper.

“You feel so good,” he groaned out. He buried his head in your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin before softly biting you, which caused you to whine in pleasure. “Hm, you like it when I bite you, don’t you?” Yoongi didn’t need an answer. He already knew, judged by how whiney you became after the bite, so he returned to the same spot on your neck, biting a bit harder than before.

“I-I’m close,” you moaned, the stretch of his cock in your tight pussy mixed with the sensation of him biting you were too much at once. Your moans became more persistent - thank God nobody else is home - as you grew closer to your climax. Yoongi quickened the pace and intensity of his movements, his cock railing against your g-spot with every harsh thrust; and one he reached between your bodies to rub your clit, you were done for. You came undone in an instant; however, he didn’t slow down at all. He kept fucking into you, kept rubbing your clit, the contracting of your pussy around him bringing him closer to the edge himself. The persistent stimulation was too much for you, making you scream out at the overstimulation, and pretty soon you found yourself experiencing something that you had never experienced with another person. You squirted around him, which was the catalyst for Yoongi’s own release, his warm seed filling the condom.

“Holy fuck, that was hot,” he said as he looked down between your bodies, seeing both pairs of thighs covered in your juices.

“I’ve never squirted because of another person before,” you admitted, equally shocked as he was at what had just occurred.

“So… I take it I live up to the hype,” he joked as he pulled out of you, chuckling at how you whined at the empty feeling after being stuffed so perfectly, before getting up to throw the condom away and grab some towels from the bathroom connected to your room to clean you up with.

“I think the hype couldn’t live up to you.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Part 2

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Please read Part 1 first.

“I’m not trying that on, you seen the price tag?” Bucky glared at Katie who narrowed he eyes as she held up the Midnight Blue Soho Double Breasted wool suit.

“You are so trying it on Barnes, you’ll look amazing in it.” She insisted. “Trust me, Sam will love it”

“Sam can wear it if he loves it.” Bucky shook his head. “Doll face, it’s almost five hundred bucks!”

“It’s a Paul Smith” she shrugged “You want quality, you gotta pay. Trust me, a good suit is an investment Bucky.”

Bucky considered this for a moment before he cocked his head and a teasing grin spread across his face “Yeah, I suppose. And I can always use it for the next wedding.”

“You’re not getting married in that.” Katie shook her head. “You need a tux.”

“I’m not getting married, you are.” He looked at her and she rolled her eyes, well used to his constant teasing about he and Steve’s future by now.

“Just try on the goddamned suit.”

“Cranky much?” he mumbled.

“May I remind you that I am hungover and you dragged me out here to help you but you keep bitching about everything I suggest. I should be dying on my sofa indulging in indecent amounts of sugar.” Kate narrowed he eyes at him.

“Technically it’s not your sofa. You might have moved in, but…”

“Err, it belongs to Steve and he belongs to me, ergo it’s mine.”

“You know I could argue against that but if I ask him he will probably say of course I’m hers with that stupid goofy smile on his dumb face.”

Katie smirked “Exactly.” She thrust the suit at him “Go. Try. NOW!”

Bucky took the suit “Vicious.”

Leaving Katie glaring at his back he headed into the changing room and quickly stripped before pulling on the suit. And, in all fairness, he had to hand it to Katie, it was smart, probably the nicest one he has ever worn to be fair. It felt good, decent quality and was tailored exceptionally well. Dare he admit it, he looked pretty damned good. He opened the cubicle door and walked out of the changing room to get Stark’s opinion, finding her stood not far away looking at something on her phone, frowning.

“You ok?” he asked, and she nodded, not raising her head, her eyes fixed on the screen.

“Yeah was just looking at some photos that Tony put of the bachelor party on facebook…” she took a breath and looked at Bucky “How did Steve really get that black eye? I can tell he is lying to me.”

Ah, crap… should have seen that one coming Barnes.

He let out a sigh “Ask him”

“I did, and now I’m asking you.”

He groaned, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get out of this. Fuck you, Steve, fuck you.

“Fine, I’ll tell you if you promise not to freak out.” He looked at Katie who nodded.

“Promise”

“Why don’t I believe you? And if you say anything to Steve I’ll bug your bedroom and post the recordings on my Instastories”

“I said I wouldn’t flip out at you.” She looked at him “That’s all I’m promising, but seeing as we’re making threats, James,  if you don’t tell me I’ll also post a video. The one I got of you singing into a wooden spoon the other morning to The Sound Of Music”

Bucky felt his mouth drop open in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me bitch.” She shook her head “It will go under the caption of Bucky Von Crapp, seeing as you sounded like a strangled cat.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, as he began to recall the events of the previous night.

“Be your bachelor party next.” Bucky grinned at Steve as they stood at the bar in the compound.

Steve rolled his eyes “Just don’t.”

“Come on punk, you know it ain’t that far-fetched.” Bucky grinned and turned to order their drinks. Just as he was paying he heard Steve muttering to the side of him.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

Frowning he turned to look at Steve, whose jaw was twitching. His nostrils flared as he’s glared at something, or someone. Bucky followed his eyeline and saw a tall, slim, dark haired man dressed in a white button down and black slacks, stood with a group of other guys.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” he turned back to Steve, a puzzled expression on his face.

“I wish I didn’t know who it is. It’s Ward.” Steve replied simply.

Bucky’s frown deepened as he looked back at the man, then turned once more to Steve “As in Stark’s douchebag ex Ward?”

“In the flesh.”

Bucky took the beer from the bartender with a thanks and looked Ward over again “He looks like a dick.”

Besides him Steve picked up his beer, “If it looks like a dick…” at that point Ward let out a huge laugh, “And sounds like a dick…”

Bucky snorted and watched as a slim, bottle blonde woman in a tight skirt and very revealing top approached Ward. Ward smiled and looped an arm round her, giving her a kiss.

“Wait…is that who he did the dirty on Stark with?” Bucky looked at Steve.

The Captain nodded.

“Talk about a down grade.” Bucky shook his head “She ain’t a patch on your girl Stevie.”

“I know, thanks pal.” Steve gave a small smile then sighed “If Tony sees him….” He glanced around for the man in question to see him stood with a few other members of the Batchelor Party, looking the other way.

“Why is he even in here? I thought Pepper vetoed him after the incident on the karaoke night?” Bucky asked.

“She did. But Happy isn’t working is he? He’s over there drinking with Tony, and Pepper aint here either so… “ Steve took a breath and frowned “I don’t get it, why would he want to come here anyway? And how would he know he’d get in…unless…he found out about the party somehow…”

“Probably just a coincidence.” Bucky offered.

“I don’t believe in coincidences Buck.” Steve looked at him. Bucky held his gaze for a moment before he turned back in Ward’s direction and took a deep breath as he saw the man in question’s eyes flick towards them. A sly grin spread across Ward’s face and he said something to the woman who nodded as he began to head towards them.

“Well, looks like we’re about to find out.” Bucky muttered. Steve turned to him, followed his gaze and the rolled his eyes, turning back to the bar.

Ward stopped at the other side of the bar, placing his order before he remarked. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t even look at him when he replied “What are you doing here Ward?”

“Same as you, having a good time with some friends.” He gestured back to the group he had been with “ I see it’s Tony’s bachelor party. Pepper, I presume?”

Steve continued to ignore him.

“Give him my regards.”

At that, Steve turned his head in Ward’s direction just long enough to shoot him a filthy look before he picked up his drink.

“Come on Rogers, you still bitter at me?”

Steve swallowed a mouthful of his beer “Bitter isn’t exactly the word I would use” his voice was flat, unemotional, and Bucky knew that was far more dangerous than when he displayed out and out anger.

Time to step in.

“Look, jack ass…” Bucky pulled himself up to his full height and glared at Ward. “Why don’t you go and talk to Tony yourself. Sure he’d be thrilled to see you after what you did to his sister.”

Ward looked down at Bucky, there was a few inches height difference but it didn’t bother the Sergeant in the slightest. He knew if it came to it he could handle his own.

“And you are?” Ward raised his eyebrows.

“Barnes. Sergeant James Barnes.”

“That’s quite a mouthful Sergeant.” Ward mused. “And, speaking of mouthfuls. How’s Katie doing Rogers?”

Steve gripped his beer bottle tighter, an action Bucky saw in the corner of his eye. “Don’t you even mention her name asshole.”

“Are you ever gonna man up and ask her out?” Ward shook his head and at that Steve turned to face him.

“I’m warning you. Stop talking about her.”

At his words a smirk spread across Ward’s face. “Oh my god, you finally did…you two are…you’re together.”

Steve simply stared at him as Bucky grinned, unable to stop himself from speaking the childish insult that had cropped into his head.

“Well I know which one of you got the short straw, I mean you didn’t exactly trade Stark in for a better model did you? Certainly not from the looks of your poor man’s Dolly Parton over there anyway.”

To his delight the smug grin on Ward’s face slipped and a flash of anger was noticeable in his eyes.

Steve lay his a hand on Bucky’s shoulder “Leave it pal, he’s not worth it.”  But it was too late, Ward has bitten back, rising to Bucky’s jibe.

“Don’t you dare talk about my fiancé that way.”

And at that Steve snorted “Fiancé? Seriously?”

Ward glared at him “You got something to say Rogers?”

“Nothing at all.” Steve chuckled. “I wish her luck, she’s gonna need it.” With that he picked up his bottle “Come on Buck.”

Steve turned to go and Bucky looked Ward up and down one more time, smirking, before he to made to follow Steve.

Crisis averted.

“Hey, Rogers? She’s a good fuck isn’t she?”

Crisis re-emerging.

Steve stopped, his shoulders tense and he took a deep breath, but didn’t turn round.

“Does she still do that thing with her nose? You know, just as she’s about to come? That little twich?” Ward continued, letting out a little groan “Man even thinking about that now does things to me…I kinda miss it.”

At that Steve spun around, blazing with anger ready to go for Ward but he was too late. Bucky had already shoved the asshole hard in the chest.

“You’re really starting to piss me off.” He growled as Ward stumbled back a few steps. Bucky clocked that some of his friends were now walking towards them, and was distracted slightly when Ward shoved him back. Bucky then spotted the swing that was coming his way and ducked. Unfortunately Steve, who was stood behind him, took the punch straight to the left side of his face. The Captain staggered a few steps backwards before he righted himself and then drew his right fist back and smacked it straight into Ward’s nose. Ward dropped to the floor, blood billowing down his shirt as Steve shook his fist out, flexing his fingers.

Bucky blinked as Ward lay on the floor, the force of Steve’s punch knocking him out cold and he turned to his friend, raising an eyebrow a little “I had him on the ropes.”

“I know you did.” Steve looked at his friend before he sighed “Suppose we better call 911 so they can get him on a gurney…”

Katie blinked as Bucky finished his tale. “So it was Ward?”

Bucky nodded “You understand why he didn’t want to tell you now, yeah?”

“I guess so” she bit her lip.

“I gotta ask, what the fuck did you ever see in him?” Bucky shook his head “Tony’s right, the guy is a shitweasel.”

She snorted “Trust me, I have no idea.”

Silence fell between the two of them and Bucky took a deep breath “You’re not mad are you?”

“Mad? No, I just think you’re a pussy for dodging the punch and letting Stevie take it Barnes.” She teased, smiling at him.

He shrugged “First time for everything.”

“Suppose I’ll have to thank you both for defending my honour.” She smiled, before her smile turned into a dirty smirk “But your thanks will be a little less physical than Steve’s.”

Bucky groaned “Gross.” He then looked at her, narrowing his eyes “You promised not to tell him I told you.”

“No I promised not to go mad.” She stated.

Bucky looked at her, contemplating her words before he realised that was in fact what she had said. He let out a growl of frustration and shook his head “Whatever.”

At that point they both heard a low whistle and turned to see Sam striding through the men’s boutique towards them.

“Well look at you sergeant Barnes, you’re gonna kill all the ladies”  Sam grinned, raising his hand and extending his finger and thumb in a gun motion “Pew pew!”

Katie turned to Bucky, smiling “Told you he was gonna love it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before he smirked and turned to Sam “Not the ladies I’m after.” And with that he gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Aww you two are so cute.” Katie clapped her hands together.

“Piss off Stark” Bucky shot back.

“Now who’s cranky?” she laughed “I tell you you’re cute and you get all pissy!”

Bucky shook his head “I’m gonna get out of this suit.”

“Need any help.” Sam quipped and Katie arched an eyebrow.

“Guess I’ll be right there at the opposite side of the store, pretending I don’t know you two.”

“Now you know how I feel around you and Stevie.” Bucky looked at her.

Katie laughed “You know, the 4 of us should go out again soon.”

“Yeah, but without the element of surprise this time.” Sam shot her and Bucky an accusatory look

“Well it’s all out in the open now. But I kinda miss the sneaking around…it was a little exciting.” Katie shrugged.

“Seriously?” Sam looked at her and she snorted.

“No, it was hell.” And then she grinned “Although the secret sex was good.”

“Tell me more girl.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows and Bucky shook his head.

“Trust me you don’t want to know”

“Oh, trust me I do.”

“And on that note, now I’m really gonna go get changed.” Bucky nodded towards the changing rooms “Then we can drop you home so you can die on the sofa.”

“Actually I need you to drop me off at Momma Rogers’” she said.

“Oooh you having lunch at Sarah’s?” Bucky smiled, knowing full well that he’d end up with an invite when he dropped her off.

“Yup, and I can’t wait.” She said, “I need food. My stomach feels like its eating itself.”

***** Steve walked into his Ma’s, stamping his feet on the mat, ridding his boots of the light dusting of snow he’d picked up since getting out of the car.

“Ma?” he gave a shout as he unwrapped the scarf from round his neck and began to undo his thick, blue quilted Canada Goose jacket. She emerged out of the kitchen into the hall and beamed at him, but her smile slipped and she nodded to his face.

“I thought the days of you coming home with a black eye were well behind you.” She stared at him “What the hell did you do?”

“Things got a bit messy at Tony’s stag party” he shrugged as his mom gently reached up to cup his cheek, tilting his face round so she can see it better. “Don’t fuss ma.”

“Shut up Steven.” Sarah’s voice was as stern as her face “I’m your mother and I’ll fuss if I want to.”

Steve rolled his eyes as her hand dropped back to her side. “Has Star seen this?”

“We live together. Of course she has.”

“Hmm, bet she didn’t like it either.” Sarah shot back “Good job you’re a fast healer. That would look a right mess in the wedding photos next week.”

“He came off worse, trust me.” Steve shrugged off her comment.

“You’re a Captain in the NYPD Steven, fancy brawling in a bar like some school kid.” His mother shook her head.

“I know ma, but…well it had to be done, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He urged, hoping she would take the hint and drop it but of course she didn’t.

“What do you mean it had to be done?” she pressed and Steve knew he wasn’t going to be able to fob her off so decided to tell her the truth.

“Ward showed up last night at the compound. He was saying vile things about Katie. Really vile”

“So you punched him?” Sarah deadpanned.

“No, I mean yes, after he took a swing at Bucky…look, it’s really not a big deal.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes “I really don’t like that boy. Tony isn’t particularly fond of him either.”

“That’s because he’s a prick.” Steve shrugged.

“Language Steven. But yes, he is a prick. Now, let me get you some tea.”

Steve followed her into the kitchen and she filled the kettle and Steve started rummaging in the fridge for a snack.

“You know it’s funny his name is Grant.”

Steve emerged with a piece of pie that he had found and looked at her “What do you mean?” He took a bite of the pie which turned out to be cherry. It was good.

“I mean you both share the name and couldn’t be more different from one another.” His mother mused.

Steve swallowed his food. “Well, not all the ladies called Sarah are as pretty as you…or make as good a pie as you.”

Sarah smiled at her son, shaking her head. “Shut up Stevie.”

He chuckled “What you making for lunch?” he asked as he checked his watch to see it was almost 1. Kate had text him about 15 minutes ago to say they were leaving the store in Brooklyn City centre so she shouldn’t be far off.

“I take it that means you’re staying then?” Sarah turned to look at him and he grinned, as she shook her head, smiling to herself “Oh, and where is Star by the way?”

“She’s gone shopping with Bucky for a suit. Told her to meet me here if that’s ok? She shouldn’t be long.”

“Of course it’s ok. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Steve smiled, swallowed the last of his pie and took a deep breath. He knew that he didn’t have long to do what he needed to do before Katie arrived so he had to do it now. “Er, Ma, before she gets here, I err, I wanted to talk to you.” He said, his hand gently rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” she asked, not looking at him as she reached for 2 mugs in the cupboard.

“Yeah…” god his palms were sweaty, this shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it was, it’s his mom…

Sarah turned to face him, a mug still in her right hand and she frowned at the expression on his face. “What is it son? What’s wrong?

“Nothing’s wrong. Quite the opposite actually.” He took another deep, shaky breath and smiled at his mom. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these last few days especially, and, well, with Katie living with me for the past few months it’s kinda hit home just how good it feels, ya know? And I want it all the time…so before I came here, I went to ask Tony for his blessing to ask Katie to marry me.” At his words he watched the mug slip from his mother’s fingers and it hit the tiled floor and smashed. He had expected her to react in some way but not quite like that. “Ma you ok?” He watched as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok Stevie…it’s just…” she blinked “I’ve been waiting for this day to arrive for so long.”

Steve couldn’t resist teasing her “I didn’t say he had given his blessing.”

His mom looked at him, arching an eyebrow “Would it make a difference to you if he hadn’t?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, smiling softly.

“But he has right?” Sarah looked at him “Because I know Howard and Maria would be as happy as I am right now.”

Steve smiled softly. “Yeah. He did. Long Story, but…let’s just say I know Howard would be happy too. But don’t get too excited, she hasn’t said yes yet.”

Sarah scoffed “Oh hush, like she’s gonna say no!”

He smiled softly before he looked at his feet before he glanced back at his mother “So, Ma, I was…I was wondering if I could have you ring?”

Sarah smiled, her eyes shining as she gave a nod “Of course you can son.” She walked towards him and cupped his face “It’s been waiting for you for years.”

Steve smiled, the lump that he had earlier felt in his throat in Tony’s study was back again as he looked at his mom. “You know, there was a time I thought I’d ask you for it for Peggy.”

Sarah shook her head and with a simply shrug stated “I always knew it would be Star’s”

The sentiment hit Steve like a tonne of bricks. First Howard, now his mom. The man he had long since come to regard as a father and his mother had both spotted what he had failed to see for almost a decade.

“Ma…” he managed to choke out, his eyes filling and Sarah smiled.

“I know son. And it makes me so happy to know you’re happy too. Finally.” She leaned up to give him a huge and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the kitchen leaving Steve to his own thoughts. He’d had a few doubts, not about marrying Katie, but whether or not it was too soon, but that fact that neither Tony nor his mother had commented on the fact that they’d only technically been together for 3 months. In reality they’d been with one another for much longer, having been best friends and dare he say it, completely and utterly blind to what was in front of them. There wasn’t a woman in the world that would ever come close. He smiled to himself, suddenly his eye didn’t hurt anymore. After speaking to Tony and his ma, and most importantly Howard’s message he felt like he was living his life how he should be. He had everything he has ever wanted, and more.

Sarah walked back into the room and handed him a black velvet ring box. He opened it, smiling as he took in the ring which sat nestled in the ruby red silk inside of the box. It was a large oval shaped diamond, with a pave set slim band. It was delicate enough to suit his girl but also big enough to be flashy, which he knew she wouldn’t care about but he did. There was something in his ego that wanted Katie to have a decent rock on her finger. But the main thing about it was the sentiment. This had belonged to his great-grandmother, then his grandmother, and now his mother, passed down the Roger’s side of the family for generations until it reached his Pa. He looked at his mom, his eyes straying to her ring finger where she still wore her simple wedding band having stopped wearing her engagement ring some 5 years or so after his father had died. When he had asked her why, she’d sighed and simply said that on what would have been their 10th wedding anniversary seeing it had made her sad as it reminded her of the day his father proposed. He hadn’t pushed her to explain, he understood.

“You know it was pretty unheard of to have a diamond that big back when your great-grandfather bought but, well, you know the Rogers side had some connections so to speak.” She said and Steve snorted. He had a feeling if he dug far enough back into his father’s side of the family he would uncover all sorts of Irish-Italian mob members, which was the reason he had never bothered.

“I forgot how pretty it is” Steve smiled “It’s been years since I last saw it. But I remember how I used to play with it when I was little and you held me in your arms when I was sick.” Sarah smiled fondly “Yes you used to like to roll it around my finger.”

“It was soothing.” Steve said, his eyes on the ring as it sparkled in the light of the kitchen. “I liked how it shone under the light.”

“Maybe one day your kids will do the same to Star.” Sarah said, a little suggestion in her tone and Steve looked at her.

“I’d like that Ma.” He confirmed and she took a deep breath.

“Well, I hope it happens soon.” The looked at him pointedly “I’m getting old Steve and I want to be able to run around after my grandkids.”

“Behave!” Steve laughed, shutting the box as he looked at her, smirking “There’s plenty of life in the old dog yet.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him “Cheeky.”

At that point they were interrupted by the bell ringing followed by the opening of the door and Katie’s voice drifted up the hallway. “You’re such an ass Barnes, I ain’t rung the bell at this house for 9 and a half years!”

His best friend’s laugh hit his ears “ I like the sound it makes.”

Steve glanced at his mom, panic flooding his system as he curled his hand around the box.

“I’ll go see them in…buy you some time.” She nodded. As she walked out of the kitchen he heard her greeting Katie as he hastily stashed the ring box in his coat pocket where it was hanging on the chair back

“Oh, err…” he heard his mom stop and Bucky spoke.

“Sorry, Mrs R, this is…”

“I know who he is James, Sam worked with Steve long before you came back from Russia. I just didn’t know he was your Sam.”

“Sure am, Mrs Rogers. Nice to see you again.

At that point Katie walked into the Kitchen, pulling off her hat and her scarf, her cheeks pink from the cold. Steve smiled and opened his arms. “Hey sweetheart, you feeling better?”

She stepped into his embrace, taking the soft kiss he offered “Much, be even better still when I’ve eaten.”

He smiled and looked up at Bucky as Katie stepped back to take off her coat. “Get a suit, jerk?”

Bucky dropped his jacket onto a chair “Yeah and a pair of shiny shoes your girl insists are in fashion.”

Katie rolled her eyes “He looks good in it right Sam?”

“He sure does but…”

“Don’t say it Sam!” Bucky warned, and Steve had a feeling he knew what was coming next. And sure enough…

“He looks better out of it.”

Katie looked at Steve “See what I’ve had to put up with? Had to pretend I didn’t know em.”

“Welcome to the grossed out by another couple club, doll face.” Bucky looked at her and she rolled her eyes as Sarah laughed.

“They can’t still be that bad James.”

“The tales I could tell you about these two from the last week or so alone are NOT suitable for a Mom’s ears Mrs R.”

“Shut up Bucky.” Katie and Steve shot back in synergy.

“And they do that. Talk at the same time, say the same thing…” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s kinda freaky.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“You can shut up too Sam.” Steve looked at him.

“Hey don’t look at me. I do what he does…” he pointed to Bucky “only slower.”

Bucky glanced around, spotted the smashed mug on the tiles and pointed to it “What happened there?”

Steve looked at the mug, recalling the reason why it had smashed and was desperately trying to think of an excuse when his mom came to the rescue.

“Oh, I was making a tea and along came Stevie with his black eye and my mug slipped.”  She looked at Bucky “By the way, James, Steve says you were involved too. Seems like the pair of you are back to being troublesome teenagers again.” She looked at Sam “I’d keep an eye on your boyfriend Sam. He needs to be put in check some times.”

Steve and Katie share a glance at Sarah’s use of the word boyfriend. It was a term Bucky hadn’t actually used when referring to Sam.

“He’s not my, we’re not…” Bucky trailed off as Sam glared at him.

“Well this is awkward.” He mumbled as Sarah narrowed her eyes

“You can’t lie to me James Barnes. You love this young man.”

And just like that Steve found himself smirking at the fact that someone was ripping into Bucky’s and not his relationship for a change

**** Of course Sarah wouldn’t dream of allowing Bucky and Sam to leave without being fed so the 5 of them ate lunch and then before the two men headed off to spend the rest of the afternoon together. As usual, Sarah insisted that Katie and Steve leave her to clear up so they retired to the living room and curled up on the sofa. The fire was on, giving the room a cosy, warm feel and Katie was sitting snuggled up to Steve, curled under a blanket.

After about 10 minutes her attention turned from the TV to his face. Steve could feel her eyes on him and he turned to face her as she sat up and her fingers gently caressed his eye and cheekbone.

“Does it hurt?” she asked him quietly.

“It did, not anymore.” He replied honestly.

“Good, close your eyes.” She instructed. Steve arched an eyebrow at her but did as he was told. She kisses his eyelid and around his bruise tenderly, her breath warm on his skin “Really Stevie” she took  his face in both her hands and tiled it left, then right “ I’m so jealous of your eyelashes”

He laughed and opened his eyes, his hand running up the outside of her arm where it rest over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She looked at him

“For what, doll?”

“For punching Ward.”

Steve looked at her, shaking his head “Fucking Bucky.”

“That’s Sam’s job” Katie said making him chuckle a little “Don’t be mad at him, I pushed him into telling me.”

“Should have figured you would.” He shrugged.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you can be persistent when you want to be sweetheart.” He smiled gently. “And you’re welcome. I’d do it again in a shot, you have no idea how good it felt.”

“My hero.” She smiled, “Guess not all superheroes wear capes, huh? Mind you, I’m not sure Superman would go around punching Lois Lane’s ex…”

“For the record, Superman does wear a cape, but that aside, even Superheroes have bad days doll.” Steve shrugged.

“You know, that’s a kid’s bedtime story.” She looked at him and he shot her a cheeky grin.

“I can read it to you tonight if you like?”

“How about you read it to me now Captain?” she arched an eyebrow as he looked down at her. Grinning he sat back against the cushions and pat his leg, gesturing with his head.

“Come here Doll.”

Katie moved so she was straddling him, her hands smoothed up his chest to his shoulder and his fell to her hips. Both of them threw a glance to the door of the room, conscious Sarah was in the kitchen, but there was no sign of her, Steve could hear her humming to a song vaguely in the kitchen and knew she would be in there for a while. He leaned up, pressing his lips to Katie’s, his hands moving and splaying on her back, pulling her closer.

Somehow it felt different to him. It was the first kiss they’d shard since he asked Tony and his ma those two important questions and it was almost like there was more to it, even though he never thought that would be possible. It struck him that the decision he had come to about asking her to share the rest of his life with her meant he would never kiss anyone else but her again but he didn’t care he didn’t want to.

He pushed up against her and she let out a soft sigh at the contact and rocked her hips slightly. An involuntary grunt slipped from his lips and the kiss grew frantic, for the moment the pair of them forgetting where they were until they heard a plate clatter in the kitchen. Both paused, their eyes opening as they looked at one another before they let out a soft laugh each, the ridiculousness of the situation not passing them by. Both in their 30s, acting like a pair of teenagers.

“How long has it been since you made out with a girl in here?” Katie teased.

Steve hesitated, in all honesty he had no idea. It had been a long time. “Erm, maybe 20 years, a little less?” he shrugged and Katie frowned.

“What, you mean you and Peggy didn’t…”

Steve shook his head “It wasn’t really something she would have done. She was too…proper I suppose is the word.”

Katie cocked her head to one side as if she was considering something before she shrugged “Her loss.”

“Can we not talk about her doll?” Steve said gently. He really didn’t want to think about anything like that. His hands moves and slid up and down the outside of her thighs and he smiled “It’s you and me now. No Peggy, no Ward…and I intend on keeping it that way till the end of the line.”

Katie smiled and her hands moved up to cup his cheeks, fingers scratching in his beard. “I love you Captain.”

Steve leaned up pressing his lips to hers gently before he pulled back, sliding his nose along hers as he whispered to her softly “Love you too doll.”

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

Pan? Polysexual sounds better now

Back to guys, gay girls, nonbinaries, pan, bi, gender-fluid, and queer people.

I might have to take a recap on matches who are trans for right now,

I still have a lot to learn about what my true identity is for right now.

Because I really can't stick to just one label...

Aye, that's just me. And dating apps are starting to feel like a job, there's too many people matching with me and trying to remember names is getting a lot to handle when you're on 3 different apps and about 20 conversations going at the same time. And still 99 people waiting on you to swipe right on them, on each one. And plus I'm not as picky about looks as I was before, so I'm mostly reading just bios, analyzing photos to see what could be their interests in, and making sure I'm not being too passive on red flags when people talk to you.

I will admit, I still swipe right on them if they're trans and I'm attracted to them. I just know me, I'd rather date someone who was fully transitioned or somebody who is still on the nonbinary, before part. Only because I know me.

I had to watch someone I had already grown into getting to know and getting attached to, and then when I finally got comfortable with them for over a yr, they changed that drastically during those 3months we were separate and I had no idea about it.....I'm not sure if I could watch it happen before my eyes. Cause then I would have to miss the way they were before, because of my attraction to their naturally mixed feminine/masculine looking features and actions. So, ideally I wouldn't have changed anything about them.

I don't wanna grow attached to a voice or a face or a body that will no longer be there tomorrow. I know that person before is still in there, but it's different when you're romantically attracted to them, been intimate with them vs when you're just a friend. My experience shocked and scared my paranoia and fear of change. I remember crying when my dad started growing white and grey hairs in his beard. Cause I never want my dad to change, cause I've grown up with him being this strong man that always was there for me, held me, made me feel safe, calmed me down when I had my moments, and tucked me in when I wanted to feel comfortable. He showed me that he always loved me, always cared about me, and that he was never gonna leave me. As if he's never gonna die during my time on this earth. Seeing his greyishly, white hairs, I thought death and that my daddy will soon no longer be the fun, happy, strong dad that I've always been with as his princess. And that's kind of what vibe this particular person was to me, even though they weren't as smart, strong, or always there for me....cause most of the time my nights alone cause they couldn't or didn't know I needed them to be there fo r me like that to feel loved or just to feel wanted. Cause I couldn't speak up.

But now, that they has turned into a he. I feel like its brutally denying me to chance to not only say goodbye to them as they, but I would have to get reacquainted to HE, with a totally different name, maybe different personality, maybe different sexuality, and I won't know if I like the new evolved version of this person. The fear of the unknown is high for me. Especially when there's a 40% rate of fems that decided to change their sexual orientation after taking testosterone. I 'm possessive about my partners and I would hate to know that after seeing this person physically change and go through so much emotional/mental changes that one day they decide "Hey, I think I like men now, I wanna give this a shot. Could we make this work?"

I would tell Him, to go right ahead and go on a date with that coworker or guy on Tinder/Grinder. But I'm not gonna be here when you come home. Because to me that's some bullshit. And I've known this person well enough to know, that they don't mind using other people to meet their sexual needs that I can't possibly give them due to my actual gender and my body as such. I wouldn't want to share my partner, nor watch them get fucked by another man...because I'm not a man, im a woman...theres a huuuuuugggeeee difference.

And if it ever came to that point 3 yrs later and He became someone I didn't know anymore, because of the hormones changing how they feel as a man, dysphoria gone....I get it, you've hated yourself for years and now you're happy in the dream body you always asked for. But, I would be scared to lose you, to whoever else you decide to open up to in your selections. Cause you're that type to leave to please you and not make it work. I don't want somebody who changes their mind all the time about who they wanna be, who else do they wanna smash, and who else they can flirt with. That's cheater mentality.

And I'm sorry trans community that I'm basing my recent experience with someone as the example for the rest of you. Because I know there are some ftm's who've already changed and stayed with their partners. I just don't know if I could trust this process, knowing the effects, the research on whether or not they become completely detached to women or become bisexual... I can't.

And I'm thankful for the ftm's that have been posting youtube videos and tiktoks for viewers like me who are curious about the possible cons, and physical or emotional changes they've overcome. I was shocked the first time I ever watched a bandaged ftm, who finally unrevealed their scars from top surgery. I've always been preparing myself for this. Because I knew one day, that this cute, fluffy, soft skinned, white latino looking, but really just mixed mocha, nonbinary person was gonna be...changed over a year or so. I thought I could prepare for it, so that when it does happen it doesn't hurt as much to watch to them in pain if the bleeding from the scars are irritating them or if one day they're super cranky and obnoxious for what seems to be no reason. Or if one day they end up feeling they dont need anybody like Zanthos, with the 4 avenger rings lol.

But I'm too damn fucking sensitive. I was born this way. I've always prepared myself with the worst and the best information, that way when it does happen, the tidal wave of emotions from the reaction, doesn't end up torching my soul or blowing me out the water. Cause I am gay. I adore women, men, and when I met this person I loved them as an in-betweener as nonbinary. They are so brutally harsh, twisted, manipulative, jealous, and possesive. But I've always liked that they had these emotions inside of them that they hold back because they don't wanna seem so soft, always hiding this feminine quality about them because ideally, they're pretty looking, gorgeous eyes that can turn black cold like obsidian, and those fucking cheeks and cat nose. I've only seen the slight hips, but I didn't mind it. And they've always hid their body away even when we would try to have sex. I knew the dysphoria was there, cause again I prepared myself to be patient and kind.

So, I'm glad they're turning a new leaf to make themselves feel more confident about being recognized in society as a full, grown ass man. I'm pretty sure HE, is gonna get cocky af, cause that's just the way he was when they were they.

I know it's selfish of me to say, but I'm afraid of what will happen down the line years later. But that's just me being afraid. If He ends up not liking me anymore, I know it won't be the end of the world and I walked away at the right time when I did. Because this person is currently separated from me, and I'm still insecure about that part too. Not knowing how they are during this transition for what may become years or not...I hope HE is doing okay and not piercing everyone with their new, world domination, ego.

I just don't wanna imagine them get fucked by a guy....sorry that's just me. And will their buttery ass kisses, still be as sweet anymore?

Will I be ok with HE having chest hair?

Will I love the sound of their new voice or will I just hate it, while still missing the old, brodie, sexy, slightly feminine voice?

Especially when they used to go all soft and cuddly on me over the phone, it was soooo cuteeee. I miss our phone and text conversations.

Will they grow into another relationship with somebody else because they started to become unattached and unattracted to my body, my tits, my hips, my vagina even....just because they completely changed their identity?

And I still a woman? I've only thought about wearing a binder a couple of times, and yes, I do watch ftm and trans porn because I did like the fantasy of being intimate with someone who had a bigger clit size or just having a big clit of my own that felt like a dick.

I'm willing to admit that. Because let's be honest, boys get away with so much more shit as a male, compared to us females.

I wish I could grow a dick overnight and nobody not know I'm still a chick! Lol, but I still don't like the all over hair body growth and I still want my vagina back. Like a rental suit with an actual dick and no tits. Those are the onllyyyyyyyyy things I've thought about, but would never admit out loud. Only because I still like my body and my gender identity as is. I feel like the blue girl from X-Men could get away with it, cause she can be anybody she wants to and go back to being herself at the end of the day. And still camouflage behind walls. Lucky chick. Especially if she could teleport, oh he'll yeah.

It's gonna take me awhile to get over this, so please be patient with me. As I'm trying not to cry as I watch my ftm porn get fucked by a guy. Cause I used to be heavy into it, now I feel wrong for watching it and then I'm reminded "40% chance, you're watching it" 😞🤮😫