#this is so fucking funny you picked like. the worst day possible to send this

[necrowtic]

Self care checkpoint! Have you had anything to eat and drink today? Did you get eight hours of sleep last night?

actually im on no sleep and the only thing ive consumed in the past 24 hours are a handful of vodka shots. sorry

[lucvly]

can you do hcs of being chris’ gf and also matt’s and nick’s bff

— being chris’ girlfriend + matt and nick’s best friend. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: fluff, cursing, suggestive, not proofread.

a/n: i love this omg?? keep feeding into my delusions please and thank you.

— most times, you help them film their videos. you’re not really in them but they all love it when you’re their camera girl.

— when you’re at their house, you have to hang out in chris’ room, otherwise nick and matt are constantly talking to you.

— sometimes you’ll be in the pool with nick and forget your phone around the house, then when chris comes home looking for you, he just finds you out with nick. (“jesus, i thought you got kidnapped or something.” “by your brother, yeah.”)

— movie nights with chris start off normally, just you two cuddling on his bed and watching a random movie you picked out, but somehow nick and matt end up crashing it. chris gets so pissed because they’re interrupting your date but you have to reassure him that it’s fine.

— you’re always in their photo dumps LMFAOO. most of the time, their comments are filled with “spot y/n challenge go.”

— you and chris can’t have a proper date in his house because nick and matt always crash it. so you end up having to hang out at your place or coming up with outside date ideas (museums, picnics, etc.)

— one time you and chris were making out in his room, you were straddling his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands were on your waist— then suddenly, a loud scream from the door. shit. matt.

— “the door wasn’t even open.” “well it definitely wasn’t shut either, kid.” “shut the fuck up matt.” “dumbass.” “what did you say?”

— sometimes you and chris peacefully fall asleep on call, then you wake up at 3 am because matt stole his phone. he ends up begging you to go to the gas station and get slushies. you do.

— you three have a groupchat LMFAOO chris hates it because matt, nick and you always gang up on him.

— whenever they get in arguments with each other, it’s possibly the worst day of your life. all three of them tell you their side of the argument. (of course you side with your boyfriend, but you appreciate their trust in you LMFAOO.)

— you’ll get calls at midnight from matt asking you to get rid of chris because he’s being extremely annoying. followed up by a call from chris telling you to not listen to matt.

— you go with them on tour obviously. you and chris sleep together despite both of you having your own little bed.

— i feel like chris would be the clingiest boyfriend ever gn, especially if you’re best friends with his brothers LMFAOO.

— you’re always hanging around his house without him even knowing it. this one time he was out for whatever reason and when he came back he found you and matt in the backyard playing pokemon go. safe to say he was confused.

— on a certain occasion, you and chris were baking cookies. after you took them out of the oven, you left them out on the counter to cool down— big mistake. when you came back five minutes later, the cookies were long gone. chris was pissed.

— whenever chris wants to plan some grand gesture or big date, his brothers help him 110%. on one of your anniversaries he filled your room up with balloons and chocolates. like, on an insane level. after the whole celebration you had to call and thank nick and matt for the help.

— despite them denying it, matt and nick think your relationship is so cute. they’re your #1 fans honestly.

— ^ which means they take pictures of you all day every day. chris sends you random ass pictures of you two it’s so funny. (“look at the pic matt took of us lol” “when did he even take that hello????” “idk but we look so cute”)

— chris is head over heels for you and he loves that you have such a good relationship with his brothers. it makes everything a lot easier since you can tag along to trips, tour, and just be with him a lot more.

— whenever chris posts you on social media, he posts the cutest couple pictures. however, the comments always include matt and nick with something along the lines of (“PARENTS” “you’re both disgusting” “get a ROOM”)

[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[0xstarzx0]

TEARS |ONE SHOT|

S1 Rafe x F Reader!

{OPEN COMMAND}

[English is not my native languagess❗️❗️]

SYNOPSIS: Rafe Cameron takes revenge by all possible means.

TW: NON-CON, DUB-CON, violence, alcohol, sex, rape, insult.

______________________________________________

If you could pick a horrible day in your life, you’d pick tonight.

You don’t know when the party went wrong, you remember dancing with Sarah your best friend and with your boyfriend JJ at midsummer, then everything went fast. JJ who is taken away by security he throws you a bad look then goes hand in hand with your worst enemy Kiara.

You realized something was wrong, and when you called your boyfriend and you went straight to voicemail, you got it.

Your relationship was over, maybe not for you, but for him, it was decided. You were no longer his girlfriend.

That’s how you ended up on the side of the road alone in the middle of the night with a bottle of alcohol in your hand. Your makeup was ruined, your hair that took you so long to straighten looked like nothing and you didn’t walk straight in your white heels which was in connection with your long white dress.

you walked aimlessly when the lights of a car lit you, you did not stop. However, the car slowed down, the passenger window fell down. You did not pay attention and continued to walk.

"Well, wouldn’t that be Maybank’s girlfriend?" asks a male voice. You stop and the car too. you look at your interlocutor to see Rafe Cameron, elbows out detailing you like a predator.

you wipe your tears and look at him. "Ex-girlfriend." you say while drinking a sip of alcohol. he raises his eyebrows and a smile appears on his face, an unhealthy smile.

"Do you want to change your mind with us?" he asks, you approach the vehicle and see Topper and Kelce. Kelce shakes while laughing a little white bag. "I’m not using drugs," you say away.

"It’s okay, as long as you drink it’s cool, right?" he turns to the boys, they laugh. You look at them before heading towards the back of the car, you get in the latter.

______________________________________________

You were laughing with Rafe in the back, going all over the empty roads of the Outer Banks. "You know what Y/N?" asks Rafe louder than music. "What Cameron?"

"I would be able to fuck you right now and no one would say anything and maybe send a picture of me fucking you to JJ," Rafe said. You laugh and hit his shoulder. "You’re not funny" he grabs your chin. "I wasn’t laughing Y/N."

His hand moves to your thigh, she goes under your dress, you grab his hand. "Rafe, I’m… sorry but I’ve been drinking too much and.." You start backing up, but he grabs your arm and brings you closer.

"Come on, just for one night, I could make you come like a real guy." He’s holding your wrists tight." Rafe please let me go." He does not listen to you and leans forward, he is on you, he kisses you the top of your chest, neck and face. Rafe" you say trying to get him out.

"Yo top, turn up the sound Dude," he says as his hands slip under your dress. Topper turns up the volume. You fight but Rafe is decided.

Rafe grabs your wrists and puts it next to your head, with another hand he undoes his belt. Rafe please-" he cuts you by gently brushing your hair, his hand moves to your throat." You turned me on, so let me finish what you started" without even warning, it sinks into you. You moan with surprise and he starts to go back and forth with his pelvis.

You’re crying as it penetrates you, your body is paralyzed by fear. His thrusts become increasingly brutal and violent, his breath against your ear disgusts you. You’d like to scream but no sound comes out except for the whimpers of surprise.

He gets up and hangs his hands on your hips, your head bangs against the back door. "Yo Kelce, look at Maybank’s girlfriend, she’s not the prettiest slut you’ve ever seen?" he asks. Kelce turns around and a proud smile is drawn on his face. "the most beautiful slut" he laughs.

Rafe leans in your ear. "Did you hear that, sweetie? Most beautiful slut." He gives you a slap, not strong enough for her to hurt you but enough to bring you back to reality.

the reality in which Rafe rapes you.

he accelerates and you tighten around him, without warning, he empties into you. Your legs hurt terribly, they tremble with pain while the rest of your body trembles with fear and shame.

Rafe sits back in his seat, with a wave of his hand he pulls your legs away. he taps Topper’s seat telling him to stop.

Rafe looks at you, his eyes are empty, no regrets, was he proud?

He opens his door and goes down, he goes around the car and opens your door. he grabs you by the arms and takes you out. He poses on the side of the road and looks. he crouches down to be at your level.

He lifts your chin and wipes the tears running down your cheek. That was for Top’s boat." You shake your head and try to get away from him. He grabs you by the back of your head and forces you to look at him." If you tell anyone what just happened, I swear I’ll kill you, okay?"

"I don’t have anything to deserve this." You say trembling. Rafe gets up. "You knew what you were doing when you’d rather go out with Jj than me." He goes back in the car and leaves.

______________________________________________

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[sugawarassoulmate]

okok im back with incel!kenma

whats even worse is if you really can’t tell if you’re a guy or a girl, the type of person that gives gender envy. if you have longer hair he just assumes your like him and can’t be bothered to cut it.

OKAY THIS THOUGHT JUST HIT ME MID TYPING! YOU’RE THE BITCH NERD!/LOSER!KURO CANT STOP TALKING ABOUT. THERES TWO MAYBE THREE WAYS HE CAN FIND OUT ITS YOU.

also ik this isn’t one of your hcs for kuro but nerd/loser!kuro x mean!goth!gf but maybe you’re not mean to him but everyone else, people even look at him the wrong way and you have them absolutely terrified. and during your face chats with him you never have your makeup or you daily clothes on. normally just bare faced and in something of kuros. surpising how he didn’t pick up kuros old nekoma jersey

number one: maybe kuro posts a picture of you on his story possibly at your pc playing with incel!kenma. or it could be one of the spicy mirror pictures you made him post because why the hell is the dumb bitch from class feeling up on your man for. maybe you even rant to kenma about this dumb bitch who can’t keep her hands to herself, and why the fuck is she touching a taken man. (okay i think incel!kenma is misogynistic but not homophobic because why the fuck would anyone want to deal with some needy whore constantly.) but that rant solidifies the thought that you are infact a guy maybe not one who hates women on the same level as he does but a man nonetheless. but once kuro posted that picture he figured it out and was disgusted.

number 2: kuro is at your house studying, so to keep your boredom at bay you hop online with kenma, it’s about two hours in when he hears a knock shuffling in the back ground followed by the sound of someone falling onto your bed when he asked about it your response is casual “oh its just my boyfriend.” and he doesn’t pick at it anymore. but then the mic catches a familiar voice in the background. “pretty girl when are you gonna be done, i want to take a nap with you” you give a hum in response to his question. “alright bro gotta leave after this round, so we have to win don’t wanna lose the last match of the day.” obviously you land up losing because kenma can’t get his pretty little head around the fact that he couldn’t tell you were some fucking bitch, you never told him either so that makes you a fucking liar (even tho he didn’t ask). when the game disconnects he’s seething.

number three: this is the worst option really kuro begs him to come hang out with him at his girlfriend, he swears up and down that she’s not the type of woman he’d hate. promises that they have a lot of the same interests. maybe he sends a picture of you cosplaying as one of his favorite characters but that just lowers his opinion, in the photo he can’t even tell its you though. so he’s even more confused when he meets you guys at the arcade. he cautiously calls you by your in game name and you respond with a smile and respond with your irl name. he’s genuinely not sure how to react. not just bc you’re the person he’s been gaming with for almost a year, but with your thick ass platforms you’re just as talk as kuro if not taller. you literally look down at him, can he even talk shit about a bitch like you with out getting his as beat.

anyway this drug out for way longer than intended. but yeah incel!kenma making assumptions and being totally wrong. how funny would it be if he had a crush on kuros gf

bestie.....my beloved......all of the options just sound so amazing to me omg *kisses u*

the absolute torture incel!kenma has to go through upon finding out that 1) his favorite gaming buddy is a disgusting female, 2) she's dating his best friend and somehow he never knew, and 3) she's so fucking hot that kenma can't stop picturing her face every time he rubs one out.

and you just won't let him live you're so fucking mean to him that kenma can't even get a word in when you're roasting him. the only thing that reels you in is kuroo's soft, pleading voice asking you to be nice.

kenma's embarrassed that his friend has become such a simp but fuck if he didn't wish he was on the receiving end of your sweet words.

[xo-urban]

HI HIII HELLOOO

soo, request for ghost x male reader? :D

probably this one may be a little sad, but let's say reader also uses a mask like ghost so no one actually knows his face, not even ghost. he has been working on his team for years now gets along with ghost (they're in love but in denial lol) bc both use masks and the team finds it funny.

one day one mission goes wrong and his mask gets snatched, ghost sees and they act like nothing happened the rest of the mission but ghost clearly sees that the soldier is affected by this.

later, ghost takes him to a more private place where they adress the situation and the soldier let's ghost take off his mask basically showing his face again more carefully, seeing this big ass scar that covers a lot of his face and that's mostly why he used the mask in the first place. they already have a lot of trust in eachother so simon let's the soldier see his face and then they kiss.

kinda dramatic, but that's my thing lol bye bye!

I loved this sm 🫶

Good Things Come in Damaged Packages

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Male Reader

Summary: A mission went a little south and Ghost supports you all the way when you show him your biggest insecurity.

Warnings: Typical mission violence, angsty themes, fluff and Ghost support, no beta read cause I’m lazy 😭

Word count: 883

Despite how much time had actually passed serving with Task Force 141, you have never shown your face, not to a single person. You despised your looks and cherished your privacy. You were okay with it, knowing there was another person who also his his face made you feel a little bit more welcomed when you first came.

You and Ghost never asked about taking off the masks, keeping to yourselves was the normal. You liked him for being wary of your boundaries as you are of his own.

The reason for your mask was this nasty burn scar that made you heavily insecure, to you, it was hideous, your only option was to hide it so you wouldn’t be so heavily judged. It took up almost half your face, like someone tried to erase you but couldn’t quite get the job done. You’d never thought about anyone loving you to this day, it was completely hopeless to you.

Over the years, you and Ghost became closer, you would trust the man with your life, but you’ve still never shown your face to him. You’ve seen him lift his mask to take a drink, and you can’t lie when you were caught staring for a few moments.

Tonight you two had a mission to retrieve some intel for your operations. It was dark out when the two of you approached the building which said to have held the information you needed. The place was littered with enemies.

You stayed dead silent when you lead Ghost into the building. Whenever an enemy appeared, you aimed and pulled your trigger. You had no silencer which alerted the whole building. Footsteps ran to your position as Ghost had your back, firing clean shots at your enemies, savoring his ammunition as you tread forward, clearing a path.

You took a step forward, only to get pulled into a dark room. “Fuck!” You yelled, capturing Ghost’s attention. The enemy yanked your mask off before you threw yourself at him, sending the two of you tumbling to the ground. When Ghost turned into the room, he froze, shocked as he saw your angered face, it was the worst yet possible time to have seen it. You gritted your teeth when his fist connected with your jaw, cursing as you pulled out your pistol and shoved it into his chest, firing multiple shots into your enemy. You stood silently, picking your mask off from the ground and putting it on. You huffed turning to leave, only to see Ghost with his eyes on you.

He saw.

He saw your face.

The face that you found hideous, you cursed to yourself as you shoved past him, this wasn’t the time to deal with your anxiety. The mission continued without further problems, happening to be too easy for you and Ghost. You grabbed the files and left quickly, not wanting to say a word.

When the two of you hopped in the car to head back to base, it was so uncomfortably suffocating but silent for the most part. The tension was there and you hated it. When you arrived at base you were in a hurry to leave, gripping onto the files to hand to Price later. You heard Ghost call for you but you ignored him, he probably found you disgusting and you hated it, you hated yourself for it.

You dropped off the files before quickly walking to your room with your head slightly down. That's when you were pulled into a room you found so much comfort in. You looked up to find Ghost staring at you with soft eyes, “What do you want..?” You spoke softly, afraid of what he’ll say after seeing your face.

“You don’t have to run away from me.. Scars can still be beautiful and shouldn’t define you at all..” Ghost spoke softly, cupping your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful y’know? You don’t need to hide from me.. Not any more” Ghost spoke softly, slowly lifting up your mask to reveal your teary eyes, you never fought him, letting him remove your sense of security.

“You’re so perfect.. I love you so much..” Ghost whispered, watching with soft eyes as tears rolled down your cheeks. You hiccuped, pulling Ghost close to you as you cried into him. You felt accepted after hiding for so long.

But most importantly, you felt loved.

Ghost hushed you, cupping your cheek to get you to look up to him through teary eyes, his mask was off and you couldn’t help but sob out of pure happiness.

Ghost pulled you into a kiss, hushing you softly as you leaned against him, he rubbed your back with a free hand while the other rubbed away your crystal tears.

“I love you so much, ever since the day we met, just knew you were the one. You’re so perfect darling.. Wouldn’t trade your handsome face for the world… never. I love you.”

It was all you’ve ever wanted, to be an accepted human again.

You cried in Ghost’s comfort, sobbing as you told him you loved him so much, over and over as if Ghost was too stubborn to get it in his head.

“You’re perfect, just the way the world built you.”

[vauxxy]

my camp half blood oc ^_^

YALL SHES ADORABLE

her name is odette van schmidt and she’s a child of dionysus 😇

her story is actually rlly funny tbh. makes me crack up a bit. so here it is

basically dionysus met her mum (a rich socialite) at a party she was throwing for the opening of an art gallery, and it was getting late so everyone was going home. odettes mum looked over at dionysus and was like ‘omfg these old geezers r soooo boring. wanna hit the club?’ and dionysus was like ‘have my baby’ SO SHE DID.

9 months later she gave birth to odette van schmidt: the lying, unstable (possible future addict), drama queen JOY of dionysus.

by the time odette turned 14, her mum was like ‘right. this girl needs to get her ass to boarding school’ bc she could not stop CAUSING A RUCKUS. she was a menace during important parties and events- not because she wasn’t good at parties; but because they weren’t fun. while her mum agreed with her, she had grown out of her party girl phase and had to settle down.

well, odette didn’t fight her mums decision to send her to boarding school. after all, that’s where the craziest shit happens, doesn’t it? especially in new york.

so imagine this: odette van schmidt, the pretty girl with weird eyes and designer clothes CHOWING DOWN ON SPECIAL BROWNIES WITH HER ROOMMATE WHO LOOKS LIKE HOMELESS MAN IN A PRETTY GIRLS BODY.

odette could NOT stop getting into trouble. always sneaking off with her friends, partying her weekends away. by the age of 15 she had developed a pretty bad habit of taking a shot of vodka every sunday morning to get through the preachy ass mandatory services.

odettes mum had enough when she found out her daughter wasn’t taking her meds everyday at 8:00, and was instead lighting up at 4:20.

odettes mum had to call her baby daddy and tell him to pick her up for the summer. odette heard this call, and jumped to the conclusion she was getting sent to REHAB. so she ran.

she ran fast and fast and fast and fast. all the way from manhattan to queens.

ofc odette always saw weird shit. but she just always chalked it up to sleep deprivation, adhd, maladaptive daydreaming, and later in her teens: drug induced hallucinations.

after walking around new york aimlessly for 3 hours to escape rehab, her mum gave her a call.

“hey odette… can you come back home? bc ur lowkey a demigod and I WONT SEND YOU TO REHAB BABY IM SORRY I WONT ITS FINE YOU WERE ONLY SMOKING WEED ITS OKAY BABY-”

BOOM. hellhound right in the middle of the dingiest 7/11 in all of queens.

odette booked it- already terrified by what her mum said, and even more so by this terrifying dog thing.

she ran down at alleyway, hoping to escape the gross mangy dog, but she wasn’t fast or sharp enough to lose it or outsmart it. the hellhound attacked her from behind, ripping through the back of her shirt and leaving a scar that ran across the length of her back.

like that shit was BIG. like, from her neck down to her hipbone.

odette was vengeful thoguh. she was more angry than she was in pain, so she took out her pocketknife and started stabbing and punching that thing away. LIKE. HOW WOULD THAT EVEN PROTECT HER FROM A HELLHOUND??? but then the mutt started chasing its tail and howling like crazy, making it easier to put it down like an old dog.

and poof.

into thin air.

“alright what the fuck”

so there she lay- sitting and panting and wheezing in an alleyway, bleeding out. so she decided to pray,

“god i’m sorry for drinking on sundays! i’m sorry for using bible pages to roll! i’ll do anything to make it up to you!”

“girl, it’s fine.”

all of a sudden, there was this middle aged guy in front of her with the same eyes as her and the worst fashion sense she’d ever seen.

“i didn’t know jesus shopped at h&m…”

“jeez, you sound like ur mother.”

after 10 awkward seconds of silence, odette passed the fuck out. bc her back is a war zone. obviously.

when she woke up the next day, she was at the most rank hospital she’d ever been to. but all the doctors were cute. they were all blonde and spoke like poets and had such gentle hands. but they were wearing the most atrocious orange shirts.

good thing I’VE got STY-

odette looked down at herself. “are you fucking kidding me.”

orange was not her colour. it was purple.

after she got all healed up, two blonde 13 year olds who looked just like her arrived at the infirmary. “hiiiiii welcome to rehabbbbbbb”

“oh my god i’m actually going to kill myself”

castor and pollux eventually cleared up mostly everything about camp (after fucking around with their new older sister a bit more, of course), and proceeded to take her to get some food in her tall ass stomach.

she ate. and then she ate a bit more. and then she complained. and then she asked if her mum has her ‘crazy meds’. and then she asked for new clothes. and then she called her mummy and asked her for new clothes or perfume or anything. and then she walked over to the big house to complain about something again.

and as soon as she walked through the doors, screaming about how she can’t party with a torn up back- she was claimed.

“oh my gods odette. we have your stuff. its fine. it’s cool. you’re my daughter btw. and no drinking at camp.”

“… why would my mum fuck a guy who shops at h&m?”

“I DO NOT SHOP AT H&M, I AM A GOD-“

odette blanked. she wasnt really good at faces. much better with names. that’s what u get for being a history buff who can’t make eye contact i guess.

“… which one, sorry?”

“… dionysus?”

“oh. that checks out.”

[sunsetno4]

Since it's on my mind, a few silly headcanons about whatever the fuck happened between Ortega and Ven (the early days). This is just silly nonsense since I'm in the mood to ramble aimlessly for a bit~~~

I always liked the parallel between Ortega and Sidestep's first kiss being almost dying during the Psychopathor fight, and the first time Ortega asking them out after they almost died during the Catastrofiend fight. Like I'm sure there were probably other close encounters inbetween, but that bone-chilling 'oh no' fear of failure and loss?

Them dying just feels fitting for a catalyst. Death, it spirals around them~~

My personal headcanon tho is like. Vendetta sincerely enjoys flirting with people. Ne finds the banter fun and funny, but it's just that to nem: banter. Ne never realizes that there might be actual ~feelings~ involved between nem and Ortega until that kiss. Because the idea was so laughable to nem. Who would want to kiss someone so abrasive and nameless? Who would want to kiss a Re-Gene?

Ne is also demi, so nir actual feelings were kinda not super active. Ne was like '@_@!!!' over the kiss. Blue screened, big time, in that 'what is this?????' way.

And I'm sure Ortega was equally '@__@!!!!' over her own bi panic after that kiss. So, like they never addressed it. For a year. As everyone around them was just judging the fuck out of them.

The flirting slowly picks back up, because it them and they're idiots and getting back to the old status quo is better than the awkward not-addressing. They get closer, Vendetta still refuses to show nir face fully. But there's pieces and half-faces and they're lovely~ To Ortega~ Who Very Much Like 'FRIENDS. THAT'S ALL. GO US. :)!' As she's dating everyone to distract herself.

….and sometimes kissing Ven too. As Friends. Friends Can Kiss, Why Not? It's fun, and they were drunk. Totally cool.

And then, Catastrofiend fight happens. And it's Ortega who almost dies. On Vendetta's watch. Who is Just Filled with Overwhelming 'Do Not Touch Her' levels of possession when the Catfiend shish kebabs Ortega. Because like, Ortega is Theirs. But, also …gross. Ven honestly hates that feeling, on many levels. And anyways! There's no time to address that while Ortega's guts are, you know, everywhere. Blood too. It's better to Not Think about feelings at all, just save your friend! Go, go, go~

Buuuuuuuut, that feeling is still there. Circling. Around. Friends can kiss, but— And Vendetta refuses to let the thought go any further. Pointless, worthless, useless. Not gonna think about maybes, not gonna happen!

Buuuuuuuut, also, maybe? Ne could trust Ortega? With something else?

Like nir face, full face, unmasked? She is injured so Vendetta can definitely outrun her in the worst case scenario? Like, would the Farm put out secret danger want-ads? For nem? Not like 'there's this escaped Re-Gene, please send her back, xoxo, the Farm', but there's plenty of ways to spin a dangerous person (ha!). It feels like it would be in the realm of possibility at least, and the Rangers would probably know if that were the case, right?

There's always ways to rationalize fears. That's why it's been almost two years and Vendetta is still hiding. Half-lives are better than no lives.

But maybe saving someone from death is worth a quarter of a life? Maybe?

Because I just like the idea of Vendetta showing up to recovering Ortega's apartment with shitty food, Ortega can't cook with her guts all blah and Ven can't cook at all and Panzavecchia's has the best fries, soooooo. That's a kind thing to do, for a friend, yeah? Bring them food when they're down?

And ne nonchalantly takes off their mask while grabbing plates from the kitchen and just lets Ortega finally see nir face. Fully. Over a plate of microwaved fries. And it's just…

Ortega: :)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vendetta: If you make a big deal out of this, I'm leaving. :l!!!!!!!!!!!!

While Ortega is trying to be cool and not super gleeful, while also running through a catalogue of people because Vendetta looks like someone, who was it again, it's downright uncanny. And Vendetta is fighting every paranoid 'she knows, she's gonna call the farm, LEAVE. NOW.' @________@!!!' urge inside of nemself.

Ne manages, barely. Almost loses all of nir nerves and just flat-out flees Los Diablos outright when ne finally leaves and Ortega doesn't try to plant a sloppy obnoxious kiss on nir forehead like she normally does.

Ortega is too distracted by the dueling thoughts of 'pretend to be cool' and 'why the fuck do you look like Hollow Ground?!' and misses the chance. She'll remember like an hour later and kick her over it. And then ask Vendetta out for the first time like a month later, because really. She really, really likes that stupid little shit. And ne is very cute too, but she's known this since like Day 56, long before their first kiss.

And Ven still says no to anything close to anything for like another solid year. Sorry, Ortega. u__u;

[naivesilver]

Your icon doesn't make this sound threatening at all @melon14 I swear asjkdhakjshjfhjfhajkh

Jokes aside, I've already given this AU some basic groundwork in this post, but:

the kids' ages will necessarily vary a lot more than they do in EAH canon to better fit show events - Ramona, Ash and Maddie are among the oldest, and Apple is slightly older than the twins, a fact which she will occasionally lord over Raven;

Apple and Raven having genuine schoolyard drama going on is so funny to me. Like, what are they feuding over? Who Henry loves more as a little sister figure? Their mothers' war? If One Direction was better than Nirvana? Nobody fucking knows, especially not their dads;

(on a more serious note though, Apple has an inner conflict nearly as complicated as her canon self - sure, no one is telling her to follow some fixed destiny guidelines here, but the pressure of having a family filled with heroes and Certified Good PeopleTM might still get to her. Moreover, Emma's jealousy was off the charts when she was born, even though Snow tries to pretend it never happened;)

I'D FORGOTTEN OUAT HAD FRANKENSTEIN WALKING AROUND CAN WE BRANCH OUT INTO MONSTER HIGH TOO????? Because I'd be STOKED to have Francesca "Frankie" Whale show up as a consequence of her dad's actions (also Jekyll and Hyde are there so like...Hyde Serum!Jackson and Holt when);

Sparrow is a mama's boy while Raven is a daddy's girl and it SHOWS;

you know that meme with the lizard and its offspring that goes "children this is dirt" "dirt?" "dirt?" "dirt?"? That's Ruby with her babies on Wolfstime. Mama wolf running through the woods and teaching her pups things while Dorothy has some time to herself;

they're all very protective of Cedar, regardless of any squabble or picked side. Raven, Maddie and Cerise are protective of Cedar, Apple is protective of Cedar, Sparrow is protective of Cedar, even though he usually doesn't give his sister's friends the time of the day. Basically everyone took one (1) glance at this tiny, shy puppet girl and was immediately flooded with love;

that definitely includes the adults in her life, BTW. Of course daddy adores her and grandpa is beyond thrilled, but the moment Dr Archie Jiminy Hopper realizes that this kid is nothing like young Geppetto and Pinocchio and is instead sweet, quiet and capable of staying put when she's asked to? He's sold. He'd have loved her no matter what, but at least Cedar's behavior won't give him a heart attack before he's 50;

I still think that Cedar should have that wood gene show up in the worst possible moment, but it'd probably be an innate trait of hers rather than the result of Blue's active intervention. HOWEVER, what Blue would most definitely do is try to imply that Cedar did something to deserve what's happening to her, which is nearly as bad imho;

not that that would fly with August, honestly. He's barely convinced by the fact that he deserved his various punishments - you mean to tell him that his little girl, who's been deemed extremely pleasant to have around by just about everyone she meets, has somehow committed some sort of sin and is being puppet-ified as a result? Are you shitting him? This is gonna give him the catharsis arc OUAT never bothered to send his way, alright;

finally, there's a ton of characters I still haven't managed to work in, like Farrah, Faybelle or just any other male character, so if anyone has better ideas, let me know please I'm begging you these kids are so complicated adjshjkfhk

[magnetohazard]

So how was Combo Breaker?

Combo Breaker was awesome. Probably the most fun I've had in my life, actually. I got to talk to a lot of friends, new and old, and even got to be on Sajam's "Will it kill...?" where I got to be wrong as fuck about a Street Fighter 6 clip!

It was kind of a surreal experience at times. I spent most of day 1 meeting up with my out-of-state friends, specifically the Ohio Vampire Savior community. Everyone was in high spirits and we got together several times to go smoke or run some sets throughout the day. I had some really close matches in my stacked as fuck Guilty Gear pool, but ultimately went 2-2. I'm satisfied with my performance though, especially in the Baiken mirror I had to fight against a much more experienced Baiken player.

I was also absolutely SERVING all 3 days

Day 2 was a lot more of the same, I had 2 pools that day and was only prepared for one of them. I had a terrible time waking up for my 10am VSAV pools but I managed to put on the bat dress and tough it out anyway. Won my first match against a player whose name I knew from online fightcade tournaments, and from there I was fucking pumped!

After that, I had to fight a player who I'd never taken a game off of in my life: TankTopTyphoon. He is an excellent wolf player and I somehow did the impossible and had a very close 1-2 set with him. Again, I've never taken a game off of him before so this was an accomplishment for me!

I wound up getting team killed by another Team Tengu member and got knocked out of bracket from there. I still had a lot of fun and it was great to know I'm not fucking free anymore. Vampire Savior saw me coming out 2-2.

The last pool I had was at noon for Virtua Fighter 5 Ultimate Showdown. Now, first thing's first: I fucking ADORE Virtua Fighter. My problem with this game is the netcode is ass and it requires CONSTANT practice to see any notable improvement.

I had not played this game in about a year.

So I sandbagged and went 0-2. Moving on.

Going into the night, I decided to get fucking wasted and enjoy Real Vampire Hours which is basically a winner-stays-on set of first-to-2 that goes until the production team decides to go to bed. This one was real special though because for the final match of the night/morning I got to be on commentary with the guy who got me into the game in the first place. If you know, you know, but if you don't let me tell you that YetiGhettoSlang is possibly one of the most fun commentators to ever pick up the mic. Man says shit that sends my sides to the moon and I love him to death.

Day 3 was another special day because it was finally time for Vampire Savior top 24 which was fucking hype. I highly recommend watching the VOD if you're at all interested in the game. I was screaming and cheering the whole time and ruined my voice in the process but, hell, it was worth it!

We also got into some funny shit over the weekend like running a Beyblade tournament, taking a few friends to Portillo's for the first time ever, basically just going goblin mode for a few days and forgetting about work and responsibilities for a while.

Overall, it was a great weekend like I said before. I had my best tournament record ever, something to finally be proud of. It was also the first time I'd had a week to myself in over 6 months since the death of one of my closest friends, and I feel like I was finally able to get together with some of the other people close to them and process some of that grief with them. I like to think we made this a tournament they would've been happy to see, a true SWANbo Breaker 2023.

Anyway, things kind of immediately took a turn for the worst when I got home. After 3 whole years of avoiding it, I got bodied.

I'm recovering right now which is why it took so long for this post to come out but I'm also still in Hell.

I've just been sitting around waiting for my smell and taste senses to return to me and playing Fortnite while I wait for my copy of Street Fighter 6 to show up.

Stay safe out there, y'all. I love ya!

[ghost-puddle]

i've been scammed so many times it's not funny. i don't know how to do most things, i often need to be retaught things, dozens of times, even things i've been doing for years. i will fuck up. i will break things. i will ask the most frustrating questions possible (i'm not exaggerating, it'll sound like i'm trying to piss you off. but only if you assume i'm smart!) i will say things that are so completely outside the bounds of what makes sense to you in context that you will stare at me like a fucking alien and i will cry.

and no, being surrounded by autistic ppl does not help. everyone says i'm autistic and they're autistic so they'll understand me but idk for sure if i'm autistic and i certainly don't get along much better with ppl who are. i get along well with people who treat me like a helpless toddler at least until i say "actually i know this one!" bc 9/10 i am dissociating, distracted, or no one ever thought to teach me this so i am literally on the same level as a child. i have to learn a new cleaning skill each week and like half of them are things i "already know." i have spent 20+ years hiding inside my own head because the world was too scary and too confusing and no one was fucking talking to me anyway, so this is all eternally New to me. hopefully this changes eventually but for now you are literally setting me up for failure if you treat me like i'm on the same level as you and your college friends. because your college friends don't regularly ask you to explain "extremely basic principles" to them. i don't know how to use google. i make my friends send me wikis for everything i'm into bc whenever i look for myself i always pick "the worst and most useless ones." i can't pick my own food bc i get decision paralysis and i'm apparently incapable of using any "hacks" that have been suggested for that problem, so it mostly ends with me starving bc no one really believes that i Will Just Starve if no one helps. if you don't walk me through the entire process of a New Thing we're doing, i will make wild guesses at how it must work, which will not only confuse me, but it'll confuse you too bc you will trust me for some reason???

just the other day my gf was making dinner and she asked what sauce i wanted (extremely broad question for a topic i notoriously get decision paralysis over) but unfortunately i have no idea what counts as a sauce, and i don't know what we have, and i don't know what will taste good, and again, i realized i have no idea what counts as a sauce? the ones i could think of clearly didn't fit the food, so i just broke down crying until she offered soy sauce as an option. (i ALWAYS ask for multiple choice as an accommodation but no one ever remembers until i cry) it was literally nowhere near my mind. the first thing i asked for was teriyaki, which she makes, (she was missing an ingredient tho) which apparently uses soy sauce, which apparently meant we would have it, which is a ridiculous leap in logic that my entire polycule laughed at me for not making. i'm not mad at them i just hope they understand better now, the whole point i'm trying to make here. this is my daily life. i have plenty of strengths, subjects that i excel at, but for the very basics of life, i am infinitely dumber than you think and it's time someone fucking took that into account instead of just pretending we're on equal footing and throwing me down the hill

i'm just sick of being laughed at and yelled at and thrown impossible problems, all because you assume i'm someone i'm not. stop it. i'm 4

how to explain to ppl that i am not self deprecating i really am just dumb and if u try to pretend that i'm not it will only cause many many stupid problems and i'm done taking the fall for it

[moonlit-jeno]

friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient. 

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.  

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air. 

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to. 

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back. 

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.” 

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last. 

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent. 

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up. 

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[likeshipsonthesea]

mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it. 

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji. 

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it 

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal?  the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.” 

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Show Me [Part 2/2]

Summary: Spencer finds out his girlfriend’s a virgin. But she wants him to change that.

A/N: This is Part 2 of an anon request. I was shocked by the response to Part 1, and I’m so excited for you guys to read this one! (I also set up an 18+ sideblog @spenciebabie if you wanna check that out)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Mostly smut, and a lil fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, oral (female receiving), fingering, masturbation (female), penetrative sex, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed

Word count: 4.1k

Request: “Omg I’ve just found your account, you’re an amazing writer! If you’re taking requests, could you write something with virgin!reader and like season 13/14 Spencer?”

Masterlist

Read Part 1 Here

He’s booked a hotel room. A nice one. A really nice one.

They spent the whole week hoping that they wouldn’t get pulled away on a case. Just counting down the days until the weekend hit and they could finally release all of the pent up tension that had been building in each of them.

Of course she was still nervous, but the good kind of nervous. The kind that made you giddy more than it made you worried. Since she’d opened up to Spencer he’d been nothing but kind and supportive. It sort of made her want to sleep with him even more than ever, but he insisted that they wait, he wanted it to be special.

And now that she had time to prepare, she did all the things she thought you were supposed to do before having sex. She got waxed for the first time, and it hurt. It hurt way more than she was willing to admit. She bought lingerie. She had no idea what Spencer’s taste was when it came to things like that, but she did what Spencer would do and she made an educated guess. She knew that he liked it when she wore dresses, he would always compliment her when she wore pale colors. He said she looked pretty in everything, but especially in white.

So she picked out a set that was white, with lots of intricate little lace details. No one warned her that lingerie was so expensive, but Spencer was paying for a hotel room, so she figured she could spring for some pretty underwear. It wasn’t just for him, when she tried it on in the dressing room she knew she couldn’t leave without it. Something about the lace and the way it hugged her body just made her feel amazing.

Not that Spencer would’ve minded if she’d done none of that. He’d still find her sexy if she turned up in sweatpants and a t-shirt with stains on it. She was perfect to him. Which is why they didn’t want to jump into it right away. Where was the sense of occasion in that?

Instead Spencer had planned out the evening, he’d pick her up from her apartment, and they’d drive to the hotel, drop their bags, then head out for dinner. When they returned to the room that evening, then they’d have sex.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it didn’t sound so sexy when he gave her a regimented list of activities like that. But she knew he just wanted her to have the best possible time, and she trusted him. As always.

And she was right to trust him, but Spencer had been losing his mind about that all week. Stressed that he was going to be a let down. She’d never been with anyone else before and what if he was underwhelming? What if it was the worst first time anyone ever had? He knew the statistics, how few women cum their first time, how few cum from penetration alone. And in spite of himself he was determined. Determined to make this the best it could possibly be for her.

She was perfect, and she deserved no less than perfection.

He thought about filling their hotel room with roses, so many that you’d hardly be able to see the room. Or maybe just rose petals, scattered along the bed and the floor. Would candles be too much?

Instead he stopped himself, and he kept it simple. He bought a bouquet of roses before he went to pick her up. When he showed up at her door, flowers in hand she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. Her hair and make-up were pristine, but she was still in sweatpants and an oversized jumper.

“Are we staying in tonight? I could’ve sworn we had plans?” he jokes, stepping inside and handing her the flowers.

“Haha, very funny. I just need 10 minutes to change.” she swats his arm, “Aren't you a walking cliche, a dozen red roses?” she admires the bouquet, bringing her nose to them to take in the sweet scent.

“Nope” he says with confidence, “Only 10. While red roses signify love and romance, the number of roses given actually carries it’s own significance.” he explains, “And the message that 10 roses sends is, ‘you’re perfect’, which you are”. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he says it. He feels so sappy but from the way she looks up at him he can tell she’s just as sappy.

“You’re too much” she says, and pulls him in for a short kiss, “Will you put these in some water for me while I get dressed?” she asks, and he wants to tell her not to bother, they should ditch the plan and he’ll just scoop her up into his arms right now and take her on her bed. But he just about manages to stop himself.

When she emerges from her room again she’s in the sweetest little dress. It’s white, and the bodice hugs her while the skirt fans out once it hits her waist. She looks like a fucking princess. He loved her, he loved that this was what made her feel confident, and sexy. And he can’t escape the little gasp that falls from his lips. She just giggles at him.

“Close your mouth” she teases.

“No way, come here” he reaches out for her and settles his hands on her waist, pulling her in close and pressing their lips together, slow and deliberate. Taking his time to taste her, making sure she can feel exactly how excited he is to be with her. It takes longer than it should but she has to press her hands on his chest and push him away gently to break the kiss.

“If you keep kissing me like that we’re not gonna make it out of my living room” she says, and it’s supposed to be a joke but they both seem to know it’s only just shy of the truth.

— —

The hotel’s not far from either of their apartments, but it feels like a completely different planet. It’s expensive looking, and it’s such a stark contrast to all of the motels they have to stay in across the country.

The bed is plush, and high off the ground with crisp white sheets. And even if they weren’t planning on having sex in it, they’d still be excited to sleep in it. As they enter the room Spencer drops their bags while Y/N all but sprints over to the bed, throwing her body onto it with such force that she bounces back up off it just a little.

Spencer laughs at her, and her giddy excitement. There was still a nervous energy present in her, but nothing like before. There was no worry, no uncertainty.

He can’t help but admire her, the way she’s spread out on the bed, her hair fanned out around her like a halo, her dress spread out, blending into the white of the sheets as she giggled, her chest rising and falling with her deep breaths.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he says, walking over to the bed, standing so that he’s looking down on her. She just shakes her head from side to side.

“That’s you” she turns it back on him and he smiles. He leans down over her bracing his hands on either side of her head as he leans down to kiss her. Her own hands move up to cradle his face, holding it gently as their lips move against one another. When they break apart she’s just looking up at him adoring.

“How did I get so lucky?” she asks this time, and his heart just about explodes in his chest. He leans in again, kissing her with a little more force than last time. Climbing onto the bed instead of hovering over it so that he can be closer to her, feel more of her pressed up against him than just her lips.

He moves so that they’re both on the mattress, so that he can wrap an arm around her waist and pull her so tight against him while they kiss. He uses his other hand to roam around her body, down her shoulder, trailing delicately along her arm. Along the curve of her waist, gripping her hip just a little when he passes it. He uses that hand to slowly pull up the skirt of her dress. Not with an intentions, just so that he can have a hand on her bare skin. Resting so gently on her thigh so that he can feel the goosebumps that he leaves behind.

That’s one of the things he loves most about her, just how responsive she is. It never takes very long before she’s gasping and moaning beneath him, even if his hands are gentle. And that’s exactly how they end up. With her writhing beneath him, tiny moans passing from her mouth into his as his fingers dig into the skin of her thighs. Hiking up her dress, further and further until he could see her panties. Just like that evening on his couch.

“Spence?” she moans out as his hands creep further and further inside of her thighs. He pauses for a moment to look down at her, to check in.

“Are you okay?” he rasps, his breathing shaky, and she nods quickly, putting him at ease instantly.

“I just— could we— can we do it now?” she’s looking up at him completely doe-eyed, her hands draped lazily around his neck, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in anticipation. And all he wants in the world is to say yes. Fuck it, yes of course, anything she wanted. But he couldn’t.

They’d waited this long, what was another few hours. Besides, they had reservations, he didn’t want to have to rush anything to make it to the restaurant in time. He wanted to give her all of the attention she deserved. So he shook his head.

“Nope” he says, telling himself as much as her, “We’ve got dinner in 30”

She pouts immediately, and he wants to give in right away but he pulls himself back, removing his hands from her thighs, and freeing himself from her soft grip. She pouts even more as he stands up off the bed completely.

“You’re really gonna leave me like this?” she asks, more brazen than usual, sitting up on her elbows a little so that she can see him as he walks across the room.

“I don’t want to start something I can’t finish” he jokes, but she doesn’t look impressed.

“You already did” she counters, his eyes darting to her exposed white panties between her legs, but he shakes his head again.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, you better start getting ready for dinner” he points at her as though he’s trying to be stern, but they both knew he was wrapped around her finger.

She’s got absolutely no intention of using this time to get ready. Instead she reclines back in the bed, resting her head amongst the pillows, and she takes up right where Spencer left off. Pulling her skirt up and tucking her fingers into the waistband of her panties to find herself soaking wet. She trails her fingers between her folds, her lips softly parting to let out a small moan at the overall feeling that was building in her already.

She can’t help but cry out just a little as she sinks one of her fingers inside of herself, burying it as deep as it will go and curving it up to hit that spot she knows so well. By the time she’s added a second finger Spencer’s back in her line of sight. And he looks like he’s almost frozen in place when their eyes lock.

“Y/N” he just gasps, so small, she’s mentioned that she was the only other person who'd touched her like that, but for some reason he’d never thought to picture it. And thank god he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have held a candle to this.

“You started it,’’ she whines, “so I’m finishing it” her chest it heaving as she takes in long, labored breaths, her back arching up off the bed as her fingers continue to move inside of her panties. When it looks like she might just be about to cum her intervenes, sitting next to her on the bed and grabbing her wrist softly.

“Let me” he breathes, and she lets him pull her hand out of her panties. Instead of leaving it down by her side he brings it up towards him. Taking the two fingers that had just been inside of her and sucking them into his mouth. His soft lips sealing around them. She didn’t even know what to say.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long” he says once he lets the digits out of his mouth, and she's not only speechless, but she’s breathless now too.

With that he repositions himself on the bed so that he’s lying in-between her legs. He pulls at the sides of her panties and slides them down her legs so that she’s exposed to him. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her he was desperate for more.

Reaching further up under the skirt of her dress so that he could rest his hands on her hips, he uses the leverage to pull her a little closer. So that his face is right up against her centre. He places lingering delicate kisses all along the inside of her right thigh, and then her left. Agonizingly slow, teasing his way closer and closer to where she wanted him.

Once he’s run out of spots to kiss he’s finally at her core, and he introduces his tongue in one tentative lick right through her folds, tasting her even better now. Thankfully he’s got her hips pinned down with his hands or else they’d have sprung up off the bed.

“Fuck” she moans already, and that’s a good sign.

“Do you like that?” he asks, not playful or teasing, just genuine.

“So, so much” she affirms, and he dives right back in.

His tongue swiping between her folds, just grazing her clit every once in a while so that he could feel the way she squirmed beneath him. When he wraps his lips around her clit and begins to suck, with just the lightest pressure, she’s moaning so loud they’re probably going to get a noise complaint.

“Oh god, oh god” she starts to whine, “I think I’m close” she manages to force out. So he takes that as his queue to release his grip on one of her hips so that he can slowly push one of his long fingers deep inside of her. The stimulation from it, coupled with his lips in between her legs is enough to kill her she thinks.

Before she can think about it she’s cumming around him, on him, her hands fisting the sheets for any kind of purchase. Unable to control the moans the ripped through her.

When Spencer reappears from beneath her skirt a moment later his lips and chin are glistening, and there’s a dopey smile on his face, so she can do nothing else but pull him down on top of her for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. She wonders for a second if this turned Spencer on as much as it turned her on.

“Spencer” she breathes once they’ve broken apart, “that was amazing.”

“Yeah?” he looks at her, and delighted is the only word to describe his expression.

“Yeah” she tells him and he doesn’t miss a beat before he's on her again, diving in and placing feverish kisses all along her neck, down her collar bone, right to the cleavage that’s just exposed at the neckline of her dress. He starts to pull down the straps on her shoulders, doing anything he can to get it off her without having to move from his position, so perfectly situated on top of her.

“Spencer” she giggles, pulling his face up out of her chest, “What ever happened to dinner?

“We’re already 9 minutes late” he just laughs, “fuck dinner” and he dives back in. And she can’t fight him on that one. He’s sick of working around the fabric of her dress so he sits up the the bed and pulls her up with him.

“We’ve gotta get this off” he says, frantically searching for the zipper, and she wants to laugh at his eagerness, and she would, if she weren’t just as excited to be undressed. She has to help him find the zipper at her side so that he can slide it down. The dress goes slack around her just enough that he can pull it off over her head.

And now she’s just lying down in front of him in nothing but a bra and he thinks he might pass out. It’s a pretty one, white, and lacy, with a little satin bow in-between the cups. It’s so gorgeous against her skin that he almost wishes he hadn’t taken her panties off earlier. So that he could properly admire the whole set.

“I like this” he bites his lip, “I like it a lot” she doesn’t have to ask ‘what’ he’s looking so unashamedly at her breasts that she can’t mistake it.

“I bought it for you” she gazes up at him. And it makes this heart melt, she’d bought it for him, for him to see, to touch, to admire, to remove. “Can we take off your clothes now?” she asks then, and he feels stupid that they’re still on. He was so caught up in looking at her he’d almost forgotten he was even there. So he moves quickly, hopping up for a moment to rid himself of his clothes.

Once he’s in front of her in nothing but his boxers she starts to feel nervous again. She’s seen his cock before, she’s held it, tasted it, but this time was different. This time it was going to be inside of her. What if he didn’t like it, what if she was bad at all of this and he hated it.

He takes them off so that she can see just how hard he is, flushed and leaking, so excited to be with her. And it should feel reassuring, but it just feels like pressure. Pressure to be good.

Once he’s hovering over her again, his mouth working against hers as his hands work to unclasp her bra he can feel the hesitation in her kiss, in her touch. So he stops, and he pulls back.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he says, his voice laced with equal parts love and concern.

She thinks for a moment before she speaks, “I just don’t want it to be bad for you” she whispers, like she’s embarrassed. And he can do nothing to contain the shock that spreads across his features.

“It could never be!” he rushes out, “This could be the worst sex of all time, and it would still be the best sex of my life, because it’s with you”

She softens immediately, he always knew exactly what to say to put her at ease. To comfort her so completely. So she pulls him back down to connect their lips once again. This time with the passion that she usually did, no apprehension, no worry.

And they stay like that for a few more minutes, him on top of her, their mouths moving against one another. With her bra on the floor his hands caressed and squeezed her bare breasts, fingers gently teasing her nipples in a way that made her gasp.

He has to climb off of her to get a condom from his bag, and for the brief moment that his warmth is gone she misses it more than she ever thought possible. When he returns to the bed, foil wrapper in hand she’s excited. This was it.

“Can I—” she starts, “can I put it on?” she asks sheepishly. And honestly he’s confused, but he hands her the wrapper anyway. She rips open the foil and pulls out the condom. Holding it in one hand as she grips his cock with the other, pumping it gently, softly gliding up and down the length a few times. She leans down into his lap for just a moment and licks up the underside of it, leaving an ever so slight kiss at the tip where it was leaking. Then she starts to slide the condom down his length, all the way down, so, so, slowly until it was at the base. No one had ever put a condom on him but himself, and he had no idea it could’ve been that hot the whole time.

He pulls her in for an appreciative kiss, pushing her back down on the bed so that he was on top of her once again.

“Can you, um— can you be on top?” she asks, biting her lip and looking up at him.

“Of course, whatever you want.” he whispers, “You’ve got to tell me if you don’t like something, or if you’re in pain, or not comfortable, or if you just want me to stop for any reason. Okay?” he asks, so sincere, and so full of love. And she’s so unbelievably happy that she waited for Spencer.

“It’s usually more comfortable and enjoyable if the woman has already cum once during the session, so you should be relaxed, but I’ll go slow.” she nods up at him.

“I’m ready” she sucks in a deep breath and pulls him in by his neck to kiss him, her lips open on his right away as she delves her tongue into his mouth. The taste of her arousal still lingering on his tongue. He pushes in while their mouths are still connected and he can feel her short gasp against his lips. She lets out a small wince at the sensation and it breaks his heart just a little.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?”

“No, no! It just takes a little getting used to, you can keep going” she reassures him. And it does hurt a little, but it’s more like pressure. A pressure she hadn’t felt before. He pushes further in, and further in, and further in, until he’s completely inside of her, as deep as he can go. He moves so slowly so that she can take her time getting used to the feeling.

And if he was honest with himself he needed time to adjust too. She was so tight and warm around him, and whenever he’s still he can feel her clench around his length. He’d forgotten just how good this felt. Or maybe it had never felt quite this good before.

He keeps still inside of her, leaning down to litter her neck with kisses. Giving her time, she seemed to be enjoying it a little more now, biting her lip as she looks up at him.

“That feels so good Spencer” she moans out, her fingernails digging into his back as he raises up to look at her, “Does it feel good for you?” she says, and he almost can’t believe she’d even have to ask.

“It feels perfect. You feel perfect, so tight and wet” he lowers down so he can moan it right into her ear and that does something to her.

“I think you can start moving now?” she says

“Are you sure?” he asks and she nods, enthusiastic. And so he starts to move, slow and deliberate, long deep thrusts in and out of her. It doesn’t take long before she really seems to like it, adjusting to the feeling faster than she thought she would. Her legs come up to wrap around him, heels digging into his back to pull him close.

And they’re both moaning in tandem this time, moving together, breathing in sync, becoming one whole in every sense of the word. When she started to squirm beneath him, her hands gripping at his shoulders, his neck, wherever she could, he almost couldn't believe it. She was close.

So he put one hand on the headboard to steady himself and slipped the other down, skimming it along her torso before settling it right in-between her thighs. Circling her clit with his finger, faster and faster to match the speed of his thrusts as he tried to continue pumping in and out of her.

“Spencer, I think I’m—” she moans out, breathless and perfect, “Ah fuck! Right there!”

“That’s it baby” he hums, comforting and reassuring, his hands and his cock continuing their movements, working her closer and closer, “Cum for me.”

A second later she’s writhing beneath him, her back arching up off the bed, her nails digging so hard into his back that it hurt. “Fuck! Spencer!” she cries out as he works her through her high. It only takes another moment or two before he’s there himself, releasing inside of her, and the feeling is indescribable.

He pulls out of her slowly, taking care not to hurt her, when he’s sure she looks comfortable he allows himself to finally lay down on top of her. Collapsing softly, and resting his head on her bare chest.

On instinct she moves her hands to his hair, it’s just a little sweaty but she combs her fingers through it anyway. He was so beautiful.

“That was—” she wants to tell him, but she’s got no words, none that would do it any justice.

“Just the beginning.” he finishes for her.

— —

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[asuka--langley--soryu]

Hey! I’ve watched all of the show, the nge movies (rebuilds included) and the nge manga and I was wondering if you know of anymore canon/offical nge stories or content. I’ve seen some light novel series at my local bookstore but in general idk if there’s more Eva stories and series out there and what’s actually worth reading. Thanks! I love your blog!

short answer: there is SO much (too much) nge spin-off content and for the most part all of it is both non-canonical and unnecessary. off the top of my head the only thing I wholeheartedly 100% rec is khara’s ‘until you come to me’ animation (amv?), which is really beautifully done and, also, free.

also ive drafted this post like uh......4 times now and kept accidentally losing it so VERY sorry for the wait!! if it seems a lil slapdash i was tired of writing the same stuff again and again lol

extremely long answer under the cut (and links will be in a rb). somehow this became a fully fledged field guide to nge spin off content bc i am physically incapable of brevity so w/o further ado or whatever:

ok so i’ll try to make this as comprehensive + comprehensible as possible but,as I said, there is a loooot of content and I, shockingly, have thoughts on most of it. let’s organize by categories

Manga:

Every single nge spin off manga is bad in shades and variations, ranging from ‘just kind of uninteresting’ to ‘genuine human atrocity’. Raising Project is probs the most well known and is one of my least favourite pieces of content that has ever been put onto this earth. it coalesces all of the worsts parts of both evangelion and evangelion fans and can’t even manage a decent art style on top of that. there is nothing redeemable about raising project.if you see a copy out in the world please do me a favour and tear it apart w your teeth <3

Aside from That, the other big ‘alternate universe’ manga are probably Angelic Days, Campus Apocalypse, and maybe Petit Eva. I do not care much for Angelic Days or Campus Apocalypse but they are definitely not as deeply repellent as sirp. Petit Eva is, as far as I’ve seen, kind of your usual chibi comedy stuff so if youre looking for something extremely lighthearted that might be for you? I havent interacted w Petit Eva pretty much at all frankly so I’m not exactly sure whats going on there.

Shinji Ikari Detective Diary is another AU manga which I have actually been meaning to read for like......ages but have never gotten around to. It’s (as you can probably guess) a mystery series, which I’m usually into, and I havent personally heard anything bad about it, so I’ll cautiously rec looking into it. if you do and find some good scans feel free to send me way <3

finally, there’s Tony Takezaki’s parody manga, which is just like...a bunch of parody/satire comics. I do actually own it (bc I loooovvveeeee genocyber) and the art is great and its genuinely funny (given you like takezaki’s weird, kind of raunchy humor). He has a comic making fun of fan service that ends w fuyutski beating the shit out of gendo as ‘real fan service’ so like. I do genuinely recommend this one.

Novels:

Not a true ‘novel’ but Eva 1 + Eva 2 is an anthology featuring some essays, as well as comics and illustrations. It is a lot of silly shitty fanservice though, so ymmv. I dont own it (yet) but its on my radar literally exclusively because of Obata’s fucking incredible cover art.

The actual ‘novel’ that youre probably talking about is ANIMA, which is a canon divergence exploring a future where Shinji managed to completely circumvent Instrumentality. I haven’t picked up the last volume since it came out last year, so I can’t speak on it as a whole, but I like ANIMA well enough to recommend it. It reads kind of like an extremely dedicated sci-fi/cyberpunk fanfic, frankly, with that same kind of wildly convoluted but entertaining plot and much more of a focus on idealised character interactions and the ‘wow cool robot’ of it all. Actually, its kind of entirely ‘wow cool robot’ tbh, or at least the best parts are, but Ikuto Yamashita (the writer) was nge’s mech designer so that’s no surprise.

the writing is nothing stellar and it can get fanservicey in a very eyeroll kind of way, but if you go in w reasonable expectations it’s pretty entertaining. like i said, it feels very fanfic but in a ‘200k wordcount crazy worldbuilding fix it fic’ kind of way.

ANIMA expands waaaaaAAYYY more on the evas, which can be cool but does definitely indulge in some ridiculous mecha shit and, i cannot stress this enough, a lot of deeply convoluted and absolutely fruit looped sci-fi plot shit. it does actually literally feature something called ‘Super Eva’ and iirc mari is a cat girl who pilots some kind of wolf robot so yknow... ymmv

theres a buuunch of illustrations included and all the concepts for the evas are very cool and the concepts for the kid are very bad. probably it should be illegal for him to draw asuka ever again

Video Games:

there are too many nge video games. way too many. did you know about the typing game??? what about the multiple STRIP mahjong games???? or the pokemon/tomogatchi game where you hand raise an angel from birth while playing as KAJI???? the detective game where kaworu straight up fucking human murders gendo???

they wrung nge for everything it was worth in the 90s, though ig having a million fucking titles was probs super useful for all that tax fraud

some highlights:

Battle Orchestra: this is the only one i’ve ever really played and it is very fun and very of its time. a pretty straightforward fighting game but ft a big combat polygon

Second Impression: this is the second nge game to be released and i am fucking obsessed with it. what i would not give for there to be a translation available. as far as I have ever been able to tell its sort of a vaguely canon ‘side story’ about joining a band and also befriending a new girl who eventually transforms into a giant fucking horrifying bug angel. its a kind of proto kaworu storyline but gross and i want it so SO bad.

rei ayanami raising project: this is I guess basically a pet raising game except the pet is pre-series rei ayanami. you get to choose what clubs and hobbies she has and the coordinating pictures are genuinely incredible and ill 100% be posting some later. nonsense but there IS a dress up portion so like. might be worth.

Girlfriend of Steel 1 & 2: GOS 1 has the rando brunette that you see all over the place and so like idk shout out to her i guess and if you want to know the context behind that feel free to check it out, but it frankly seems extremely fucking boring and also has GOD awful asuka characterisation so. pass.

GOS 2 is the one where you can kind of date kaworu and afaik thats the only notable thing about it

Angel Rising: this is the pokemon/tomogatchi kaji game and despite how baffling it is conceptually i do actually love the artstyle and am deeply considering playing it myself. also, it does apparently give some good insight into Kaji. a new english translation came out last march so its like actually one of the most accessible of all of these somehow.

Evangelion 2 has the ‘Classified Files’ which is a tenuously canon supplemental info dump, but god is in his heavens and thats all fully available + translated online so we do not have to bother playing Evangelion 2

Secret of Evangelion: I actually know almost nothing about this but ive heard it may have some interesting info on instrumentality? it is very VERY much On My Radar and may be worth checking out 

there are so, so many others but i am just so tired.

Animation:

There are a few Petit Eva OVAs which are all in the same silly slice-of-life style and seem mostly whatever except for an episode which is, as far as i can tell, entirely about up-skirting asuka so like. yknow what actually fuck petit eva

MORE IMPORTANTLY in like 2015ish Studio Khara had the ‘Japan Animator Expo’ where they released anime shorts made by a bunch of different people. it’s actually where me!me!me! came from, and plenty of other very very cool shorts were put out during the expo’s run. Another Impact and until you come to me were both part of the Expo and are extremely fucking good. Another Impact got a lot of hype, which was well-deserved but DID briefly spark a whole ‘live action nge’ thing which is, actually, my manchurian candidate sleeper cell trigger phrase. until you come to me is much less ‘flashy’ and didn’t get as much attention, but its so so beautiful and you should all go watch it immediately.

if you have managed to bear reading through this whole thing just know that you are my favourite and im giving you a lil kiss on the forehead