#this was just a product of my boredom one night and thinking way too hard about Vadim’s interaction with MacCready

[goodneighbours-resident-charmer]

Bobrov Brothers Timeline

Some dates included for reference, however this is mostly just in (rough) chronological order up until the events of Fallout 4. This is made from my assumptions drawn off of their dialogue.

Raised by mother in the Capital Wasteland

Mother dies

Vadim does not have closure - point of conflict, Vadim doesn’t want to deal with it

Work at a bar in the Capital Wasteland

Start making Bobrov’s Best

Meet and become good friends with MacCready and Lucy

Moved to Diamond City at some point after 2282, after the ghouls were kicked out

Open the Dugout Inn and start selling Bobrov’s Best moonshine in Diamond City

Yefim handles the inn and the finances, Vadim handles the moonshine making, products, and the bar

Went through several waitresses, Vadim would often get drunk and scare them off by being “ungentlemanly”

Used Nick as a guinea pig for the moonshine recipe

Caravan Cartel nearly poisoned Piper in the Dugout but she’s saved by the moonshine (she drank it to make herself throw up)

Made friends with Preston while the Minutemen were active in the city (any point prior to late 2286)

Hire Scarlett!

I know I said I’d make this a long time ago but things got really busy for me, sorry! Better late than never!

[icyg4l]

How to Prepare for Halloween 🎃

hello beautiful people! the theme of this month is ask and you shall receive! i asked you all how you would feel about a halloween series & this is just the beginning! today’s pick a pile is all about what you should do in order to prepare for your halloween plans. if you are interested in booking a reading with me after reading this, please go to either my guidelines or my booking website to book a reading! 😸 if you have any questions, please dm me! without further ado, please select the pile that resonates with you!

top left to bottom right: (1-4)

pile one: save your money!!! it is imperative that throughout the next four weeks, you make better financial decisions. right now, you could be a broke college student, but once that refund check hits you'll have plans to celebrate halloween the right way! if you plan on drinking/going out in between then, make sure that you don't drink too much. you could burn yourself out that way. and for those who are underaged, please for the love of god, dress up with your family! some of you may have a tradition where you have a family group halloween costume. you might think it's lame but years down the line, what will you have to show for it? the 'it' being your dedication to family. it's better to cringe than to be regretful.

cards used: 5 of discs. 10 of cups. 4 of discs. king of swords.

pile two: this is my introverted pile for sure. boredom sucks, doesn't it? it's time to find peace in that though. be grateful for your current circumstances because things are about to start looking up for you. it's about the little things that will lead to the big things, even if it means being uncomfortable. if there is a chance for you to go party, then do that. you will meet someone at this party who is well-connected with someone that will invite you to their halloween party. if you're more into small-gatherings/quieter settings, attend a movie/poetry night at your school if that exists. the outcome will be the same. you don't try hard enough. an object in motion stays in motion. let's get the ball rolling, shall we?

cards used: 4 of cups. 9 of cups. death. princess of discs. 9 of discs. prince of cups.

pile three: you have wayyy too much on your plate. it's time to start breaking things into sections. some of you could be contemplating your next hairstyle, get something that will last past halloween! get a hairstyle that is low maintenance and versatile, preferably something that is not in your face. it is best that you take a tolerance break right now. find some more productive things to do. the best thing for you to do is to stay sober at this time. you could be prone to psychotic/mental breakdowns + episodes. some of you have nightmares around halloween annually. try not to overstimulate yourself by multitasking. just do one thing at a time. lastly, if you hold a leadership position, don't be afraid to try a new method or let someone else take the lead. it is okay to be a student.

cards used: king of discs. temperance. 9 of swords. princess of swords.

pile four: embrace escapism! you are so uptight, pile four. you just need a night on the town to help with that. your friends may clown you for doing things that would be considered "ladylike" or "mature". that's just your prerogative. however, you are the only one stopping you from letting loose. a good pregame session would do you something good! some of you may attend church on halloween, but this year you may want to do something different. it's okay to want to explore. you're the antithesis to pile three. it is best for you to just go with the flow this halloween season. do something out of the ordinary.

cards used: 8 of wands. 5 of wands. the moon. the hanged man.

[seelestia]

out of all the versions of scara we've seen in the game which one is your;

Favorite?

The one you actually want to meet and talk to (if given the chance)?

Best lover/partner material?

The one you most likely would get along with?

The one you most likely would want to show our world and all the shit we have goin for us?

Your pick for the best version of Scara (You can't not choose >:P).

You can choose only (The Abandoned Puppet, Kunikuzushi, Kabukimono, Scaramouche, Wanderer) i know that logically, the aboandoned puppet and kunikuzushi could be the same, but since I headcanon that he was just named as the puppet for his first "version" and later on took the moniker "Kunikuzushi", known as the wandering kid with no purpose. So take that as you will, or just change up the choices cuz who am i to stop u lmao :P - Ever so sincerely yours, 👹✨ Jae (aka your random moot that just quizzes u whenever she's bored lol)

the way you asked this question to me out of boredom, knowing that i'm a wanderer kisser who stays up at night thinking about his lore 24/7.

***NOTE: some major spoilers for wanderer's backstory under the cut! i eat up his lore like it's chicken stew, is this healthy. (/lh)

Favorite?

i'm sorry, but it is necessary that i give it up to wanderer. i think it's mainly because he is technically the 'end product' (or the matured version) of all the painful journeys he trod and that makes me really attached to him <3

The one you actually want to meet and talk to (if given the chance)?

kabukimono, my precious :'( as someone who harbored good will towards humans (at that time <//3), i bet he has lots of questions abt the way they (or, we, in that matter hehe) live. iirc, it is canon that he was taught simple and ordinary tasks by the people of tatarasuna like how to comb his hair, hold a cutlery, cook meals, forge, etc. — AND THAT'S SO CUTE TO ME?? i sure don't know how to forge but heck yeah, i'll teach you abt other silly things we do!! (silly devious giggles /j)

Best lover/partner material?

listen, wanderer and kabukimono. because these two are the most likely to be more open to the thought of forming a connection with someone else. kabukimono is more out of curiosity; what does love feel like? is love for an object the same as love for someone else? what is love? whilst wanderer is more of tolerance; he acknowledges its value, but he doesn't actively try to pursue it... unless he finds someone he really, really comes to trust over a period of time (someone worthy of him and someone he is worthy of).

so, yeah, i chose them because kunikuzushi and scaramouche both have mindsets that make them very or even too hateful towards any type of intimacy at the time <//3

The one you would most likely get along with?

kabukimono for sure!! i have a soft spot for gentle, unknowing people with curiosity. it's probs why i used to have a habit of adopting new students and checking up on them from time to time in my class irl 😭 i mostly get along best with people who can do sassy banter with me, but i can deffo get along with someone like kabukimono too <3

The one you most likely would want to show our world?

scaramouche. just purely because this little guy would frown so hard in disgust at us LMAOOOO "so, supposedly, the technology your world has is meant to make tasks easier for the people. looks like an excuse for you idiots to waste time to me. ...what even is this 'phone' thing, anyway?" he says all that, but he's definitely interested in how everything around here actually works.

Best version?

...personally, wanderer. i've talked about him enough and you don't want me to elaborate more than i already did 🥸 (/j) but i do think all his version are great in their own ways tho because each of them contributes smth to his story. he wouldn't be the person he is now if it weren't for what each of them went through, after all.

P/S...

oh, jae, about the last part.... are you sure you think that's a headcanon because that's actually right— AYO?? this is like a basic summary of the timeline for the names leading up to wanderer.

500 years ago, upon his creation, ei didn't give him a name and he was a nameless puppet. when the people of tatarasuna found him, they called him kabukimono but that was more of a term than a name — the people there did ask if he wanted a name but at the time, he was content with just being called kabukimono (because the name held precious memories for him) until the 'second betrayal' caused him to abandon that name altogether.

kunikuzushi was the first 'actual' name he chose for himself some time during or before the case of the eccentric. 100 years ago, he slaughtered the raiden gokaden (chosen clans that raiden shogun was passing down her martial arts teachings to) to seek revenge against the "bladesmiths" (his second betrayal) except for one person who was spared after scaramouche found out about said person's connection to the surname, "niwa" (the same one as his friend from the tatarasuna). "tell her this. my name is kunikuzushi," was his last words to the sole survivor laying amongst bodies of corpses before he disappeared. (more info: iirc, he was already a part of the fatui when this occured. so, scaramouche was already one of his monikers but he didn't consider it as his 'true' name.)

also, kunikuzushi means 'country destroyer' in japanese and also happens to be the name of a villain character in japanese popular drama who usurps countries. i assumed that he picked this name when the case of the eccentric happened since he did cause a minor disturbance/loss to the inner workings of inazuma through that case. we can see this reflected in today's in-game history because only the amenoma art and isshin art (2/5 clans of the raiden gokaden) still alive after that event.

ANYWAY YEAH. YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR IT BUT IT AWAKENED SMTH IN ME!! sorry for rambling, but i needed to let it out 🫣 (/lh)

[saskiamcc]

Shoot day 2 - One More Day

The second shoot day was a lot more relaxed for me - all the hard work was done yesterday :)

The first things on my list for today was to complete the notes Alfie gave me yesterday. Firstly, I added more newspaper to the wall, layering it more, creating more depth to the frame etc. I then focused on the cans scattered around the room. I had a few comments yesterday saying they looked a bit too perfectly placed - which I did agree with. I then suggested making a pyramid with some of the cans to highlight the characters' boredom in this situation, with other cans more scattered around the room. I liked this idea a lot more and it also provided more levels to the set. I had a lot more props brought to set such as dirty pillows and an extra sleeping bag, so I was able to add these and it made the set look a lot more complete. Additionally, I brought in a tool kit to place behind John - the character who has to fix the radio. We placed tools, nuts and bolts around the radio to make it seem like John had actually taken it apart. And finally, I had Vanessa (production design assistant) set up a game on the chess board (since she is much better at chess than I am haha), with the added objects on the board.

the set with the added props

My second job was to do costume checks with the actors. The night before the shoot, I texted both actors to remind them of things they needed to bring and they both pulled through and brought everything they had to add to their costumes. I honestly thought I did really well with these costumes and I think they set the tone for the film pretty well. I would have liked to find costume pieces for Robert's character John that fit the colour palette that I made, however with the time and budget we had, I had quite limited resources and it wasn't perfect. I would have liked him to have more earthy tones in his costume, and I did have a jumper which worked, however the bunker was colder than we anticipated and I opted for Robert to wear a jacket over the top. I was hoping that the jumper was going to be more visible, but due to the angles and movement, it wasn't as visible as I had hoped. I still think it does look good, I just wished I could have emphasised the character divide through their costumes more. I loved Ben's costume and was really proud that I was able to find pieces that complimented each other so well.

We started off mic'ing up the actors and blocking with them, I was present to ensure that none of the set was going to be in the way of the movements. As mentioned previously, I had already planned my set so that things were out of the way of the actors, but I am also well aware that things change so easily on sets, so I had to be prepared to improvise. Luckily, due to Alfie's good planning and communication, we came across no issues and there was nothing I had to change.

prepping with the actors

I had to keep an eye on the cans throughout the shoot to make sure that none of them had any visible brands showing. Prior to shooting, I turned all of the cans to and branding away from facing the frame, so I just needed to ensure and also brief Robbie to keep an eye on this (for continuity).

After prep was finished we got on with shooting and the hard part of my job was basically over! I wanted to stay out of the way as much as possible so I sat with Finlay, Vanessa and our runner Saif and discussed the logistics of how we were going to do the "blood" splatter shot. India was really excited to be able to create the blood as I know they have an interest in gore and special effects make-up, so I left that in their hands. I was happy with the consistency, they mixed store-bought fake blood with different sauces to make it darker and less gooey. In preparation, I made 6 or 7 extra identical children's drawings so that India had enough tries of the shot to get it just right. At the end of the day, we got called in to help with this shot. I was stood behind the monitor, checking to see if the blood throw worked - i.e. if there was enough, if it splattered on the right spots and any continuity errors such as cleaning the blood off the wall after each try. I was also stood on hand with a hammer and a new drawing to quickly replace it to cut prep time for each take. We had to alter the way it was splattered on the paper a few times, and in hindsight it may have been better to us a paintbrush rather than India's hand, however we got a few takes which worked really well. The main issues we came across here was that on some takes, India's hand or shadow was visible, or at times, not enough blood landed on the paper.

Because we had some extra time, Alfie wanted to try a shot where Cam (played by Ben) is holding the radio which is dripping with John's blood. For this, Ben stood on a footstool holding the radio, while India dripped the blood off the corner of the radio. I held the stool to make sure it was stable for Ben to stand on and I think the shot we got looked really good!!

We finished the shoot on time and were able to pack away smoothly. I was really sad to have had to take down the set because I was really proud of all the work we put in. Because I have never had to work with a location that was basically a blank canvas, this project was a real challenge for me, however I had the best time doing it because I had a lot of freedom. There are a few things I will take away from this and I know the guys have been having conversations about making an extended version and I would love to have the chance to rebuild this set and add my improvements. Some things I would do to add improvements would be keeping some of that rubble we cleared at the beginning to add more character to the scene. Additionally, I would add more props around the floor to indicate more to the fact they have been in this bunker for as long as they have - such as more cans, maybe some bottles or empty drink cans. Not only is this the biggest project I've worked on when it came to production design, it was also a project where I was a HOD and had a crew to be a leader of. I am used to producing, so leadership roles are not new to me, but being in charge of one department is a new role I've had to adapt to and I would like to think I was very communicative and was a good leader. This project also allowed me to work with a bunch of new people and during our air breaks (and sitting in Duncan's car because it was too cold outside) we were all able to bond! I loved working on this film, the crew is amazing and I had a lot of fun!!

[suna-reversed]

JJK reactions || doing their makeup

yuuji, megumi, nanami, gojo, choso, naoya, toji + extra

a/n: sorry for going a little overboard with toji, don’t know if you’ve noticed it yet, but i sorta like him or whatever🙄

not proofread because i haven’t slept in 24 hours 😀

Yuuji: he wants to make the best of his time with you so he���s always up for trying new things. sweet boy has done so much more with you before but still becomes a blabbering flustered mess by how close your face is as you gently apply all the products. you’ll have to tell him to breathe in between every now and then because of hard he’s trying to be still. “can we do this again tomorrow?” he’s looking past at you through the mirror, the blush spreading across his cheeks as he gives you a wide grin, “I wanna show it to megumi too!”

Megumi: reluctantly gives in to it after hours of you pouting and pretending to be upset. has such a deadpan face, please it’s gonna be so hard to contour his cheekbone because dude just won’t suck his face in!! however, his eyes immediately turn soft as he observes your face; brows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out the side of your mouth as you do his liner, he can barely conceal his smile even as you scold him for not keeping his face still when he has to. he honestly comes out looking so stunning though, you don’t think you can ever pull that same look off on yourself ever again😐

Nanami: has a night spa routine with you every friday night anyways, so he doesn’t mind doing this if it satiates your boredom and brings you happiness. is so patient and serious about it, even as he teases you a little by sliding his hands up the back of your shirt, massaging your back as you try to keep your hands steady. he genuinely asks questions about what you’re doing because he’s seen you struggle with maintaining your time in the morning and hopes to be able to do this one thing for you someday.

Gojo: this would truly be a test of your patience. “I know I have 6 eyes but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to blind me.” “well, maybe if you’d stop blinking so much-” You can try grabbing his jaw or face to hold him still but he would keep making “sexy faces” at you (yes, so many variations of the lip-bite face!). May also keep singing random songs in between as a way to annoy you more. “I don’t need this, I’m already perfect.” “Have you ever even washed your face, your pores go deeper than your trauma-” “...I’m gonna trap you in my void😐”

Choso: is so focused!! Let’s you do as you please with barely any complaints or protests, in reality, it’s honestly really calming for him. “can we do this tomorrow too?” His eyes are closed, a small peaceful smile etched onto his face. It’s clear it’s the affection he appreciates more than the process itself; the way you sit on his lap, handling his face with a gentleness that he’s not quite familiar with, giggling every now and then as he scrunches his nose. “sure, we can do this everyday.”

Naoya: “No.” “At least try it-” “do you think this is a joke y/n? How dare you suggest covering my face in such ‘female attributed’ products? If I allow this, what’s next? You might as well be cutting off my virile macho testosterone filled testicles.” 😐😐 “damn okay, I wasn’t gonna be able to do much over that clown face anyways.”

Toji: come on now, he’s been raised in the zenin clan AND has trust issues. he’s never ever gonna agree to it. Only way you’re getting it done with it is if you end up doing it while he’s passed out drunk or really tired, even then you’ll have to be so careful because he’s cautious even when unconscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He groggily asks, opening his eyes to be met with your cheeky grin, giving you an eye roll and flicking your forehead as he gets up to go to the bathroom. Please go hide somewhere asap, he’ll literally tackle you as soon as he sees it. “Oh, you think you can just get away with this huh? How about I leave some marks on you next?”

Toji (extra below because I’m a whore for this man and I have a headcanon that breaks my heart):

Even though he’ll never admit it, Toji at the start of your relationship, was very opposed to you even getting anywhere close to his scar. But now he’s actually committed to you and he’s convinced himself that you’re disgusted by it as you still intentionally make sure you keep away from that area around his mouth (whereas you just think it’s a vulnerable spot for him due to his initial reluctance, and don’t want to cross any boundaries).

So just imagine him coming across your makeup after that day when he’s home alone, literally walking out before he frustratedly comes back, letting himself pick up the concealer. he stares at it for a while before hesitantly dabbing some of it onto the scar to cover it. and as he stares at himself in the mirror, all he can think to himself is that it doesn’t matter if the scar’s there or not, you’ll still always see him as a monster.

[puffpasstea]

Matilda

A/N: Hi and THANK YOU so much for reading. Your messages always make my day/week. So please don't hesitate to reach out. As always, thoughts, comments, feedback, criticism etc. always welcome!

Read chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4.

Chapter 5

Christopher and I went out to dinner, and, Over the following weeks, continued seeing each other casually. We texted daily, went out for drinks a few times, and saw each other on set often. While I liked him a lot, and certainly enjoyed being around him, I didn't want the relationship to get any more serious. Which, for the time being, felt okay. I wasn't sure how long this would last but I tried my best not to think too far into the future.

Not thinking too far ahead seemed like a good plan. Things were looking up for me. I suddenly found myself surrounded by incredibly kind and hardworking people, a caring and attentive man, and the work I did for the film added some exciting work challenges in my professional life as well.

Aside from dodging my parents phone calls and continuing to leave them vague voice messages about not being able to attend family gatherings because "I had to work" and that "maybe I'll make up for it by visiting them sometime soon." Everything else ways going great. And, in my defense, I wasn't exactly lying to my parents. I did have to work. Granted, filming wouldn't fall apart without me, if I went out of town for a few days, but Fran might die of boredom at the college library if I'm not there. Besides, even though they would never openly admitted, I knew that my family was always better off without me. I'd only bring the mood down. They all had different lives and shared interests. They'd try hard to make me feel included and yet completely miss the point. Of course, I'm sure they'd say the opposite. To them, I'll always be too picky and unyielding. In any case, being under the same roof as them always ended badly. It just makes sense to stick around here.

I've hardly seen Harry since all of this. We still worked together occasionally on film stuff. At least whenever a literature question came up. And I still went to his after-work dinners a few times. He always had everyone over for dinner, drinks, and even attempted to host game nights a few times. But, apart from the obligatory "hello," we rarely spoke.

At the end of an uncharacteristically cold night shoot, I went by Christopher's trailer to see if he was ready to go home yet, secretly hoping he had a hoodie or a jacket in his dressing room that I could borrow. I had not anticipated this weather in August. When I got to his trailer, he was standing outside with his cast mates, drinking beers and talking amongst themselves.

"Hi" I tapped him on the shoulder to let him know that I was there, interrupting a conversation he was having with one of the actors.

"Well, hello!" He paused mid-sentence to greet me, smiled, put his arm around me, and went back to his conversation.

I didn't realize that we were in the casual affectionate touch phase in our relationship already. Luckily, he was facing his friend and didn't notice the surprised look on my face. Harry, on the other hand, did.

He immediately looked away as soon as I caught his eyes. He'd changed out of his costume and was in Nike joggers and an over-sized black hoodie, which he wore often whenever he wasn't in front of the camera, a kind of uniform to separate in-character Harry from real Harry. His overgrowing curls, which were drenched in hair product and slicked back whenever he was filming, were now loosely held off his face by small hair clip. His face was read in many place. No doubt a result of scrubbing it raw to get rid of the layers of make up. I'd seen the same on Christopher on more than one occasion. Even in his current state, he made standing around with colleagues drinking beer look beautiful.

"Alright, guys, it's getting late." One member of the cast announced. "I'm outta here." Gradually, everyone began to follow suit, until the only people left were Harry, his female co-star Sienna, Christopher, and I.

"I can't believe we're off for the next 4 days." Sienna announced while rummaging through her bag for her car keys.

Filming was on pause until everything was moved to the "new location" which just meant the college, where my real job is. This also meant that I was also off from my real job while we gave them most of the library to prep for filming in.

"mhm." Harry agreed, peeling the label off of his beer bottle.

"So, what's everyone doing for 4 days?"

There was a moment of silence followed by mutual shrugs.

Harry laughed and asked if we'd like to spend those 4 days at his place. Run lines, hike, and swim in his pool. Everyone agreed to meet there at 5 pm tomorrow.

"Found my keys. Alright, see you guys then!" Sienna waved goodnight and headed for her car.

"You look cold. I'll go get the car." Christopher head rubbing my shoulders, trying to warm me up. My body was cold but the fact that he'd noticed made me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Harry and I were alone now. He did his best to keep his eyes looking at anything but me. To relieve the awkwardness, I went and stood right next to him. That way, we wouldn't have to be facing each other.

"So, it's been a while, how've you been?" He spoke first.

"Yeah, good. I've been good. You?"

"Same. Good." He nodded contemplatively.

"Haven't seen much of you lately."

"Yeah, well, I've been keeping my distance, cuz you seemed mad at me. Plus, you're with Chris now, so....you're probably too busy to give me private English lessons and all that."

"Mad at you? When was I mad at you?"

"You know, for trying to insist that we talk about-- you know, after the--" He kept letting his sentences trail off.

"Well, I'm not mad at you." I declared, squeezing my legs closer together trying to hold on to any body heat left in me.

Without so much as a glance towards me, Harry promptly took off his hoodie and handed it to me.

"Just take it, Matilda" he rolled his eyes when I attempted to protest. I was glad he couldn't see my smile. He hadn't called me Matilda in a while.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're not mad at me because I've missed hanging out with you. And not just for the English lessons, believe it or not."

" sure, sure." I chuckled.

The hoodie was warm and it smelled like him.

"You'll be there? tomorrow?"

"of course, I mean, you just said you missed me. If I'm not there you'll perish."

"I burn, I pine, I perish."

"Shakespeare." I smiled, amused.

"Wait, you mean that's not just from '10 Things I Hate About You?'" He giggled.

"You are clever, Harry Styles."

"Not just a pretty face, you know..."

"That's right. You're also good for a hoodie."

He laughed fully and warmly.

I spotted Christopher's car making the U-turn towards us, and started to leave. "That's my ride. See you tomorrow?"

"Can't wait."

"Hey darlin', hope I didn't keep you waiting" Chris said as I got into the passenger's seat. "Oh, I see you stole Harry's hoodie off his back." He laughed.

I turned to face the window and inhaled deeply taking in the lingering scent in the hoodie.

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SEVEN || ASSAULT

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of forced marriage + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 28 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : after rain 

↳ next episode : boredom

↳ barista’s notes : hi again....barista violettelueur is back from the shadows of not writing anything  ┬┴┬┴┤•ᴥ•ʔ├┬┴┬┴ but i want to apologies to you all for not working on your coffee orders, i just been really being in a non productive mood theses days but i should really bring it back up since i have mocks coming in soon....ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but overall, i hope you enjoy today’s episode and have a wonderful day/night ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“I think you can do that,” you stated in a quiet tone, causing Fushiguro to look in your direction only to see you staying still in the position that you had set yourself in before slowly pulling yourself back up to sit in a normal position, leading Fushiguro to go back to what he was in deep thought about.

‘I don’t get it, though. Why...did you run back then? What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well’

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?”

‘I have the potential to beat special grades? Is that what he meant by that?’ Fushiguro thought, before turning to look at you to discover you were looking into the distance while continuously sipping on your orange juice like the addict you were. 

‘What was she trying to tell me? It seemed like L/N knows something...intellect?’

Slowly but curiously, Fushiguro began to reciprocate your previous movements by letting his hand touch the step between his legs before waiting for a second to see what you were trying to inform him, only for his hand to steadily go deeper into his shadow leading him to widen his eyes at this discovery.

“Tuna, tuna,” Inumaki mentioned, as he pointed at Fushiguro since he noticed what he was doing, leading Zenin and Panda to look at their classmate wanting to know what he was trying to bring their attention to.

“Huh? What?” Zenin asked in confusion, before turning her head in the shikigami user’s direction to realise what he was doing.

“Senpai, I think I can do it,” Fushiguro stated, with a rare smile before looking in your direction once again to see you were still staring at the field in front of you.

‘Such intellect…’

                                               ꕥ

 “Ahh?”

Suddenly, after you masterfully was able to swipe Zenin’s footing with the metal pole-arm she had given you for the practice match, you were suddenly hoisted into the arm once you fully turned around, only to suddenly find Panda effortlessly lift you up with his paws on either side, catching you by complete surprise.

“Are they finally going to get her?!” Kugisaki shouted in question since, for the past few days of training, no one was able to defeat you in any of the practice matches they had set out.

However, before Panda could act of on his plan, you gracefully spun your body around to face the other way like a professional gymnast before concentrating your cursed energy to your leg and foot as you swang down to kick the sorcerer in the back causing the animal to let go of the pole in pain as he fell while you landed with some stagger since you didn’t have enough time to plan your footing with Inuamki behind you to make sure you didn’t fall down.

“Maybe not...” Fushiguro muttered while sitting next to his classmate as both of them were sitting on the stairs spectating the fight going on between you and the two other second-years.

“Wow!” Kugisaki gleefully mentioned as she lightly clapped her hands for your performance.

“Ah sorry senpai, did I kick you too hard?” you sincerely asked, as you crouch down by his side to check if he was doing okay, to which he gave you a thumbs up to indicate his well-being before praising you for your performance which led you to stand up straight to move over to Zenin to give her a hand on getting back up.

“You’re really strong,” Zenin muttered with a smile causing you to smile back before stating, “Nah, you really made it challenging since it’s been a while since I fought someone good with weapons,” which lead your upperclassmen to tell you to get Fushiguro since it was his turn.

Leisurely walking to your classmates by the stairs, you casually threw the pole towards Fushiguro, who caught it instantly, before mentioning to him that it was his turn to train with Zenin leading him to get up from his seat to move to his designated area for you to then take his seat next to Kugisaki, leading to your classmate to place her head on your shoulder as you took out your phone to scroll through a bit.

“Is that your sister, Gojo?” Kugisaki question, leading you to turn your head slightly to look down at her only to find her staring down at the screen of your phone to which you turned back to you.

“No, that’s my mother,” you answered as you stare down at your wallpaper that showcases a picture with you and your mother in what seemed to be in a professional setting as you both were seated on what seemed to be on an antique-like style couch while wearing similar baby-blue colour dresses as you had a familiar bouquet of blue hydrangeas with white roses in hand.

“Really?! She looks so young,” Kugisaki commented, as she, in a state of shock, grabbed your wrist and looked closer into the screen to observe the picture. “You really suit baby-blue as well, but black is more of your suit in my opinion,” your classmate commented as she released her grip before lifting her head off your shoulder to peer at your outfit.

At this current moment in time, you were wearing some black nylon cargo joggers as well as black trainers paired with a long-sleeved black cropped top since you knew it was going to be a little hot today but you never really liked wearing bright colours - you were just more comfortable with darker ones like your uniform.

“Do you think so? So, should I get this Balenciaga bag then?” you asked as you tilted the phone towards her to show the bag that has been on your wishlist for some time.

“You like Balenciaga too?!” Kugisaki screamed in shock as she turned to you with widened eyes, resulting in your doing the same, only for you both to then suddenly thoroughly search the whole website to tell each other your favourite items while planning a shopping trip together since you both were giving each other ideas on clothing to purchase.

“That’s such a cute jumper,” you commented, as you, once again, presented Kugisaki your phone for her to agree with you before showing a jacket that she has been eyeing for quite some time. “That looks so good, you could pair it with a jean skirt and maybe a top, maybe orange to match your hair,” you commented, leading Kugisaki to smile and nod at you.

“That jumper is quite long, so you could wear like a cropped white turtleneck or maybe the same coloured blue dress shirt, add that to your wishlist!” Kugisaki mentioned, while at the same time pressing the heart icon to add the item on your wishlist without you lifting a single finger.

Suddenly, while you two were busy looking up items together, a sudden shadow overcast you both leading you to look up to find a roughed up Fushiguro in front of you before he mentioned that it was Kugisaki’s turn to train which cause her to pout before giving her phone to you, so you could take care of it before making her way to the two second-years that were waiting for her as the shikigami user took her seat.

“How was it?” you asked, as you closed your phone, only to hear a sigh from your classmate.

“It’s not bad, just not used to using weapons,” Fushiguro commented, as he stared out into the distance to see Kugisaki running away from Panda with Zenin looking at them in complete confusion.

“We got more than a month left, you should be fine,” you commented, as you looked at your phone screen to see the date. “Besides, you won’t constantly use them but it’s good to use since you can combine physical attacks with weapon attacks when it comes to battle,” you explained as you continued to stare at the family photo on your phone.

‘When was the last time I wore a dress like that?’ you thought, as you tilted your head in confusion.

“What was the reason you kept being on the run?” Fushiguro suddenly asked, causing you to break from your trance to turn to look at your classmate in confusion, only to discover a nonchalant look on his face like it was a common question to ask - maybe it was for the jujutsu sorcerer world.

“Because I’m not supposed to exist Fushiguro, you’re a Zenin by blood, you should know that my clan shouldn’t exist after the golden age, we disappeared,” you answered since you were perplexed on why the sorcerer beside you, asked a question with an answer that he probably already knows.

“But you’re a powerful sorcerer, you wouldn’t have that much trouble would you?” Fushiguro asked, leading you to shift your eyes down to avoid any eye contact before turning back to the track field in front of you to see the now common sight of Kugisaki being spun around in the air by Panda.

“I don’t know what they’ll do to me, I don’t need a bounty on my head everywhere I go, it was better for me to hide in the shadows as long as the L/N clan did,” you answered with a hushed tone, to which Fushiguro barely caught since you turned so quiet.

                                             ꕥ

“If any of the other clans knew of her existence, she would be forced to bring the L/N clan back up again or forced into a marriage,” Gojo explained, as he relaxed in his usual black chair, while Fushiguro leaned against the windows of the room they were at right now.

“Marriage?” Fushiguro questioned in confusion since he was confused on what the point of you being in a forced marriage when you were enough as a sorcerer by yourself.

“To continue the inheritance of her cursed technique,” Gojo informed his student, as he sat up from his relaxed posture. “Her inherited cursed technique is an extremely powerful one that any sorcerer wants, I don’t think she has mastered all the extreme spells as of this moment in time, but she knows what she is doing,” Gojo expanded on his explanation while tilted his glasses down to eye his student to check if he understood what he had said so far.

“But what would a marriage between the clans do? It would only decrease the change of the technique even being inherited,” Fushiguro asked, only for his teacher to smirk.

“I’m sure Y/N knows this, but that’s what the Zenin Clan demanded back in the Heian era before Sukuna was sealed, that a marriage was needed to ‘strengthen their power’ only for the L/N clan to refuse,” Gojo stated bluntly causing Fushiguro eyes to widen, as the Six Eye sorcerer continued with, “her real existence must be kept a secret and that’s my job now as her adoptive father since I’ve been entrusted with her safety,”.

“Entrusted? By who? L/N?” Fushiguro interrogated in a perplexed tone, only to receive a shrug at the end, gaining no answer to his pending question.

                                              ꕥ

Continuously staring at you, Fushiguro couldn’t but recall the conversation he had with Gojo, remembering the details that were mentioned within the chat. There was no surprise in his mind now on why you were extremely anxious about him and Gojo when you first met them; you probably thought you were going to be forced into something that you didn’t want to happen.

“Do you…hate me?”

“Huh?” you confusingly said before quickly turning your head to look at Fushiguro, once again seeing his usually stoic face looking straight at you while you gave him the surprised look. “What makes you ask that?” you queried since you didn’t expect him to ask such a question especially since you both had worked together for a few weeks now as well as fought together against Sukuna back at the Eushi Detention Centre.

“Since I’m a Zenin by blood, do you-” Fushiguro explained before he was cut off by you flicking his forehead with your finger in an annoyed manner, as the impact reflected on your emotions causing Fushiguro to wince slightly at the pain since he didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Why would I hate you? As much as I hate the Zenin clan for what they did to my clan, you and Zenin-senpai ain’t that bad. In fact, you both ain’t bad at all,” you stated before sighing in annoyance since it was an extremely stupid question for him to ask. “Fushiguro, if I hated you, I would have made you fight Sukuna alone and wait until he came to me, don’t you think, you drag?” you rhetorically asked, before lightly slapping the side of his head to shake some of his brain cells to wake up before looking at the track field to see Kugisaki getting up from the floor with an angered expression as she demanded a re-match causing you to giggle lightly at the sight.

“We’re cool Fushiguro, there’s no need to worry about it,” you reassured the sorcerer, before standing up on your feet with your hand out towards your classmate’s direction.

“Come on, it seems like we’re taking a break and about to run some errands for the second-years,” you commented, causing Fushiguro to turn to look at the field to see Inumaki signalling a timeout sign before imitating a drinking action, informing you both to get some water for them as well as yourselves.

Taking your hands, he pulled himself up before you both disconnected your hands, leading you to turn around to grab the desired bottles of water that were required before coming back to resume training.

“Gojo! Wait for me, we need to talk more about our shopping trip!” Kugisaki loudly shouted, causing you to halt and turn your head to see your classmate rushing up the stairs to come to you before resuming once she was by your side.

Slowly from behind, Fushiguro decided to walk behind you both as he knew his upperclassmen would tell him to hurry up with the errands that they had placed on your three.

“You really need to stop with your assaults Gojo,” Fushiguro stated, as he pressed his index and middle finger on the middle of his forehead, as he remembered the pain that came along with your flick as well as complaining about the side head slap he had gained from you.

“Nah, you just got to stop asking stupid questions Fushiguro,” you commented back before asking Kugisaki want she was planning to get.

‘So make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

‘I’m trying mother,’ you thought, as you tightly gripped your phone that was still in your pocket.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.7 | Brittana

A/N - And just like that, Lockdown 6.0 is upon us LOL. Good news, more time to write. Bad news, boredom looms. Anyway, thank you to those who have left lovely reviews and/or have gifted me with a coffee through ko-fi. I hope you all know that those emails are some of the first I read when I wake up in the morning - instant happiness! 🥰

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Being ambushed by parents ends up turning into a trend for Santana when the following weekend Maribel decides to make a spontaneous trip to New York. Apparently there’s some banquet dinner Eddie is attending which Maribel’s accompanying him to.

The invite was extended to Santana as well, but those dinners are always super boring so she blew it off with an excuse about spending time with Brittany instead since their schedules have been so busy.

What she didn’t expect is for Maribel to make an unexpected pit stop at hers and Puck’s place beforehand, hoping to at least say hi to the happy couple.

Problem is – half of said couple isn’t here.

“Mami, we’re just really busy with this assignment,” Santana tries – hoping that it would be enough to deter her mom for awhile considering Brittany isn’t around. “It’s really getting down to the wire, can’t we see you tomorrow?”

“Ay Santana, I’m already on the way,” Maribel replies in a huff. “It’s only a quick visit and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t you just like…skip it and continue on your way?”

“I haven’t seen you since New Year’s and I came all this way to see you – “

“You’re not even here for me, you’re here for Eddie.”

Suddenly there’s a pause and Santana wonders if that little comment just got her into some hot water.

“Why don’t you want to see your mother?” Maribel asks instead. “Are you hiding something from me? You and Puck aren’t up to something again, are you? Roping in Brittany?”

Santana’s eyes go big and it feels like she’s just swallowed a handful of sand. Her heart rate’s picking up and she’s struggling to come up with an answer. She feels like she’s got a hot spotlight on her; thank God her mom can’t actually see her right now!

“We’re not,” Santana finally says. “Like I said, Brittany and I are just a little busy with this assignment…but I guess we can take a break for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Maribel praises. “We’ll be around in about twenty minutes.”

Santana gulps, “Great. See you then.”

Once she hangs up, she grabs the nearest pillow and yells into it. The muffled screams have Puck running out of his room so fast that he clips the doorframe with his shoulder. A loud thud echoes throughout Santana’s room as Puck stumbles and looks around frantically.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We’ve got a Code Red,” Santana tells him.

His eyes drift down to her lap then back up as he starts to grimace, “Oh. Do you like…need things?”

Santana scrunches her brow but then she realizes what he’s talking about.

“No, not that Code Red,” She explains. “Mom’s on her way. I need to get Brittany over here ASAP!”

“Oh shit!” Puck curses and takes off to the living to start tidying.

The last time Maribel came around for a surprise visit, she basically tore Puck a new one. Long story short, his version of clean isn’t the same as Maribel’s and they spent an entire afternoon together going through the various cleaning products that should be used around the house and what they should be used for.

Meanwhile, Santana rushes to make the call. She just hopes that Brittany won’t give her a hard time for this, hopefully she answers the damn phone!

“Hi?” Brittany answers questioningly.

“Hey,” Santana replies.

“Did you butt dial me or something?”

“What? No.”

“You just – you never call me.”

“Yeah well…I don’t have much time to explain, but I need you to come over like right now.”

“Uhh, I’m kind of in the middle of something.“

“Brittany, please,” Santana begs. “My mom’s on her way over and she’s fully expecting you to be here too.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I’m freaking out, that’s why!”

“Okay, well don’t freak out. It’ll be fine. How much time do I have?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Thanks for the warning.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Look, it took me by surprise too.”

“Alright well, find your cool. We can’t have her suspecting anything’s up.”

Santana nods, already feeling a little calmer. “Just hurry, okay?”

“I’m on my way now. Don’t worry.”

\\

When Maribel comes knocking on Santana’s door, the brunette loses all cool once again because Brittany’s still nowhere in sight. Santana’s looking at Puck, but he has no idea what to do either. Maybe they can stall until she gets here, but how? Maribel would totally think something’s up if they refuse to let her inside!

“Just let her in?” Puck whispers, “We can say Britt went to pick up our take-out?”

“And further confirm that I don’t fucking cook here? No way.”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“I don’t kn –“

“Santana?” Maribel calls out from the hall after another knock. “Hello?”

Puck’s eyes go wide, “She can hear us.”

“No shit, she knows I’m home.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking, fuck! Why am I so stressed out?”

Santana and Puck go back and forth trying to come up with some way to stall, but it’s impossible under the pressure.

“I think we have to let her in,” Santana tells Puck in a grave tone.

Puck looks at her uneasily, “I think so too.”

After checking her phone once more for an update from Brittany – there isn’t one – Santana goes to let Maribel and Eddie in. They’re both dressed to the nines, must be a fancy banquet dinner.

“Hi!” Santana greets, attempting to mask her uneasiness.

She’s quickly embraced in a motherly hug while Puck compliments his coach on his sick suit.

“How are you, mija?” Maribel asks as she cups Santana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Am I?” Santana feels the nerves rattling within her. Where the hell is Brittany?!

“Yes,” Maribel looks her over. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Just tired.”

“Because exams are coming up,” Puck clarifies.

“That’s right,” Santana nods. “Lots of studying to do if I want to ace them.”

Maribel nods, seemingly pleased by Santana’s work ethic.

“Yeah, plus her and Britt have also been super busy with this assignment they’re doing together,” Puck adds. “It’s a lot.”

“Ah yes,” Maribel looks around. “Where is Brittany?”

Santana clenches her jaw and looks to Puck. There’s a guilty smile on his face as he secretly mouths out a sorry. Still though, she has to think on her feet.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Santana replies. It’s not her best work, but it was the first thing she thought of. Maybe they can work with it?

“Yeah, I think she had a bad salad for lunch,” Puck tries again.

Santana glares at him and mouths a shut up that goes unnoticed by Maribel and Eddie.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Maribel frowns.

“Those salads are always a hit or miss,” Eddie confirms. “I try to stay away from them.”

“Don’t listen to Puck. It’s nothing like that,” Santana assures them. “Anyway, exam prep; super intense, long nights, tedious studying. I’m so ready for it to be over.”

Maribel looks apologetically at her, “Don’t work too hard.”

“That’s not what you taught me,” Santana quips.

“I know,” Maribel smiles. “I hope you’re at least wearing your glasses when you’re meant to. You know what all that reading can do to your eyes.”

“I am…”

“And rest, you still need it,” Maribel insists. “A tired mind won’t retain a thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

The four swivel around to find Brittany coming out of Santana’s bedroom. Her cheeks are a little pink – probably from the run over – but she’s her usual cool and collected self as she saunters over.

Santana’s never felt so relieved to see the girl! Question is though, how the hell did she pull off such an entrance?

“Brittany! Hi,” Maribel greets happily. “Are you feeling okay?”

There’s a glimpse of confusion as Brittany looks to Santana for an explanation.

“Mami, I told you she’s not sick. She was only in the bedroom to finish up a call with her mom,” Santana lies.

“Yeah. That was my bad, Mama Lopez,” Puck speaks up.

“Right,” Brittany quickly catches on. “Just my daily phone call with mom. Sorry about that, we can get carried away.”

“Oh don’t be,” Maribel smiles then glances to Santana. “Where’s my daily phone call?”

Santana fights the eye roll, “I’m clearly not as great as Brittany.”

“Now that’s a first,” Brittany smirks as she curls her arm around Santana. “I think you’re plenty great though.”

Santana finds herself blushing, “Thanks.”

There’s another pleased smile on Maribel’s face as she admires the couple. It’s a look Santana has rarely seen when it comes to her past partners and it makes her chest fill with pride. Even months later, her and Brittany still got it!

“Well, as promised this is only a quick visit,” Maribel tells them. “We really need to get going now, but while I’ve got you here: when are you coming home for a visit?”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look. They weren’t looking to make a visit for another few weeks, at least until after Spring Break. Free time is hard to come by now that they’re getting closer to the end of the semester.

“You know Abuela would like to see you both again,” Maribel adds.

Santana’s brows rise, “Would she now?”

“I think she’s warming up to things,” Maribel says vaguely but Santana gets it. “Wouldn’t hurt to come see her though. You know seeing pictures of you two together on Facebook has become a highlight for her.”

“Told you we’re cute,” Brittany jokes as she hugs Santana to her side.

“I should’ve known, she likes every single one them,” Santana quips.

“She wants to spend time with you,” Maribel explains and looks to Brittany. “She wants to spend time with the both of you.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, “Really? Has something changed?”

Maribel only shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her for yourself.”

Santana and Brittany glance at each other, both suddenly curious about Abuela’s change of heart.

“How about you come down for Spring Break?” Maribel suggests.

“Uhhh,” Santana stammers as she looks to Brittany, “We’re going to have to talk about it first. Brittany might have to – “

“Spring Break is fine with me,” Brittany shrugs.

“I thought you were planning on going home?” Santana lies – trying to get Brittany to catch on. “Spend time with your family?”

The blonde only shakes her head, “Nope. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Santana feels herself deflate; usually Spring Break is her time to finally let loose but she guesses there’s not much else she could get up to since she’s fake dating Brittany. She might as well just use the time to reinforce that she’s capable of being in a long term relationship.

By then, her and Brittany would be together for four months – that’s the longest relationship yet! Surely, that’ll have to mean something to her family.

“Well sure,” Santana sighs in defeat. “I can’t imagine spending my Spring break any other way than by returning to Lima.”

Maribel gives her a gleaming grin, “Perfect.”

\\

Once Maribel and Eddie head off to their banquet, Santana and Brittany collapse together on the couch. Puck hands them both a beer before cracking one open for himself and taking a seat opposite them.

“Way to sell it,” Puck raises his bottle. “Great work! It was cool to see you two in action like that. I can see why everyone eats this shit up. You’re pretty believable.”

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Santana quips.

“Looks like I came right on time too,” Brittany says.

“Yeah about that,” Santana looks to Brittany. “How the hell did you get into my room?”

“The window?” Brittany shrugs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t locked.

Santana’s eyes go wide, “You climbed through the window?”

“Well yeah, how else would I have gotten in? Through the vent?” Brittany jokes.

“Good thing we’re on the first floor,” Puck chuckles.

Brittany nods and clinks her bottle with his. Meanwhile Santana just stares at the blonde with her jaw slack. Not only did she run over here, she went through the effort of climbing through the window too!

The girl is crazy.

Santana doubts she would’ve gone to the same extent. No way she’d try getting her ass through a window, that’s just too much. But still, she supposes some thanking is in order.

“Well, I appreciate you going through all that,” Santana says bashfully. “I didn’t expect my mom to just pop up like that so…thanks for coming here so quickly.”

There’s a half-smirk on Brittany’s face and Santana anticipates her poking fun at how Santana’s actually thanking her for something, but it doesn’t come. Brittany just continues smiling as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for,” She tells her.

\\

Over the following days, Santana and Brittany often run into each other at the library. It’s not Santana’s preferred place to study but it’s hard for her to concentrate sometimes with Puck around.

Although Santana and Brittany are in the same place, they often sit separately.

Brittany keeps to her lone table in the study area while Santana sits somewhere in the upper level because she likes the view of the exit. It’s kind of like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that tunnel being the designated hour she makes herself study.

However, on one particular day all of the tables in the upper level are occupied. Santana finds herself scowling at the randoms before making her way down to the level beneath – where the study area is kept.

Like always, Brittany’s sitting alone near the back and Santana finds herself walking over to her without a second thought. She wasn’t planning on sharing the table with her, just maybe say hi and leave her be, but as Santana approaches the table she finds something unexpected there:

Spanish for Dummies

Intrigued, Santana’s eyes roam the table and find all sorts of similar books on the Spanish language mixed in with Brittany’s actual coursework. Then Santana takes a peek at Brittany’s laptop, trying to figure out what has her so consumed that she’s yet to notice her standing there.

There’s a little green owl going over conjugations – Spanish conjugations – and Santana watches as Brittany jots down notes as she mouths whatever words she hears through her headphones. Santana’s completely dumbfounded and pulls up a chair, the motion finally causes Brittany to jolt and turn.

Blue eyes spark with surprise before the headphones quickly come off. The girl looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Santana can’t help the fascination.

“Santana!” Brittany gasps. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s the library,” She answers simply. “I’m here to study.”

“Oh, duh. Of cour – “

“Are you teaching yourself Spanish?” Santana interrupts.

Brittany looks from her screen to the books on the table to Santana. She seems a little timid as she minimizes the program on her laptop. Santana wonders if she’s going to attempt to lie, but there’s too much evidence against her. There’s no way she could convince Santana that she’s doing otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Brittany admits with a nervous laugh. “I am.”

Santana quirks her brow, “What are you doing that for? Surely not for fun?”

Brittany shrugs, “The shows on Univision are great but I’m tired of reading subtitles.”

“Really?” Santana doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s like…a lot of work. Besides, I thought nerds like to read?”

Brittany gives her an unimpressed look, “Well…I also figured that if I knew a little Spanish then it’ll give Abuela and I something to bond over. I remember your aunts mentioning this one show she likes so I’ve kind of been binging it.”

“You’ve been binging telenovelas?” Santana asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah, the drama is addicting.”

“Oh wow,” Santana sits back. “So you’re serious about this?”

“Aren’t you?” Brittany replies.

“Yeah, but this is a new level.”

“Don’t you want to be as convincing as you can be?”

“There’s convincing and then there’s this,” Santana jokes. “Your over-achiever tendencies are showing again.”

“You jealous?” Brittany fires back. “I know how much you love it when your mom compares us.”

“I’m not jealous,” Santana turns up her nose.

Brittany smirks, “Just checking. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea.”

“Technically it was Puck’s.”

“Whatever,” Brittany says. “I’m going to do all that I can to make this work because I’m committed. You continue doing…whatever it is that you do.”

Santana tenses her jaw at the jab. It reminds her of the game they played before– the constant one-upping of each other – and she wonders if they’re still playing it.

She thinks about how she accidentally introduced herself to Brittany’s parents as her girlfriend. She remembers how Brittany now has to keep up this façade with them too thanks to the slip-up. She thinks about who this Artie guy is and why Brittany’s parents were wondering where he went.

But most importantly, she thinks about how underwhelming she is as a girlfriend.

She’s nothing like Brittany; she isn’t kind and sweet and she isn’t someone people take home to meet their parents. Santana’s the girl that helps you get over your ex, she’s the one college girls experiment with, she’s down for one night stands, down for no-strings-attached kind of hook ups – she’s not actual girlfriend material.

And oddly enough, she kind of feels bad that Brittany’s stuck with her for the time being. This fake relationship thing wasn’t meant to go beyond convincing Maribel, but that’s exactly what’s happened now thanks to her big mouth.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Santana says after the guilt starts setting in.

“I want to,” Brittany tells her.

Santana sighs; yet another reason why they’re so different.

“Learning a language just to get Abuela to like you?” Santana explains. “Don’t you think that’s kind of going overboard?”

“Not really. It’s kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well yeah, I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” Brittany replies. “Why not start now? Plus I meant what I said about the subtitles thing. It would be so much easier not having to read.”

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head, “How do you find the time? I’m swamped with studying and assignments and cheer practice. Here you are learning another language for fun.”

“I kind of have a photographic memory.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Of course you do.”

“I’m joking,” Brittany smirks. “I have a bunch of techniques that help cut down on the amount of time you’re actually studying so you don’t spend all your time doing it. I could…teach you some if you want?”

Santana lifts her chin, “I don’t need a tutor.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Brittany laughs. “Why are you always so quick to be on the defense?”

Santana crosses her arms and looks away, “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany grins. “I’ve got a study session with Puck on Thursday. I think it’s actually going to be at your place. We can not share study tips then if you want?”

Santana lets the offer roll around in her head but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.

“I might be around, depends if practice lets out on time.”

“Okay,” Brittany nods then looks at her laptop screen before glancing back at Santana who has yet to move. “So are you sitting with me now or…?”

“Oh!” Santana jolts to stand up. She gathers her bag from the ground and looks around for an empty table, but they’re all occupied.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Brittany tells her without looking away from the screen. “You can stay if you’d like.”

Santana looks around indecisively. She’d rather study alone, but that doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment. She can’t go home either with Puck around, so she guesses staying with Brittany is the next best thing.

“Okay,” Santana replies. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Brittany says.

Santana moves to the opposite end of the table while Brittany gathers her things in order for Santana to have more room on the table for hers. They sit silently like that working on their respective things for awhile, getting lost in their work.

Brittany ends up leaving the table for a moment and Santana barely notices until she’s placing a coffee in front of her.

“Oh thanks,” Santana smiles at the unexpected gesture.

Brittany doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile as she sits back down.

Another moment later when Santana gets peckish, she pulls out a bag of trail mix. She barely gives it a second thought when she places it between them so that Brittany can have some too if she wants.

\\

When Thursday comes around, Santana ends up leaving cheer practice on time for once. She’s quick to get out of there so that she can wash up and change out of her uniform before Brittany arrives, but she finds that the blonde is already there by the time she gets home.

“What up, Lopez!” Puck calls out to her as he sits with Brittany at their tiny dining table.

Brittany looks up too, her eyes moving from their work to Santana who lingers by the front door. There’s a small smile that begins to curl her lips and Santana finds herself returning it with her own little grin.

“Hi,” She greets as she kicks of her tennis shoes. It was meant for Puck but it seems that it’s directed at Brittany.

“Hey,” Brittany replies.

“How was practice?” Puck asks, just now lifting his head from the work before him.

“Got bumped up to flyer,” Santana says casually although it’s pretty exciting news. She comes around to the kitchen for a drink, “Erica apparently has brittle bones from what Coach says.”

“No way!” Puck cheers, “That’s so awesome!”

“What’s a flyer?” Brittany asks, looking between the two.

“The girls that do stunts in the air,” Santana answers.

“Oh,” Brittany’s brows rise. “That’s…isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“You worried about me?” Santana teases as she comes around to sit on the stool next to them. She crosses her legs, her cheer skirt hugging her thighs tightly. “Didn’t you say cheer was boring?”

Puck grins as he looks to Brittany for a rebuttal, but the blonde looks stumped.

Actually, the blonde looks distracted.

When Santana realizes that she’s staring at her legs, it’s like a personal victory for her. It was only a matter of time before the skirt wins!

Puck notices the distraction too and glances between his friends, a knowing smirk starting to form.

“Anyway,” Santana says as she finishes off her glass of water.

The sound of her voice breaks Brittany from her trance, but blue eyes are dark with something Santana’s familiar with but has yet to see on her. It makes her smirk; she’s missed having that kind of power over someone. It’s the sexual magnetism, it never fails her.

“Might hit the shower now,” Santana adds before looking to Brittany. “You going to be here much longer?”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Okay,” Santana can’t help the flirtatious tone now that she knows she’s got Brittany wrapped around her finger. The teasing is the most fun she’s had in awhile! “Maybe you can show me some things once you’re done with him?”

Brittany gulps, “Yeah sure.”

Puck notices what Santana’s doing and interrupts, “Uh…what’s happening right now?”

“Can it, Puckerman,” Santana waves off although her smile remains devilish. “What’s the point of having a fake girlfriend if I can’t fake flirt with them too?”

Brittany’s face goes a little red as she finally snaps back to reality.

“You call that flirting?” Brittany jokes.

“Fake flirting.”

Brittany shakes her head as she smirks, “I still don’t understand how you pick up any girls.”

“Judging by the look that’s been on your face since I walked in, I think you do.”

Puck looks back and forth between the two again like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“How about I order a pizza for later?” He suggests in attempt to break up the bickering before it escalates.

“Sounds good,” Santana says without taking her eyes off Brittany.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “Sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck replies and looks to Santana. “Go shower now. You’re distracting everyone.”

“She’s not distracting me,” Brittany said pointedly.  

Santana quirks her brow and smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, Britt-Britt.”

She lets her hips sway in that well-practiced way as she leaves the room. She doesn’t have to look to know that Brittany’s yet to stop staring and she struggles to hold back the laughter as she gets ready for a shower.

\\

Despite the teasing game she played earlier, Santana sits in Puck’s place at the tiny dining table across from Brittany with a scowl on her face. This studying thing? She’s had enough of it.

“This is pointless. Education is pointless. I’m gonna become a stripper instead,” Santana huffs.

“You'd probably make so much money!” Puck jokes from his place on the couch.

“Probably? Please,” Santana lifts her chin. “I'd make it rain every night!”

Puck laughs and throws his arm over the back of the couch to look at the pair.

“What do you think, Britt?” Puck presses with a smirk. “Think Santana would make it rain?”

Santana smirks too and looks to Brittany for answer.

“I think…I'm kind of hungry,” Brittany says. “How far away is the pizza?”

Santana’s smirk falls at the way Brittany deflects the question. Since Santana’s return, Brittany’s been a little quieter. Santana figured she’s just stuck in study mode and that she’d loosen up eventually, but she’s still waiting.

“I should probably head over now actually,” Puck realizes after checking his phone.

“Take me with you,” Santana jokes. “I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Brittany sighs, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know that’s a struggle for me.”

“True,” Brittany jokes. “Hey, if we finish this chapter tonight I’ll let you use my pretty pens to take notes?”

"Tempting, but I don't need your pretty pens,” Santana says flatly. She rests back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “What I need is alcohol and several orgasms. I clearly didn't think this fake dating thing through. I've never been so sexually deprived.”

Puck goes to grab his keys, “And on that note – I’ll be back in a few.”

Meanwhile, Brittany just snickers to herself but she isn’t laughing with Santana and it has the brunette frowning.

“What?” Santana questions as Puck leaves.

Brittany shakes her head, “It must be so hard for you to keep it in your pants for once.”

“You have no idea. Who knew that the last time would be the last time. I sure didn’t!”

Brittany shakes her head again and goes back to her work. It makes Santana feel a little on edge and straightens up in her chair.

“I'm obviously joking,” Santana adds and it makes Brittany look up. “What's it to you if I wasn't though?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany asks.

“Your interest in my sex life.”

Brittany scoffs and looks back to her work, “I'd hardly call it an interest.”

Santana folds her arms across her chest, “So you're secretly some kind of prude?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Brittany sighs and looks up at her again, “Why are we even talking about this?”

Santana notices the change in her tone and perks up. She abandons her work all together in favor of leaning in.

“Because it's way more interesting?” Santana presses. “I know you're trying to deflect, you might as well just answer. If not, I'll assume the reason it gets your panties all in a twist is because you're secretly jealous.”

“I'm definitely not jealous.”

“So it’s the other option,” Santana says. “You’re a prude.”

“No!” Brittany huffs. She softens when she realizes she raised her voice. There’s a timidness to her when she explains, “I just, I guess I believe in developing the feelings part first before the physical happens.”

Santana softens too but for a different reason. It’s more so confusion than anything else.

"Why?” She asks.

“Because with feelings it's better,” Brittany says simply.

“Are you kidding?” Santana quips. “It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Brittany looks at her sympathetically. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. God, who hurt you?”

Santana didn’t expect her comment to strike a nerve. The memory of short blonde hair and a cunning smile sneaks its way past Santana’s defenses as she mutters, “One guess.”

Brittany looks at her curiously before something clicks, “Oh. The girl.”

Santana doesn’t like where this is going and pushes away the overwhelming feelings that beg to bust through. She walls herself up, holds her chin high and swallows back the lump.

“Yeah well,” Santana brushes off. “I think it's pretty unrealistic to go out there thinking every potential lay has to be relationship material first. Where's the fun in that?”

Brittany continues to eye her like she’s wounded and Santana hates it.

“The fun part is getting to know someone first so when it does happen,” Brittany pauses as she bites her lip. “It's meaningful.”

Santana averts her eyes, because staring into Brittany’s makes her feel far too exposed. Instead she retreats in on herself to place she’s comfortable, she takes the attention off of her.

“Gross. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic,” Santana jokes.

Brittany sighs through a soft smile, “Call me old fashioned I guess.”

“Super old fashioned,” Santana quips. “Like, are you telling me you've never had a steamy quickie with a random? Everybody's got one.”

Brittany looks away and as she smirks, “Of course I have. I’m not that innocent.”

Santana perks up, “Really? Miss Goodie Two Shoes getting down and dirty without before being properly courted? God, I want details…”

Brittany snickers, “Not happening.”

“What?” Santana shifts in her seat excitedly. “Come on, what's a little girl talk between friends or are you the type that doesn’t kiss and tell because lame.”

Brittany looks up at her and smirks, “You saying we're friends?”

“Will it get you talking?”

Brittany laughs, “We should get back to work now. You've derailed us for long enough.”

“Come on, Britt-Britt,” Santana coos jokingly. “We've been at it for hours. I'm burnt out, sober and in dire need of sex.”

“None of that is my problem.”

“Sure it is,” Santana jokes. “The least you can do is tell me a couple of your kinky stories to get me through the night.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Brittany gives her a look, but Santana just bats her eyelashes. It makes Brittany laugh and she softens once again.

“Actually, I might be able to help you out.”

Santana sits straighter, “It was only a matter of time…”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Get over yourself. Not every girl on campus wants you, including me.”

Santana laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Britt-Britt.”

“Anyway,” Brittany continues, “I'm talking about a swanky party – a ball even.”

“A ball, you say?” Santana’s interest is piqued.

“Totally.”

“You've got my attention…”

“Well, there’s going to be an open bar, free food, an excuse to dress up and let loose. That ticks off two out of three on your list.”

Santana quirks a brow, “And the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There's gotta be a catch.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany slumps. “It's the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

“The what?” Santana deadpans.

“The Brainiacs’ Ball,” Brittany clarifies. “It's open to all the academic decathlon clubs across the city, this year we’re hosting. The team with the highest winning percentage is named and also the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is given out. It's the biggest night for the club.”

“Oh, hell no,” Santana chuckles. “There’s not enough free alcohol in the world to get me to go to that. Count me out.”

Brittany starts to frown, “What? Why?”

Santana shakes her head, “One of your matches was enough. I'm not going to a party where I have to be surrounded by all of you at once.”

“It won't be that bad,” Brittany sighs. “It's a night for celebrating. No trivia unless you count the bad puns you might hear.”

“I've seen the guys on your team,” Santana explains. “I can't be liable for the feelings I'd definitely hurt if I were to be around them. I’d be triggered by pocket protector.”

“But you'll mostly be with me,” Brittany tries.

“That doesn’t really help your case.”

Brittany gives her a look, “Well, I kind of need you to go.”

“You need me to go?”

“Well yeah, I don't want to be the only one there without a date,” Brittany reasons. “Plus wouldn't it be suspicious if you didn't go considering we're a thing?”

Santana lets out a laugh, thinking that she’s finally caught on.

“So that it explains it,” She says.

“Explains what?”

“The coffee the other day, sharing study tips, being here,” Santana goes on, “You’ve been setting yourself up to ask me to your dumb ball.”

Brittany tenses, “'First of all, it's not dumb.”

“Sorry. I should've said nerdy,” Santana clarifies.

“I wasn’t doing those things for this,” Brittany tells her. “I was… I did them to be nice. We don’t always have to be at each other. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.”

Santana shakes her head as she gets to thinking. She knows Brittany’s cunning too, she knows that she can play games so who’s to say she wasn’t playing this time?

“I'm not going,” Santana replies. “You can tell people I'm sick or something.”

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “Right. So this relationship thing only works when it's in your favor?”

Santana frowns at the harshness of Brittany’s tone, something that doesn’t feel right coming from the blonde.

“What are you talking about?” Santana huffs. “That’s not – “

“We always do what you want,” Brittany interrupts. “Whatever makes you look good but this one time I ask you for something and it's just a flat out no?”

Brittany’s face has gone a little red and Santana’s further surprised – she didn’t think it was this big of a deal. She doesn’t grasp why Brittany’s so worked up all of sudden. Why would she want someone there with her if they didn’t want to be there in the first place?

“Look, it's better if I don't go because if one dork in clunky black glasses wearing suspenders and a hideous bowtie crosses paths with me I won't be able to contain myself,” Santana argues. “I'll end up hurting someone's feelings and you said it yourself, it's a night for celebration.”

Brittany looks at her like she’s hit a new low. Hell, maybe she just did.

“You're unbelievable,” Brittany huffs as she stands and starts gathering her things.

“What?” Santana watches her with a sudden ache in her chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Clearly,” Brittany mutters. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“All because I don’t want to go?”

Brittany shakes her head, another bitter laugh escaping her.

“No,” She says gravely. “It’s because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Santana tenses at the way her words drip with disdain, but at the same time it puts her on the defense.

“Well sorry that I’m not like you,” Santana argues. “Sorry I can’t just slip into character with ease and be your perfect fake girlfriend whenever you want. Sorry I’m not on all the time like you are.”

Brittany just stares at her for a moment, studying Santana’s face before she speaks again.

“Just when I think I’ve figured you out,” Brittany continues. “Just when I think you’re actually a half-decent person and that maybe beneath this prickly exterior of yours, there’s actually something – someone – deserving of…of a friend you go and prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Santana slumps back in her chair, dejected and defeated.  

Even if Brittany didn’t physical hit her, those words sure did. She can’t even speak as she watches Brittany gather the last of her things and storm out. What’s worse is that she swears she sees blue eyes tinging red just before she turns away.

Santana slaps her hand at the table when the door slams shut behind Brittany. She instantly feels the sting of wood on her open palm.

Why? Why does she always have to screw things up like this?

\\

Puck comes through the door just a minute later, looking confused as well.

“So I just passed Britt in the hall,” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, she left.”

Puck slowly closes the door behind him, “Why?”

“Because,” Santana lets out a long puff of air. She feels the lump forming again in her throat, strange and unwelcome. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Dude,” His face falls. “Please tell me you didn’t try to make a move on her. The games earlier were cute and all but – “

“No,” Santana quickly answers. “I didn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?” Puck asks. “She looked really upset.”

Santana presses her lips tightly together, she’s almost ashamed to admit the truth.

“She wanted me to go to some ball with her,” Santana says dismissively. “I told her no.”

“You told her no?” Puck quirks a brow.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Puck frowns. “After all the stuff she’s done for you, you can’t?”

“Look, I can see where I fucked up okay?” Santana snaps. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Puck shakes his head as he backs off. “You really are an idiot.”

Santana agrees but she doesn’t tell him that.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” Santana tries convincing him. “It’ll be nothing but those academic decathlon nerds and not just the ones from Brittany’s team. It’ll be like ten times that! They’ll be from all over the city and you know how I am around the general public especially when I’m provoked. I could screw up and expose us both. It’s too risky.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, just listens to her excuses.

“I can’t do it,” Santana tells him with finality. “I can’t. Brittany might be pissed at me right now, but she’ll see it’s for the best. I’d just ruin her night because I don’t know how to act anyway. She’ll come around, she has to.”

���Sure Santana,” Puck dismisses and goes to flip open the pizza box. “So…does this mean I can have her pizza too?”

Santana just shakes her head, “Shut up.”

[adelaidedrubman]

wip weekend?

tagged by @scungilliwoman to post a wip, thank you so much!! i’ve been unfocused with writing lately and i know it’s been a while since i posted much of anything, so i’m sharing a few excerpts from the projects i’ve been jumping between. sending tags along to @shallow-gravy @faithchel @strafethesesinners @stacispratt @johnnycranes @honeysides @chazz-anova @vasiktomis @chyrstis @aceghosts and whoever else would like to share!!

first, wildfire chapter 10, which i promise is still in production and on the way:

“John,” she finally spoke, growling the name out like a curse that disgusted her to her core, but giving him that look of plain and simple recognition nonetheless. The slightest flutter of heat spread through his chest. There always was something deeply satisfying about those moments she finally looked at him. He didn’t take any further action, glaring over her shoulder to ward off the faithful creeping in for another effort at approaching her, allowing her the next move instead. 

And then it happened. She lifted a hand to press against his chest and rest it there. Tentatively at first, much more gentle and unsurely than she’d ever reached for him before. But she leaned into the touch, shifting her weight into it and bringing her other hand to grip at the fabric of his sleeve to use him to support herself as she struggled to remain balanced and upright. 

“I’m proving…” she mumbled slowly, eyes now gazing off into the distance but remaining clear and focused as the cogs turned in her mind, obviously struggling more than usual to conjure some clever retort. “Fuck you,” she gave up to snarl halfheartedly at him instead, pressing more weight against him as she leaned closer. 

“Point proven,” he hummed with discordant boredom as he situated a hand at the small of her back to help support her.

next, one of the many, many prompts i’ve owed y’all forever (i promise i don’t just throw the asks back into the void)

But she was frankly too annoyed to do the smart thing at the moment, and instead she forcefully threw her car door open and slammed it shut just as hard before walking around to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips. 

“No,” she said curtly and sternly, glaring at the man still looking overly satisfied. 

“Good morning!” he chimed unaffected, pushing the sunglasses back to rest on his head and flash bright blue eyes as he rose to stand. “How have you —”

“No,” she repeated again, adding a stern shake of her head this time. “Absolutely fucking not. No.”

“No to what, exactly?” John asked with a wry smile, shoving one hand into the pocket of his shorts while the other waved in a questioning arc with fingers sprawled and pointed towards the sky. 

“To you being here,” she growled, pointing her own accusatory index directly at him. “It’s Monday. That’s my fuckin’ weekend ever since you fucked up my job and —”

“I think that’s a mischaracterization of —”

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” 

He bobbed his head back as if in wounded surprise, lowering his hand to press against his chest. “I was waiting for you,” he offered. “You told me you were planning to go fishing this morning. I assumed it was an invitation to come along.”

“Well,” he hummed as he stepped forward towards her, bending at the waist to lean in and even their heights as he trailed eyes along her face. “Frankly because you’ve never actually told me where you planned to be, or when, or what you would be doing there, or truly any personal information before. So I assumed you doing it last night was your roundabout way of asking me to accompany you,” he explained, ignoring her defensive posture to rest a hand against her arm. 

She scrunched her mouth and wrinkled her nose, squinting to glare at him and raising her shoulders as she crossed her arms. “Why the fuck would you assume that?”

finally, a bit from a faith/tracey role reversal au slash alternative backstory fic i’ve been working on as a little passion project!! cw on this one for some references to drug withdrawals

Satisfied she wouldn’t be throwing up in the immediate present, Rachel dropped the wastebasket back to the floor. Then her body moved in reflex again to perform the second step of its memorized morning routine — reaching a tired arm out along the bed to find Tracey, pull her close and cling to her warmth until her shaking had subsided enough she could find the strength to rise. But, finding only tangled and sweat dampened bedding at her side, her tired mind finally remembered that was different now, too. She’d slept apart from Tracey for the past two nights, the girls having been assigned to separate bunkhouses in the small community they’d come to detox in. 

Instead, as Rachel rolled back over and finally mustered the energy to open her eyes, she was met with wide saucer greens already staring back at her and a cheery smile from a woman sitting atop her already neatly made bed across the room. 

“You’re feeling better.” The woman said it as a statement rather than a question, letting her lips part to show more of her teeth in a friendly grin as she looked proudly at her roommate. 

“I am,” Rachel agreed, voice still somewhat rough with sleep as she gave a ringing little cough to clear her throat, then pushed herself up to sit with surprising ease. Her muscles still ached with soreness, but didn’t tremble or complain as they had been. She shifted along the bed to touch the pads of her feet against the hardwood, tentatively putting weight onto until she stood straight. “A lot better,” she tacked on brightly, “Amazingly so. It’s like a miracle. I have no idea why.” 

[merakimelareloaded]

Beauty is the Beast

The following fan fic is my @mlsecretsanta gift for @buggachat for the 2020 gift exchange.

I sincerely hope Buggachat enjoys this fic, as her content has brought me a lot of joy over this past year and this gift is a chance to pay some of that back. It’s a multi-chapter fic, and I’ll be working as hard as I can to update it frequently.

Summary:  When a talented young bard with something to prove walks into the life of an isolated young lord with a dark secret, not only do they find themselves drawn to each other, but also closer to the thruth about themselves.

Rating: I recommend Teen & up, as there will be some description of semi-graphic violence down the road.

Read on Ao3 instead

Chapter One: Enter the Bard

It was a quiet, average day for most in the bustling village of Miracule. Most, excluding one young bard named Nino Lahiffe, who was currently doing his best not to panic as he made his way to his new job at the Agreste estate. As an excessively wealthy noble family, they could afford to hire not only cleaning staff and knights, but also entertainers such as musicians and jesters. What Nino wasn’t expecting at the time of his hire, was that he was expected to move into one of the spare rooms of the property, so that if anyone in the family felt the urge to listen to music, he’d be there within five minutes. At the time he was too stunned to turn it down, but as he approached the gates, he wished he had. The idea of living with snobby rich people only for the sake of catering to their whims sounded awful, and that’s before thinking about how much they’d judge his appearance and his lack of etiquette. So far, he’d only met the head of staff, and even she looked down on him! He didn’t even understand why he got the job in the first place.

“If those people are smart, they’re going to care more about how talented you are than how expensive your clothes are.” His mother had said that morning. He almost laughed at that, remembering that with Princess Chloe as the only noble person he had met before, there was every chance they’d care more about his clothes than how well he can play the lute. He figured even if they were all as dreadful as the princess, it would still be worth it for the salary he’d expect on the job. With the money he’d be able to send back home, his parents would be able to upgrade their house to make it safer at night, lest the beast that terrorises the village and surrounding areas feels the urge to attack. It hadn’t ventured that far into the village too often, but it cheered him greatly to know he was helping keep his loved ones safe.

Reaching the gates, his thoughts immediately sobered. Guarding the entrance were two intimidatingly large men, who both glowered down at him as he came to a stop before them. Quickly, it dawned on him that he had not been given instructions for entering the estate. Watching their expressions grow impatient, he cleared his throat.

“G-Good morning.” He stammered out. The men didn’t react at all, faces locked as if waiting for him to say anything of value.

“I’m meant to be starting work here today as an in-house musician. My Name is Nino Lahiffe.” He continued. Still no reaction. Suddenly, Nino became anxious of the chance that he had misunderstood what he’d been told. Was he meant to arrive a different day? Was he not meant to come at all, and he hadn’t actually been hired?

“H-Has Madame Sancouer told you I was coming, or do you need to check with her before letting me in?” Nino asked, hoping name dropping the head of staff and a question would spring the imposing men into action. While the one on the left didn’t move, the one on the right let out an unpleasant laugh.

“You expect me to believe that Lord Agreste went and hired a scrawny street urchin instead of some upper-class musician?” The one on the right questioned in a cruel, mocking tone. Nino furrowed his brow, forcing his anger to quell as much as he could.

“No, but I do expect you to believe he’d pick me. I am no street urchin, sir.” Nino replied as firmly as he could. He may not have anywhere near as much wealth as the Agrestes, but he was far from destitute. Even if he was, it gave the man no right to look down on him. The laughing expression dropped back to a scowl, now far more irritated than before.

“You’ve got some nerve talking to me like that! I ought to beat you bloody and leave you for the beast, you little –”

“That’s quite enough, Sir Talan.” A sharp, familiar voice interrupted. Through the gaps in the metal gate, Nino could make out Madame Sancouer standing stoically behind it.

“You were instructed to intimidate away unwanted guests, not insult those who have been invited here. As a member of Lord Agreste’s staff it is unacceptable for you address your equals in such fashion, even more so for him to be seen talked to in such a way. You won’t be warned again.” She scolded coldly, not looking up from the scroll in her hand. Without any warning, the guard on his left silently turned to pull the lever behind him, which seemed to activate something metallic sounding and before he knew it the gate was lifting.

“Follow me, Lahiffe. Lord Agreste does not have all day.” Madame Sancouer said blankly, before pivoting sharply and walking further into the property. Nino ducked past the intimidating men, pretending not to see the one on the right scowling angrily at him, and paced quickly to catch up with the woman. His stomach flipped with anxiety as he followed her down the path leading through a large courtyard scattered with knights who were training very intensely. Between the imposing gate guards and Madame Sancouer, he wasn’t sure who he was more intimidated by. Sure, those men could probably snap his neck with one hand, but Madame Sancouer had complete control over them, not to mention she could read. He didn’t even know if noble women were allowed to read, let alone someone who was part of the working class. If she’s expected to read, what expectations did this Lord Agreste have of him?

Sooner than he’d have liked, they had wound through several hallways until they reached a set of large doors that Nino could only describe as “excessively glamourous”, as the carvings in the rich oak were far more elaborate than he’d ever think was necessary. Looking over at Madame Sancouer, Nino couldn’t help but feel as though she looked somewhat nervous. The feeling in his stomach worsened. If she was nervous, then he really didn’t stand a chance. Madame Sancouer schooled her expression back to neutral very quickly, before knocking clearly on the door.

“What is it Nathalie?” A man’s voice called, muffled but the door.

“I have brought the court musician I had hired. I thought it be best you appraise him before he settles.” Madame Sancouer replied with a clear, yet blank tone.

“Very well. Enter.” The voice said abruptly. Without hesitating, Madame Sancouer pulled the one of the double doors open and gave a subtle gesture for Nino to enter.

If he thought the doors were a lot, they were only a taste of what was to come with the room they lead to. Between the chandelier and the gilded tapestries, everything about the room screamed “I have more money than I know what to do with”. Towards the centre back of the room stood a massive, black table that was just as elaborately carved as the door. Standing on the other side of the table was an older man with fading blond hair that was slicked back out of his face, which wore an expression that somehow showed focus and boredom at the same time as he looked down at the map that was spread out in front of him. The fact that the man was yet to look up gave Nino the confidence to shift his focus to the painting on the wall behind him. The painting was enormous, stretching from the floor to the ceiling in height, and depicted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t believe a real person could hold such beauty, so he could only speculate that either she was the product of an artist’s imagination, or the woman’s feature’s have been heavily embellished. Before he could ponder if that were commonplace for nobles and royalty, the man standing at the table looked up at him, forcing Nino’s attention back down to meet his gaze. He immediately regretted making eye contact with the man, as the moment their eyes locked, Nino felt as though he had been shot with an arrow with how sharp his gaze was. Was he not meant to make eye contact with the lord? Should he look away? Or would looking away show weakness? Nino severely wished he knew the first thing about etiquette before coming to this nightmare place.

“Nathalie.” Was all the man said, not breaking eye contact with Nino.

“Yes, my lord?” Madame Sancouer voiced.

“That is a child.” The lord stated. Nino bit back a retort, knowing that talking back to this man would be the stupidest thing he could do in this moment. He wasn’t a child, he was seventeen and soon to be eighteen, so he was essentially an adult at this stage in his life. Hell, most in the village were considered adults by the time they were sixteen as they could efficiently work and bear children. Nino was even tall for his age, so he’d gone passed annoyed and into confused as to why this man thought he was a child.

“I believe a more fitting term would be young adult.” Madame Sancouer commented dryly, which surprised Nino. He wasn’t expecting her to be in a position to sass her boss.

“That may be, but in terms of what talent he could have possibly accumulated in his life for music, he is essentially a child. I know I made it clear that you were to find the best.” Lord Agreste elaborated in an irritated tone, his eyes scanning up and down Nino like an apex predator.

“I have followed your criteria. “Best” does not mean “most experienced”. Out of everyone I saw, he showed a range of becoming qualities that made him the best suited to our needs. He not only had just as much talent as men several years his senior, he also has an impressive repertoire and was far more up to date with modern styles than the other candidates. He composes his own music too, so you’d be far less likely to grow bored with his playing. As for his age… if I may be candid, I believe it would be good for Adrien to practise with someone his own age. After examining his training with the knights, his performance always improved when partnered with a knight that was closer to his age.” Madame Sancouer explained thoroughly. Nino hoped his dark skin hid the heat that was rising to his cheeks. He had no idea he had made that much of an impression on the stoic woman. But his joy at the appraisal halted at recalling the name she had mentioned. Adrien. Where had he heard that name before?

“I hope this isn’t some poor attempt at giving my son a friend, Nathalie. He is already friends with the princess, he doesn’t need some common boy for company.” Lord Agreste groaned, rolling his eyes and finally shifting his gaze away from Nino. That’s right. When he had met Princess Chloe, she had mentioned her friend Lord Adrien and prattled on about how the two of them were perfect for each other and when they got married no peasants would be allowed to attend because she didn’t want them to ruin her big day with how filthy they were. If he had known that a requirement of his job would involve spending time with someone who was a perfect match that nightmare girl, he’d have definitely turned it down.

“It was merely a choice I made based on observations of Adrien’s performance levels. Nothing more.” Nathalie replied, expression completely schooled to show no emotion. Lord Agreste sighed before returning his attention to the map.

“Very well. Take him to his room, then introduce him to my son.” He commanded with a lazy wave. With that cue, Nino hastily followed Madame Sancouer out of the room, eager to leave the intimidating man’s presence as swiftly as possible. She led him down more corridors and across a couple of different courtyards, eventually leading him into a section of the estate that while much plainer than where he’d met the lord, was still considerably more decadent than the home he grew up in back at the village.

“This is the staff quarters, where you’ll be staying while you are employed by Lord Agreste. When you are not summoned, you may stay in your room or relax in the courtyards where you can be easily found. If you for some reason need to be anywhere else on the property make sure the nearest guard is aware of where you are going so you can be found quickly if you are called upon.” Madame Sancouer explained to him as they made their way down a hallway, before they came to a stop in front of a simple, unmarked door.

“This is your room. Put down all your possessions except for your lute, then we’ll go to the young lord’s quarters.” She instructed, standing stiffly by the door as she waited for him to finish. He quickly entered the room, placing his worn-out bags on the decent looking bed. The room looked pretty good to him. On the opposite side to the bed, he had a dresser and a desk, and the far wall had a large window that opened out to a balconette that was just large enough for a person to perch on if they wished to sit and feel a nightly breeze. He couldn’t ask for more, really.

Deciding he could inspect his room further later, he darted back out of the room, shutting the door behind him. With a brief nod, Madame Sancouer was on her way again, leaving Nino to trail behind once more. As they walked, Nino silently prayed that he would not have to spend too much time with young Lord Adrien if he was anything like Chloe. After what felt like walking to the opposite side of the property, it finally clicked that Madame Sancouer had said the young lord had his own quarters. This section of the estate was twice the size of the staff quarters, and a thousand times more extravagant.

“How can one person need this much space?” He thought out loud, immediately blanching at his lack of control. Madame Sancouer quirked an eyebrow at him, before turning her eyes back to the direction they were walking.

“The young lord is prohibited from leaving the estate, so Lord Agreste decided it would be best if he was provided anything he could want or need within his quarters, so that he may never be tempted to leave.” She answered. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. One the one hand, this guy sounded just as pampered as the princess. On the other hand, he felt a little sorry for him. A gilded prison is still a prison, after all. After a few minutes, they reached a beautifully decorated set of double doors that were lined with several locks, with a bored looking knight standing guard. When the knight noticed their approach, he jolted into a better posture and scrambled for the set of keys on his belt. Meanwhile, Madame Sancouer pulled out her own set of keys and made her way to the door. Nino watched as she unlocked half the locks, and the knight the other half in pure disbelief. What in the world did Lord Agreste think was going to happen to his son? Surely nobody would want to kidnap him that bad. Once the locks were done, the knight pulled the doors open for the pair of them, gesturing for them to enter.

As Nino walked in, his eyes blew wide open in shock at the size of the room. He’d guess it was as large as his entire house back home, and this was only the bedroom! Looking between the canopy bed, the bookshelves, the chaise lounge, and the clavichord, he wondered what all the other rooms were even for. He scanned the room looking for its inhabitant, only to realise nobody was in here.

“Adrien?” Madame Sancouer called out, only looking nervous for a second before managing to school her expression once more.

“I’m out here, Nathalie!” A bright voice chimed back from beyond the window, which he soon realised was more of a door, which lead to a large looking balcony, from what he could see. Madame Sancouer led him to the glass doors and out onto the sunny balcony.

On a stone bench pressed right against the rail of the balcony sat a poised looking young man whose golden hair caught and bounced the sunlight as though it were made from its beams. Like the senior Lord Agreste, he was also dressed exquisitely, his black jacket and pants fitting his lean form perfectly. The young man had his head turned away from them as he leaned on the rail to look at whatever view he had.

“Adrien, you have a visitor.” Madame Sancouer announced. The young man, now confirmed as Adrien, perked up as he turned to face them. Nino held back a gasp as he took in the young lord’s face. His vivid green eyes were a perfect match for the woman in the portrait, and the young man’s face was every bit as beautiful as he had previously speculated was impossible to be real, if not more. Adrien’s expression brightened with visible excitement as he looked at Nino. The bard wasn’t sure what confused him more; why this guy was so excited to see someone he’d never met before, or why his own heart was suddenly beating so fast.

Next Chapter

[princessnijireiki]

apologies if this is too personal and feel free to delete this from your inbox but i was wondering what your going to bed routine looks like/if you have any advice on how you improved your sleep schedule - i’ve been struggling with insomnia and other various sleep issues for years and am honestly casting a wide net for advice and other peoples’ experiences. i’ve heard a lot from therapists doctors etc but not from people who have experienced sleep troubles themselves. thank you again and have a good day! 🤍

Under a cut for length!

As soon as I'm ready to go to bed, I do any last minute texts or calls, and then put my phone on Do Not Disturb. Most of my apps (games and social media) also have notifications off 24/7. My phone going off constantly is really distracting & sucks me into that cycle of scrolling & refreshing for engagement, and even doing that out of boredom, I find it's not great for me. I "lose time" that way, and it isn't until you add it up that you see the stuff you could've been doing instead. And the notifications make my anxiety worse, too. So I don't see any notes, Retweets, new emails, etc until I decide I'M ready to engage with those apps.

(My exceptions are usually calls, texts, FB Messenger just because I used to buy/sell on FB Market, IG DMs because one of my sisters travels a lot & uses that more than Whatsapp when she doesn't have cell service— when I had an iPhone we'd just use iMessage, but this system works for us now that I have an Android— and school emails in case of campus closures, but NOT work emails.)

I don't eat in bed, I don't think it's hygienic, but if I need to be away from people when I eat, I just find some other room to do it in rather than take my food upstairs. I don't watch TV in bed, and I try very hard not to use my computer in bed, but if I do, it can only be with other lights on in the room (so I'm not staring at a screen in the dark), and I try to limit that to daylight hours. If it's a homework assignment due at night, it's more comfortable to type at a table or sitting on the sofa anyway, because then I can stretch out on my bed AFTERWARDS & the physical relief also reinforces that delineation of work space vs relax & sleep space.

I also just shower whenever (shared bathroom & wonky schedules means my time of day is not always consistent), but if you're more of an AM or PM bather, you can make that + lotioning, drying your hair before work or bed, etc, part of your wake-up/wind-down routine. Same with brushing your teeth. And use the bathroom before bed EVERY night, just so you know you won't wake up in 2hrs & have to pee lol.

Plus, if you use consistent products, the fragrance can be part of your routine as well. Like I find lavender to be a "wake-up" scent for me, but I have a lemon shea butter I use on my scalp right before bed, and the smell of it lingers, so that's one of my bedtime cues even though I don't like doing room sprays or heavy artificial fragrances around my bedding.

I make sure all my sleep clothes are comfortable, and I have a heating pad in bed & usually a fan nearby so I can adjust if I'm uncomfortable instead of laying there letting my mind wander because I'm slightly too hot or too cold. Water bottle in bed & antacids nearby so I don't have to get up for either of those once I'm settled down.

I've used the Flipd app to block me from fussing with my phone when I was still adjusting to my DND rule. Insight Timer app to wind down on stressful days (I hate guided meditations, but they have a singing bowls track that helps me a lot). And TMSoft's White Noise app every night. You can download all kinds of sounds with them or make a custom mix for yourself, so I have my "standard" one that I put on EVERY night as my "go to sleep soundtrack," and that helps with the routine a lot. Like once I turn on the white noise, unless some urgent family thing happens, I'm putting down the phone & not picking it up again until morning.

And you also have to figure out some of your personal sleep preferences or issues. Like I take a prescription muscle relaxant every night, sometimes it doesn't affect me at all, other nights I can feel drowsiness kicking in and I've had to accept that I shouldn't fight that even if I feel like there's more stuff I want to do. Some days my pain is bad & my RX actually lets me double up as needed, BUT then I may start falling asleep in my chair or on the sofa if it's during the day, or I may oversleep AND be restless from vivid dreams as a medication side effect if I sleep through the night. Which isn't awful if sleep is what you NEED, but it can throw you off for the next day, so you end up NEEDING to be more deliberate about sleep patterns so you can plan accordingly.

And I keep a yoga strap + a baseball in bed. The baseball is for rotater cuff exercises (though I can also use the water bottle if need be), in case my shoulder starts acting up; I can do my PT exercises in the dark at this point, including wall push-ups, and I'd rather not have to start my whole sleep process ovef just because I had to LOOK for my equipment or whatever. And the yoga strap is to stretch out my legs, because my leg & hip muscles get tight very easily, and same deal, why turn on the lights & get out of bed, get tempted to hop back on the phone, run to the kitchen for a snack, etc, if I can stretch out my quads under the blankies and then go right to sleep?

I can sleep through a lot of noise (loud dogs, loud family), but when I'm trying to FALL asleep, it's distracting, so I have noise canceling headphones & will play my white noise mix on blast if people are being super obnoxious. No guarantees that works, generally unless I'm drop-down exhausted I end up not falling asleep until noise levels calm down, but it helps keep you relaxed & READY for sleep rather than sucked into & keyed up from the agitation around you.

I hate light disturbances when I'm trying to sleep, so my phone is face down and brightness turned all the way down if I HAVE to use it in bed. I'm not a leave the phone across the room person, I use it as a flashlight if I do get up at night, use it as my alarm... it's a bad habit, but I do try to make up for it by making it as un-distracting as possible while I sleep. No night lights, one of those draft protectors under the door, and I block little LED lights on electronics with black electrical tape. I don't like eye masks, but I wear a bonnet over my hair, so I just pull the elastic band over my eyes & I tend to coccoon in my blankets anyway, so that helps. I used to have blackout curtains as well, I need to buy some more eventually, and then sunlight afterwards ends up a huge wake-up cue as a result. I ordered a sunrise alarm clock, too, and hopefully that works out as well.

And I can't emphasize enough, anxiety will mess you up bad. I REALLY stopped sleeping when COVID hit, and my sleep behaviors regressed. I went back to fighting my body's tiredness & fighting going to bed until it was physically painful to try to stay awake, like to the point where your eyes hurt & you start struggling to maintain coherent thoughts. I'm on anxiety medication now, and it takes the edge off, but it doesn't make me sleepy. But it still helps a lot because the anxiety's not so all-consuming. The rest is still a lot of hard work, and protecting health boundaries you might not WANT to follow the same as if you had a fussy toddler to take care of. And you'll still have to do a lot of mindfulness work... clearing your thoughts before bed, addressing mental burdens head-on so they aren't still weighing on you at 2AM, learning techniques to not carry stress in your body— even if it's only addressing the physicality of that, slowing your breathing, unclenching teeth, relaxing your shoulders, reducing your heart rate, you can work backwards ans attack the physical stress in order to reduce the mental & emotional baggage.

Those have been some of my biggest sleep struggles, which I know isn't "one size fits all" advice, but I hope that helps!

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 3

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Peter always unapologetically stealing all the uwus. It’s the MCU law, sorry, didn’t make it. Tony Stark can ✨rail me✨. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings​ @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves THE WORLD! I’m not kidding. Please visit her and show her some love, my homegirl is stressed 💖✨

I didn’t see Bruce nor Tony for a week. The doctor was away on some science conference (he sent me one dorky selfie next to a whiteboard full of barely intelligible equations as proof), Tony was in California, having some sort of a board meeting. How do I know? Peter, out of lack of better things to do, constantly texted me updates on his science patron’s whereabouts and what-abouts.

In times like these, it took me for a loop - I was on a first name basis with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. In the beginning, I was intimidated - I avoided them both like the plague and tinkered in the lab with headphones on whenever I could, until Tony made a comment so snarky I couldn’t resist joking back. That’s not to say Bruce was a social butterfly, but even he gave into my tomfoolery after seeing me stand calmly throughout several of Tony’s hissy fits.

What amazed me even more so was that despite Tony being literally an insufferable little brat, I still longed after him. Sure, the man was hot as hell - but his physical traits were much less significant when it came to my feelings towards him than the amount of sheer drive and willpower he possessed. He was stubborn - that’s another trait we shared - and unapologetically himself in every damn situation.

I could write poetry about the million expressions in his face, about the shine in his eyes.

But I won’t. He’s a technical guru. Ever since I started hanging around the tower, I became much more conscious about what I posted online. Not to say I had a Stark fan blog or anything, but I’d stopped scrolling through the tag, even if I didn’t actually click on any articles. I dutifully reblogged pictures of Tom Ellis instead - while he was a very fine, distinguished man, he wasn’t Tony Stark. I enjoyed looking at the first and enjoyed being around the other. And even though my feed still had the occasional “I love arm” shitpost, I focused on aesthetic pictures and quotes instead - things I had an active internet presence for.

My personal life wasn’t very interesting. I didn’t have any close friends and any and all sex I’ve had was just a bunch of one night stands, fueled by alcohol, selfish lust and the occasional joint. Despite having a fair share of kind, generous lovers, the morning after left me feeling a little bit emptier every time. I thought about getting a boyfriend or something… But quickly became totally clueless as to where I could find one. Men under twenty-five could barely hold my interest long enough to have a casual chat and I wasn’t naive enough to think there were a lot of honest, well-intentioned thirty-somethings that wanted to date my high school ass.

Peter had a crush on me, I knew that. The boy developed one or another kind of feelings for anybody who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness and it alarmed me. In any other case I would have bailed on him, gently, of course, to spare him the disappointment but my selfishness got in the way. I regretted it every day. A wave of desperation rose in me every time I thought about moving on without seeing Tony or Bruce, without Peter shyly smiling at me as he explained how the things he created worked. A faint hope that one day, his schoolboy puppy love will grow into a brotherly kind of regard was the only thing that kept me afloat in my sea of guilt.

As the Fall rolled around, so did my gloomy mood. It was hard to be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping outside, but with clouds hanging over the city like a lead curtain, the bottled up negativity rose to the surface uninvited. Mother had returned from her business trip, adding an uncomfortable, hollow sort of chill to the house wherever she stood. I don’t know what was worse - the hours we spent in one room ignoring each other or the immaculately structured questions she asked me about my studies and extra-curriculars. Mother didn’t ask me about my friends, or my feelings or any of the other things a mother was supposed to give a damn about.

I was an asset to her company and that was that. If you would have asked her, she would tell you I’m old enough for her to mind her own business - which was technically true. Yet according to her, I’ve been old enough since seventh grade. My dad answered his messages sporadically, sometimes with a two-word answer and sometimes with a cocaine and booze fueled rant eleven texts long. I felt sorry for him. I really did.

My phone was blowing up. Party invitations, likes from people I saw once or twice (“oh my god, you’re, like, so hot, what’s your Insta”), DMs from guys looking to score an easy piece of ass. I never answered. If I wanted to party, I just sort of showed up and everybody went along with it. I took care of my appearance and it showed - never once was I turned away from a party. Everyone wanted to dance, to share their drinks, to light up and get faded together and fade into the city, into the cold air and grey sky.

Skirt swaying and top clinging to my chest, I danced. The sweaty, heated bodies around me did the same. Not one of us cared, it was a Tuesday night and the place packed way too many people. An arm snaked around my waist, startling me. I had to begrudgingly crack open an eye to see the bastard in the dimly lit room.

“I saw you at the bar, you looked bored. Maybe you need something to cheer you up?”

So not a creepy rapist. Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. At house parties like these, there was always The Guy. He never danced, he sipped on the same drink all night yet always looked like he was having the time of his life. I was no stranger to the occasional joint, or even something more stimulating…

“I got the good stuff, sweetums, you’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”

Eh, what the hell. I inconspicuously danced with the guy to the middle of the crowd, exchanging a few crumpled dollar notes for a baggie of two pills. In no time, I chased one down with a hastily poured Jack.

The world did become better, as the drug dealer promised. People were nicer, friendlier and I almost didn’t believe mother was a useless, stone cold bitch. I almost didn’t care that I was deeply, madly in love with a man as unreachable as Olympus. If I squinted, the guy sitting at the bar looked kind of like Tony, tan, dark hair, worn jeans and a band tee.

So I danced. I danced and I stared right at him and then we danced some more. I closed my eyes, letting his arms grab me and pull me, I let his beard scratch my neck where he sucked a mark on me, I let his rough palms choke me against a wall in one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. It felt good to be wanted. It felt great to be needed as he rutted inside of me, hitting that sweet spot with every twitch of his hips.

It felt lonely when he left, pressing a kiss to my forehead and saying something dumb like “Be good, kid.”. I don’t remember what exactly it was, only that I had to turn my face away from his breath that reeked like weed and vodka.

To shake off the void that made home inside of my chest, I went to the roof to get some fresh air. The house had a nice patio on it - I actually knew the owner - that hosted more plants than I’d care to count. There was an ashtray and an abandoned pack of cigarettes. I greeted the faintly blooming sunrise surrounded by a cloud of smoke, shivering in the autumn mist.

Sounds of the party became less prominent with every passing minute as people geared up to go home and get a few winks of sleep before going to work. New Yorkers weren’t really thoughtful partying on a Tuesday, but then again, neither was I. The city always was busy - even then, at the crack of dawn, the dull throb of a bassline was rudely interrupted by a blaring car alarm followed by dogs barking in aggravation.

The more I sat there, the bleaker everything became. I had enough common sense to know I was just coming off the drug but for once, I had been happy and content for several hours without a care in the world. It had been too long since I felt that way and what’s a little low after a good high?

Mother left for her early conference at five AM sharp, I entered my house at five-thirty, making a beeline in the shower and immediately dumping my alcohol and cigarette soaked clothes into the wash with the smelliest detergent I could find. I gave similar treatment to my body and my hair, using the chemically-smelling products on my body and on my hair, brushing my teeth multiple times.

By the time I was leaving for school, only a faint smell lingered in the air where I’d previously entered, so I set the air freshener to automatically spray the obnoxious mist every ten minutes. Mother gets home at twelve for lunch, that should be more than enough time for any remnants of my partying to disappear into the lilac and lavender fumes.

The Valium I’d popped to deal with the aftermath of Molly made my brain sluggish. One look in the mirror and I hastily put my sunglasses on - the ashen colour of my face and the slightly crazed look wasn’t very complimentary to my complexion. The teacher didn’t give a damn. I stared blankly ahead of me for most part of first period.

“What happened to you? You look like hell!” Peter’s exclamation, while usually would’ve alarmed me, barely made a dent in my stupor.

“I feel like shit, too,” Admit what you can’t deny. Deny what you can’t admit. “I didn’t get any sleep. Like, at all.”

Peter frowned, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second. I flinched when his hand tentatively touched my forehead - the pounding in my temples slowed to a dull throbbing but it was still unpleasant when someone was all up in my space.

“Jesus, you’re as cold as a corpse. Maybe you should go see the nurse,” His worry bled into me too. Like hell I was going to the school nurse! They were specifically trained to recognize the signs of substance abuse.

“I’ll head home straight after school, I think we’ll have to skip our sciencing,” No way also I’d be letting Tony and Bruce see me like this. Oh my God, I was a mess. “Mother’s home.” I added. Even the emotional frostbite I’d get from being around her was more tolerable than being a downer for Peter and Tony.

Peter’s face immediately softened in sympathy. He knew almost everything about my relationship with my family, including him actually seeing my mother that one time. He told me she gave him the creeps and I don’t blame him at all. The stoicism that was required for her work made my mother an unbearable person to exist around outside of her fancy office on the top floor of a glass high-rise building.

“Okay, but promise to text me if it gets worse. You might have caught the autumn bug that’s been going around,” He obviously said the last part to calm himself down. Sweet little Peter, naïve child. I solemnly nodded nonetheless.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. Tony was being Tony, as usual, but in a strangely kind way. I suppose it should’ve made me feel better and it kind of did, but then it went downhill from there. I couldn’t explain why I started crying. I bawled my eyes out at how unfair this god-damned world was and when the doorbell rang… Let’s say, the delivery boy hightailed it out of there once the bag of takeout was deposited into my arms. I looked and felt ghastly.

I ate as much as I could and dropped into a restless nap, drifting in and out of sleep with exhausted exasperation. There had not been a time where I felt so low after popping a pill and I was equal parts alarmed and satisfied. For one, the drug dealer didn’t lie like they usually do - the stuff was good and I still had the other pill hidden away in a bottle of painkillers, inconspicuously mixed with other white pills but shape distinctive enough for me to recognize should I have need in taking it again.

The thought of well, taking it again, was fleeting. I had school tomorrow and a missed science bender to make up for. A few buzzes of my phone later, I felt happier. Better. Not so down anymore. I meant every word that I said - Bruce was very precious, kind and gentle. And so, warm and soft. And totally kissable.

Well, fuck. What do I do now?

[sunbeams-and-honey]

hi im new to astrology and i just wanted to know what does it mean/how it affects me and my future if i have sun, mercury, venus all in gemini 10th house, moon in aquarius 6th house, virgo rising and also pisces mars in 6th house. thank youuu.

Hi darling! Thanks for the question.

Your combination of a Gemini Sun and an Aquarius Moon makes you a very captivating person. You're someone who can definitely trust in your intuition and you also benefit from a witty foresight. You are absolutely capable of improving yourself and making positive changes for yourself. You're intellectually energetic, which means that you can go on for ages with any activity involving your mind, such as writing or solving puzzles. You have a deep need to express your individuality as much as you can, as well as being stimulated at all times. You are more or less terrified of being bored. You are so busy so much of the time that boredom seems to affect you more intensely as you're not used to staying still and relaxing. You really enjoy and benefit from finding new ways of looking at and thinking about something, and also from establishing connections between different things. It's really satisfying for you when something finally clicks in your mind.

Your Sun is in the 10th House, which means that you work hard in order to achieve your goals and to also reach a certain status. You are excited by the idea of having power, but make sure that this desire does not make you cruel. You might want to be famous at some point in your life but you want to live an honourable and dignified life while doing so. That being said, you may be prone to getting into scandals if you're not careful. You want to be in charge where possible and you aren't afraid of the responsibility that comes with it. If you were to be put into a position of leadership then you'd know exactly what you'd be getting into. You're very determined to make a name for yourself and to be a good role model to others. You're likely to have a good reputation.

You have your Moon in the 6th House, which makes you someone who is obsessed with being healthy and organised at all times. A lot of your emotional satisfaction and stability depends on how hard you work, which can be a problem if you don't work as hard as you think you should. You have to understand that you have limits and you're allowed to relax without having to work for it. You are caring and emotional, and very empathetic. You get very stressed when you can't be of any help to anyone else. You may be prone to have physical pain when going through emotional distress or pain. You tend to feel very energetic and alive when there is nothing worrying you and when everything is going your way.

Your Gemini Mercury means you have great social skills. You are charming and eloquent in your speech. You are a quick thinker decision-maker. You always have something interesting to say so people always want to talk to you. You may find that you're the one carrying the conversation a lot of the time. You have the tendency to exaggerate sometimes. People are fascinated by your intelligence and knowledge. You know a bit about everything. You're constantly thinking about more than one thing at a time and because of this, you can forget about very important things every now and then, such as birthdays or anniversaries.

Your Mercury is in the 10th House, which makes you very good at solving problems under pressure. You're not one to back down from a challenge just because everyone else does. In your personal life, there will be a huge emphasis on self-improvement and general achievements. You highly value your goals in life and you are a natural communicator and public speaker. Even if you're shy, you have a great way with words, which leave a huge and lasting impact on those around you. You're very articulate. Your career is very important to you. You don't see it as merely a job, it's something with which you put effort into and care about.

You have your Venus in Gemini, which means you are very talkative and witty, especially when with your friends. You are very skilled with your words. You may love deep and complex subjects such as philosophy and once you find someone who shares this appreciation, then there will be no one stopping you from discussing it at all hours of the day and night. You are skilled with mediating conflicts and settling arguments before they become too big and destructive, and this is largely down to your persuasive skills. You need someone who appreciates and, to an extent, shares your intelligence and thirst for knowledge. You are very transformative, most likely going through many important changes throughout your life.

Your 10th House Venus makes you someone who wants to make a valuable contribution to the world. You want to change things for the better and will do everything in your power to make that happen. You want to make the world a brighter place too, spreading love and positivity wherever you go. You'll probably make a good career out of one of your hobbies. You might be the type of person to have an Etsy shop. You like being the centre of attention because you want to be appreciated for the things you have done. Some people can see you as pretentious because you want the nicer things in life and because you surround yourself with influential people. They don't realise though that you do this to keep as many doors open as possible when it comes to opportunities.

All of this means you have a Gemini stellium, which means you really embody Gemini qualities, more so than your average Gemini Sun. You are quick to both crack a joke and to put the pieces together and solve a problem. You are probably the life of the party. You have a great ability to relate to anyone, which is something that really helps other people. You may find that others often turn to you for comfort and support because they feel seen and heard by you. People can struggle to keep up with you at times albeit entertained by the stories you have to tell. You always have something interesting to say.

This also means you have a 10th House stellium, which makes you someone who loves their independence. You're not one to typically listen to authority figures unless you absolutely must. You might benefit from working for yourself one day rather than for somebody else. You are ambitious and not one to mess around once you get down to something. You may have had some kind of issues with a parent, or someone you viewed as a parental figure, at some point in your life. You know the best path to success, and are hellbent on staying on that path.

I've already gone over what it's like to have a Virgo Rising! You can find the post here.

Your Mars is in Pisces means that you are the kind of person to fight for your dreams. You are a walking contradiction, both sensitive and powerful, though perhaps it is your sensitivity itself that makes you powerful. You prefer to go with the flow rather than planning for the future or being in control. You want and expect things in your life to just happen naturally. Even if you are a hardworking person, you don't expect all your hard work to just go to waste. You want to get something from it. This can make you confident enough to go after your goals and dreams, but it can also lead you to getting easily disappointed.

You have your Mars in the 6th House, which makes you someone who is prepared to work incredibly hard for your dreams and goals. You love helping other people, but you have to watch out for people who use this kindness of yours and exploit it. Remember you can say no. You are productive, efficient, and almost always ready to work. You rarely ever seem to get tired so you do run the risk of burning out because you work so hard. You have the tendency to become impatient and irritable when other people do things in a different way to you. You have an amazing capacity to pick yourself up after failure or mistakes.

Words Of Advice:

Learn to relax more, maybe even meditate!

You need to learn how to balance your work life and your personal life.

Try to depend less on validation from others.

Maybe choose an area to specialise in rather than knowing a bit about everything and not properly committing to something.

Be more open to new experiences.

You don't need to take on every single challenge thrown at you.

Try changing your ways of doing things every now and then.

Remember to slow down every now and then.

You don't have to be working 24/7.

Pay more attention to your friendships.

Be mindful of who you spill your secrets to.

Try to keep your expectations realistic.

Thanks for the question darling and I hope this helped! Sending good vibes your way and have a wonderful rest of your day!

[witcherslittledove]

Life's a Bitch

For @jaskiersbow as part of @thewitcherbog RPF exchange! - AO3

Ship: Joey/Henry (with a side of Joey/Kal)

A lockdown fic.... but with more dog fucking.

CW: RPF, Bestiality, Dead Dove: do not eat, masturbation, Joey has a small cock, multiple orgasms, knotting, accidental voyeurism

_

Lockdown was a bitch.

It wasn’t like Joey was a particularly sociable person, but the one thing really did enjoy was sex. He was no stranger to one night stands, getting far too drunk at the club and falling into bed with whoever took his fancy. Having sex with strangers was easy, especially when he was too drunk to care what they might think about him, about his dick. It wasn’t exactly average, and he’d been laughed at one too many times by people he cared about, so now he had a habit of pushing people away before he could get hurt.

Henry was no exception.

Sweet, kind, loving Henry, who had offered Joey a place to stay when the electrical mains had blown in the flat he shared with Madeleine. Gorgeous, filmstar, sexiest man alive Henry, who just happened to be Joey’s biggest crush.

So, despite the fact he was desperately horny, Joey kept his co-star at a distance. Preferring, instead, to cuddle up to Kal or spend hours locked away in his room composing, or trying to compose at the very least. He really didn’t want to admit how many hours he actually spent reading porn with his fingers up his arse. Honestly, the amount of lube he’d gotten through the last few weeks was just embarrassing.

There were moments when he thought that maybe, just maybe, Henry fancied him back. The soft smiles when they danced around each other in the kitchen in the mornings, the lingering glances across the room when they were watching Netflix in the evenings, or even the rather romantic walks with Kal at dawn.

But he couldn’t risk it, not when he had to spend the next seven odd years working with Henry. If they were lucky anyway, god, he hoped it would be that long. Lauren wouldn’t kill off Jaskier, would she?

Nah…

He was fine. Dandelion was integral to Geralt’s development in the series. Joey just had to have faith that Lauren saw that too.

Of course, there was a niggly feeling at the back of Joey’s head, an anxiety that said this stupid bloody pandemic would never end and he’d never get to perform again. He kept wondering whether he should just give up, get another job; something stable.

He sighed, running both hands through his hair as he collapsed back onto the bed, his guitar abandoned on the floor. Lockdown wasn’t the most inspiring of events, but he had to be productive. It was the only way he was getting through his boredom, that and far too much gin and wine. He smiled at that, Henry had been terrible for encouraging his love of gin and tonic, the pair of them spending most evenings lost at the bottom of the bottle.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t keeping Henry at as much of a distance as he should have been, but a broken heart would definitely fix his lack of inspiration. There was no better cure for writer’s block than a broken heart. Any artist could tell you that.

Until then Joey supposed he would just continue to be unbearably horny and get through too much lube.

He had nothing better to do.

Groaning, he leaned over to grab the bottle he kept in the drawer, and then hastily unzipped his jeans. It didn’t take long for his cock to get hard, teasing strokes along his length as he fell into the memory of Henry working out that morning, biceps bulging in the dark blue tank top, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the sun. Thick curls fell in front of Henry’s eyes, sticking to his forehead, and he winked -sort of- as he noticed Joey watching from the doorway. Joey wanted to lick every inch of Henry’s skin, lavishing him in kisses and hickies until there was no denying who he belonged to, then he wanted Henry to ruin him; fuck him against whatever surface they could find, strong arms lifting him up against the wall. Joey could ride him until his legs started to shake, Henry thrusting up into him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

God, he wanted it all.

Henry’s lips around his cock, never judging him or complaining, but loving him, loving his cock.

Sparks flew in front of Joey’s vision and he cried out as he came, spilling into his hand. The pleasure crashed over him, leaving him boneless as he fell back onto the bed with a blissful sigh, happy to bask in the haze of his orgasm and forgetting that it was all just a fantasy.

Until the door burst open and Joey was suddenly bombarded with a faceful of fur as Kal bounded into the room. It was mortifying. Joey was still covered in cum and lube, and now he had to try and force Henry’s giant hound onto the floor, but if Kal didn’t want to do something it was incredibly difficult to get him to behave. He was just so fucking heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough now, boy,” Joey mumbled, his face burning hot and he wondered if he could just die there, never having to show his face again.

Kal’s fur was already sticky with the mess of lube and cum, and Joey really didn’t want to have to explain that to Henry.

It was fine. He could pull Kal into the bathroom, nothing a flannel wouldn’t clean off. Henry never needed to know…

“Oh fuck, shit, Kal. No!” Joey stammered as the dog started to lick at his hand, dangerously close to his cock. “No, no, no. No!”

Kal ignored him, continuing to lick up the mess on Joey’s hand, before nuzzling against his cock, and holy shit, it had been so long since someone else had touched him. Despite the fact he’d just cum, Joey felt a whole new wave of arousal flood his body and his cock twitched pathetically, trying to get hard.

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, knowing he should be disgusted but he was just so fucking horny that he was struggling to keep a good grasp on reality.

And Kal really didn’t care that Joey’s cock was small even when hard.

Joey whined and closed his eyes, letting the dog lap messily at his dick. He was already so sensitive from his first orgasm but it felt so fucking good, and as long as he was already there and trapped by Kal, he might as well enjoy it. Every lap of Kal’s tongue sent fireworks through him, and Joey couldn’t help the needy whimpers that escaped his lips, his own hands running up inside his shirt to play with his nipples. It didn’t take long until he was hard again, panting and on the edge of a second orgasm.

“Joey?”

“Oh fucking cock!” Joey cursed and tried, to no avail, to push Kal off him

The door.

Kal had rushed into the room leaving the door wide open behind him.

“I- it’s… shit!” Joey stammered, trying to find an excuse that just didn’t exist.

He was caught. Life as he knew it was over. Henry would turn him into the police and he would never work again, all because he’d been too horny to stop Kal from licking his cock. It wasn’t as if he’d meant to do it. There was no pre-meditation and he hadn’t sought out the dog… but he’d enjoyed it?

“Kal, come here,” Henry’s voice was firm, and unfairly hot given the situation.

Despite his now flagging erection, Joey still wanted to climb the man like a tree. He was weak. He was desperate. He probably needed therapy.

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Joey,” Henry mumbled, sounding… ashamed?

Joey frowned, covering himself with a pillow as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry? You just… Kal… Me?”

“I didn’t know he’d- I should have told you to lock the door.”

Henry was blushing, and he really did look apologetic, like he was the fucked up one in this situation. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He should be angry, yelling, phoning the police, not apologising.

“Henry? What exactly are you apologising for?” Joey asked cautiously, chewing at his bottom lip. There was a flutter of hope in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he was the only one.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Darling, you just caught me getting my cock licked by your dog. I think we’re beyond boundaries now. I- You should hate me?”

“You should hate me. It’s my fault. I- I trained him to- to-”

Joey felt his eyes widening as he processed Henry’s words. Not only was he not disgusted at what he’d witnessed… he’d practically been the reason for it.

“Holy shit.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Holy shit!” Joey whined, scrambling off the bed to get closer to his crush who had just somehow got impossibly hotter.

“Joey, please.”

“I liked it.”

“What?”

“Kal, I- I liked it, and- umm, well… I like you too,” Joey admitted with a bashful smile, “and you did interrupt so… you could always join in?”

Henry’s face flew through a million different expressions until he seemed to finally understand what Joey was saying. A dangerous smile fell into place and they crashed together in a heated kiss, hands tearing at each other’s clothes, their shared shame fueling the passion until it was scorching every cell in their bodies. Teeth clashed, noses bumped, breaths intermingled, the taste of coffee dancing on Joey’s tongue.

And when Henry’s hand wrapped around Joey cock, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He waited for the comments to come, a raised eyebrow or something, anything… but Henry didn’t seem to care that his hand dwarfed Joey’s cock considerably. All his fears had been for nought. He whined and just kissed Henry with even more fervour.

“Fuck, Henry,” he moaned as Henry’s fingers stroked the length of his cock.

The bastard just chuckled, pulling back to press their foreheads together. “Ever taken a knot?”

“W-what? No?”

“Do you want to?” Henry asked, his fingers moving to tease Joey’s rim, the sensation making Joey keen.

“I- fuck, yes. Jesus Christ! You’re trying to kill me....”

“Get on the bed,” Henry instructed, then whistled at the dog who had been sitting rather patiently by the doorway.

Joey did as he was told, pulling off the last of his clothes before crawling back onto the bed, eagerly awaiting whatever new delights that Henry had in store. Smirking, he watched as Henry stripped down, looking like a fucking god, and Christ, the size of his cock… Joey might never walk again.

But that wasn’t what really caught his attention. No, Henry had Kal by the scruff of his neck and was pulling him up onto the bed to join them. It didn’t take Kal long to understand what his owner was asking of him, and he happily let Henry guide him, his own long pink cock unsheathed.

“Fuck,” Joey breathed as he stared, transfixed as everything he knew about himself was suddenly turned upside down.

He wanted this… badly. He hadn’t just enjoyed the mindless lapping at his cock because he was horny. Fuck, no, it was more than that. He wanted it. The thought of Kal fucking him made his cock ache and he was sure he’d never been quite so aroused in all his life.

“Good?” Henry asked, tilting his head.

“Uh huh. Yup, very…”

“Good,” Henry murmured before capturing Joey’s lips in another kiss.

There was a click of the lube bottle, and he hissed as Henry’s finger pushed inside him. “More,” he whined, “I can take more. I- already…”

Henry growled, and in the next thrust, he was two fingers deep inside Joey, his lips moving to attack Joey’s neck. Teeth grazed against Joey’s skin, fire burning in his lungs as he tried to catch his breath, another hand wrapped around his cock.

“I- I, fuck!”

“God, you’re perfect.” Henry’s words caught in Joey’s neck, his collarbone, his chest. “You fit so beautifully in my hand.”

Joey keened as Henry’s thumb ran along the head of his cock, the words tingling over his skin. “Please, Henry.”

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

Another finger slid inside him, the stretch a delicious burn that soon gave way to pleasure as Henry attentively opened him up, murmuring praise with every thrust of his fingers. His deep rich voice the bassline to the melody of Joey’s gasps and moans that filled the room.

“There you go, good boy, come on Kal. He’s ready for you,” Henry finally said.

“Oh, oh cock!” Joey panted, biting against his own hand to try and stop himself from cumming.

They were doing this.

Fucking mother of god, they were really doing this.

Henry’s strong arms scooped him off the bed, flipping him with ease and guiding him onto all fours. He whined, fingers gripping at the already filthy sheets, head dropped forward so he could see his own cock red and leaking onto the bed. Kal’s nose was cold against his skin, but Henry didn’t let him sniff for too long.

“Up boy, come on,” Henry coaxed.

The weight of the dog almost had Joey collapsing back down onto the bed. Pain seared down his spine as the claws dug into his skin, but fuck he wanted more. He needed more, everything that he could get. Joey could do little more than close his eyes and hold on as Kal rutted against him, frantic and desperate until finally, oh god, finally, his cock pushed inside.

It felt strange, different to any other cock Joey had taken before, reminding Joey of just how filthy this was, forbidden, disgusting and yet so fucking good. Kal fucked like a man possessed, desperate, ruthless, uncaring, and Joey felt tears prick in his eyes. He needed to cum, already so exhausted and oversensitive, but yet he felt like he might explode if he didn’t cum again. He vaguely heard his own voice babbling, pleading, begging, Henry's voice a constant low growl in his ear, stroking and pulling at his hair.

He felt so full, and it was only getting worse with every thrust until he finally felt the pressure of Kal’s knot teasing at his hole.

Fuck.

Henry hadn’t been kidding.

He whined, hand desperately reaching out until felt Henry’s fingers lace with his own.

“So fucking, full,” he gasped.

“You’re doing so well, Joey, almost there.”

“Fuck!” he cried as the knot finally pushed inside him, the dog cumming harder and longer than any human. With just a single touch to his cock, Joey’s own orgasm burst through him, spilling over Henry’s hand as he struggled to stay upright, the energy draining from him.

“That’s it, well done,” Henry murmured and Joey wasn’t sure if he was talking to Joey or to Kal.

Kal continued to rut against him, working the cum deeper and deeper, leaving Joey to whimper pitifully as he hung off the dog’s knot, unable to move. By the time the knot finally released him, Joey was a mess, whining against Henry’s chest, covered in cum; Kal’s, his own, Henry’s. He felt thoroughly used and fucked out, dozing quite contently in Henry’s arms.

So maybe lockdown wasn’t quite so bad after all.

[circuscarnage]

Picture Perfect.

Hello! I saw a picture of Rooks room and get inspired to write a yandere fanfic. Sorry if he seems out of character, I haven't written for him since the game released. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a yandere fic for a while so I hope you enjoy. 

TW: Stalking. A lot of stalking.

Words: 2755.

Potions wasn't exactly a subject that you excelled at. It wasn't that you were bad at it... you just had trouble getting your head around the instructions. It's not everyday you are flung through a magical portal and expected to partake in activities meant for trained wizards who have been here for more than five seconds. So a little struggling here and there was to be expected. But to completely mess up and almost set half the school on fire? That was a new record of stupidity, even for you. 

Divus was not impressed. The way he lightly tapped his cane over his crossed arms was enough of an indication. He was just about to teach this stray puppy some discipline. But thankfully for you, someone came to your hour of need. And that someone came in the form of the boisterous Rook Hunt. Sweet talking his way into your conversation seamlessly and rescuing this poor soul from punishment.

"Monsieur Crewel," He started. "You must forgive our petite colombe, they are not accustomed to this world, and still have much to learn." He placed his hands gently on your shoulders, firmly keeping you in place. "May I suggest some personally tutoring? After all, who better the guide this innocent creature through the hurdles of life than yours truly?"

So it was settled. Instead of being placed with a heavy detention, Rook would be you personal tutor. Helping recover your grades and ensuring that you never repeat your little mistake ever again. You both agreed to meet in the Pomefiore dormitory, where he would escort you to his room in order to study. 

As expected from Pomefiore, their rooms were nothing short of elegant. The room was quite grand. Cream coloured walls lined with gold coating the exterior, giving the room a very regal vibe. They had the same satin sheets that matches perfectly with their uniform. And the bed canopy above only added an extra layer of elegance. The stained glass window embedded in the wall illuminated a section of the room with rainbow light. He even had his hunting equipment decorated on the wall. His trusty hunting bows seeming as casual as a family picture. It looked extremely glamorous, and extremely expensive. 

You kept your books clutched to your chest as he invited you further into the room. "Thank you again, Rook. Without your help, there's no doubt Crewel would make me do one of his impossible tasks." You turned to face him. "How were you able to persuade him so easily?" 

Rook smiled, closing the door behind him. "We share an eye for the divine. Fashion and beauty come second nature to us. I am also one of his top students. He places his trust in me to guide his little 'puppies' in the right direction." Rook laughed, finding it endearing that Divus saw himself as a trainer, rather than a teacher. He walked himself over to his desk, pulling out the chair, and gestured you to sit down. You placed your belongings on the table and sat down, thanking him. 

Before you started, Rook removed his hat, and went to place it on the stand. "Let's start with the basics, shall we? Firstly-" Rook suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He stared off into the distance, thinking for a moment. His hat still sitting firmly in his hand, before he finally placed it down. He checked his pockets, patting them down gently at first, but then becoming a tad more frantic. He patted down his jacket as well, as if he was missing something. He breathed out a smile. "Ah... sacre bleu..." 

"Is everything okay?" You queried, quirking your brow at him. It was unlike Rook to be disorganised. He always knew where everything was, so seeing him in a state of surprise was a first. Rook met your gaze again, giving you an apologetic smile before speaking. "You must forgive me, petite colombe. It seems I may have left something important in Monsieur Crewel's classroom. I hate to leave at such short notice, but I must retrieve this item of mine."

"It's alright." You reassured him. There was plenty of times where you had left something behind, it was perfectly understandable. "Take your time. I can go over some notes by myself if you want?" Rook clapped his hands together happily. Expressing his delight to your sedulous mind. "Tres bein! Such a diligent student. So eager to learn, yet has trouble expressing so. Like a flower yet to bloom yo-"

"Rook. Go." You ushered him out of the room with a smile. If you hadn't stepped in, he would have continued his rant on beauty for the rest of the day.

As Rook left the room to retrieve said item, you opened your book to a random page and started to reread over your notes. At least this way, you wouldn't bore yourself to death waiting for him to come back. Might as well do something productive. Before long, your eyes started to get tired. Without Rook being here to help you, it felt strange being in his room, like you weren't supposed to be there. Some time had already passed yet he hadn't returned. You sighed, leaning back in the chair. Whatever he misplaced must have been important. Not wanting the boredom to consume you whole, you searched the room for something to do.

Without a doubt, the hat on the stand had caught your attention. You stared at it, resisting the temptation to try it on. Just as you reached out your hand, you quickly retreated it back. Another time, you thought. Today was a day of no distractions. You were going to do work, and Rook was going to help... whenever he came back. Given the unpredictability of Rook, who knows how long he would take. He had left his phone in his room, so there was no way to contact him. Sitting back down in the chair, you let out a heavy sigh.

That's when you saw it. Hidden away in the very corner of the room. Something that was slightly off.  A stray corner of wallpaper was peeling off the side of the wall. It was only a small section, easily overlooked by anyone who passed by. But for someone who was obviously looking for something, it wasn't hard to miss. Rook didn't seem like the type of person to allow his room to fall into a state of disarray. Suffice to say, it caught you off guard. 

Something about how that one corner was different was completely throwing off your concentration. There was no way you would be able to focus with something that distracting in the back of your mind. It was decided, in order to gain a better working environment, something needed to be done.

You stood up from your seat and made your way over to the bed, removing your shoes before carefully stepping on top of the satin sheets. They sank under your weight, making you briefly loose your footing, but you manged to make it to the wall without falling over. The Pomefiore dorm really went all out with the bedding. Soft and smooth to the touch, yet emitting a sort of poisonous aura. It dragged you in, insisting for you to lie down. As if someone could lie in peaceful slumber, forever in a death like state.

You shook those thoughts from your head. Now was not the time to think about that, there was a wall in desperate need of fixing! Standing up on your tip toes, your hand glided up the wall to secure the loose wallpaper. Just before you sealed up the wall, something else caught your attention. There was something behind the plaster. A corner of a white scrap of paper was peaking out from behind it. Why the heck was there something behind the wall? Was it something that he didn't want others to see?

You looked towards the door, seeing that Rook hadn't come back yet. What was taking him so long? His lengthened disappearance might as well be a blessing at this point, considering the blatant curiosity that festered inside you was starting to eat away at your moral compass. It is awfully rude to look at someones personal things without asking, but it was basically staring you right in the face, begging to be looked at. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to take a small peek, would it? No longer being able to subside the pestering need to be nosy, you peeled back a little more of the plaster, surprised at how easy it came off. 

There was no denying the cold feeling that started to creep it's way up your spine. Slow and sultry, like someone trailing their fingers up your back. What you had expected to be a simple joke to be laughed it, turned out to be much darker then you could have ever dreamed. You couldn't believe what you were looking at, blinding rapidly, praying that it was just a trick of the eye. But every time you opened your eyes, there it was, staring back at you. That's when you noticed that there wasn't only one. Another corner peeked out. 

In a marvellous flourish of motion, you quickly tore the wall paper off, revealing an entire collage of horror behind a thin wall of plaster. There was more of them. Completely covering the back wall. But these weren't pieces of paper. These were pictures. 

Pictures of you.

How Rook was able to capture them without you knowing baffled you. He had taken shots from all angles, close up and distant, capturing every moment perfectly. You studied the pictures closer, being able to remember the exact date of when they were taken. One was from the day you were having lunch outside with your friends, smiling and laughing in ignorant bliss, unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond your line of sight. Another was from one of your walks, going around Night Raven campus without a second thought. Enjoying the peaceful scenery away from the usual chaos. Oh my god. He even managed to snap a shot of you while you were asleep.

Your hands instinctively slammed on the wall as you felt your body lurch forward, suddenly feeling very disorientated, and extremely unsafe. Rook could be somewhat of a stalker at times, but this was just too far. The little games he would play with the other students were nothing more than playful motions, they never borderline on obsession. So why. Why this? Why now? And most importantly, why you?

"Beautiful, is it not?"

Hearing those words broke you from your bystander state and placed you back within the clutches of the predator. You completely froze. Standing still on his bed, not even being able to look him in the eyes. You knew that you were in the wrong by snooping through his things. But if you knew what was in store, you wouldn't have done it. Discomfort radiated off you rapidly, filling the room with unimaginable dread. Neither of you said anything for a moment. But when Rook spoke, it shot through you like an arrow.

"My collection." His voice had gotten louder. He was much closer than before. On the side of the bed just behind you. You didn't even know he moved. "I've travelled my entire life and seen beauty in all it's shapes and forms. The Savanaclaw students are beast-men, their animalistic instincts interest me greatly. The students at this academy are all so distinct with their unique magic. But you." The way he spoke, letting you linger on every word he said, unsettled you greatly. "You had your own beauty in being simple. Standing out because you blend in with the background. A simple buttercup in a world of exotic flowers. It's a wonder how you managed to catch my eye, more so than that of Roi de Poison." He placed his gloved finger to his chin, taking a moment to think about his next words. "You have a certain... Je ne sais pas... Vulnerability. Something that a hunter like myself can't resist..."

As he said that, he reached out his hand, gently twisting it around your wrist. You shuddered at his touch, not wanting to be here anymore. Whatever was going on, you wanted no part in it. You wish you never saw this. Wanting nothing more than to rewind time and remain oblivious to his obsessive actions. That would be better. Going about life without knowing of the danger that was always three steps behind. 

Plucking up the little courage you had, cautiously you turned to face him. You expected to see him looking at you with a sour expression. But he didn't. He didn't look angry. Why didn't he look angry? You just exposed him for stalking. Someone in their right mind should have at least changed their expression, or do something. But Rook didn't. He just continued to smile at you as he always did. As if nothing was wrong. You looked back to the pictures, and then to him. His timing was too perfect. Leaving suddenly and then catching you in the act. Leaving you bored and in need to do something. He didn't plan this... Did he?

"Did..." It was hard trying to conceal the fear in your voice. Still uneven and shaking from the realisation. "...Did you want me to find this?" Your voice was only just above a whisper, yet Rook heard it clear as day. His keen eyes picking up the slightest of sounds. He clapped his hands together happily. "Tres Bien! As expected of my petite colombe, you were able to find the clues and uncover the mystery. Your beauty surely knows no bounds. All good hunters know how to cover their tracks and remain undetected. I wouldn't let something like a stray piece of paper cause my undoing." His eyes flickered to wall, scanning over the pictures once again. It was clear that he was proud to own such a collection, but his gaze never stayed focused on them for long. Too soon his eyes would return to grace upon your features, taking them in intensely. "Even though I was able to capture your beauty within these images, it can never compare to the real thing. A replication of a painting is worthless compared to the original. That's why I had to have you."

Gently he began to pull you towards him. You tried to fight back. Squirming under his touch, hoping to be let free. But no matter how much you wriggled, how much you battered your fist against his arm, or how much you protested, he was easily able to seal you in his arms. He didn't even flinch. Being able to pull you in with one wave of his hand, like it was nothing. He only chuckled in response. There was no where for you to run, you both knew that. You had accidentally cornered yourself standing on his bed. You considered making a break for it. But then you remembered how fast Rook could be. It was sometimes scary watching him in PE, being able to easily sprint past Savanaclaw members without breaking a sweat. There was no way you would be able to outrun him. Not like you could run anyway, being clutched to his chest. Smothered in unrequited love.

All thoughts of escape fled your mind as his grip tightened. Digging his gloved fingers into your skin without breaking his smile. He was enjoying this. Having you be at his mercy. It was like being a rabbit surrounded by traps. One wrong move and something would end up broken. With a delighted expression, he tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Half-lidded emerald eyes that sparked with delusional longing. "I want to capture that look of your face forever. Belated innocence... Such a pretty face would be wasted on those who can't appreciate it's beauty. My heart pulsated with admiration. You've completely captured my heart. My mind, body, and soul sing for your embrace. Every action I have taken has been in your name. And every action I shall take will be laced with your image. Won't you be my personal muse?"

[themoonlitsojourner]

Chapter 7: Uncertainty and Exploration

Through starry nights and music lessons, Wanda and Vision rediscover themselves. And begin to discover each other.

Despite the early hour and the fog clouding her brain since she found herself alone in this world, Wanda knows immediately who waits outside her room. Taking a deep breath, she prays for the energy to face this day. She opens the door.

“Good morning.” Her attempt at a smile barely counts, but at least it’s friendly. Anything to soothe her visitor’s nervousness.

“Would you care for a morning beverage?” Vision asks at the exact same moment, his words colliding with hers. He winces, and she’s sure he would blush if he could. “P-pardon me. Good morning.”

Focusing on the mugs in his hands, Vision starts again. “It is customary to consume a heated, caffeinated beverage in the morning. This seems like a practice that would appeal to you, so I have secured two options. I- I am not aware of your preference.” His blue eyes flick to hers. They are skittish, like the eyes of a deer. “Would you prefer green tea or filtered coffee? Or a different product, perhaps?”

“No, no, the coffee is fine.” She wraps her fingers around the warm ceramic and Vision shifts his hand away as soon as she has a secure grip. He is so careful to keep his fingers from brushing against hers. So careful to avoid making contact.

If it were anyone else, Wanda would think it was because of her, a fear of the storm of red that boils just below the surface of her hands. But she has seen inside his head. He is not afraid of her. He is the only one in this building who isn’t.

No, Vision is avoiding human touch, just as he does in the hallways, entering them only when there are fewer people who might brush against him. And the entire time, he keeps his shoulders curled forward, as if to make himself as small as possible.

Why does he avoid even the chance of contact? Why does he fear it so?

Wanda focuses on the mug in her hands, soaking in the heat and the familiar comfort it provides. Steam rises to her nose, but it does not carry the rich, dark scent of fresh coffee. Instead, a burnt and bitter odor greets her. Feeling Vision’s gaze on her, she dares to take a cautious sip.

If Vision made this himself, she knows the first thing they’ll work on.

Wanda’s wrinkled nose must give away her disgust. Vision rushes to assure her, “I have also procured cream and sugar for you to add, if you so wish.” He ducks into the library down the hall, returning with a wooden serving tray.

Wanda pours most of the cream from the little pitcher into her mug, stirring it with the teaspoon he holds out. “Did you get all this yourself?” Her second sip, at least, doesn’t make her cringe. She might have outgrown watered-down coffee years ago, but the cream makes this drink halfway palatable. And if nothing else, the cup will keep her hands warm.

“I retrieved the tray and its implements from the breakfast bar in the dining hall. The teaspoon I selected from the kitchen drawer. The spoons that had been set out for beverage use were not of the proper sort,” Vision explains, expression solemn. “A pot of coffee had already been brewed, but perhaps I should have prepared a new one…” He falls silent, brow furrowed as he watches her sip from the mug.

“It is good,” Wanda lies, and Vision’s shoulders drop in relief. He nods and turns to set the tray down. His golden cape, reaching almost to the floor, ripples around his boots with every step. Wanda follows its lines up his shoulders, frowning at the metal collar joining it to the tight fabric of his suit. None of it looks very comfortable, especially for more than a couple hours.

She looks down into her coffee, idly stirring the pale liquid in slow circles. “You still want my help, yes?” Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Vision turn around slowly.

“Yes.” The river of his thoughts speeds up, tumbling and rushing like rapids over rocks. Anxious. About what, exactly?

Wanda realizes her intrusion and pulls back from his mind, refocusing. “Okay. So...” She takes a deep breath. “Um... the outfit. It is fine for fighting and such, but otherwise you might want something more… relaxed?”

Brow furrowing again, Vision peers down at his clothing. “I must always stand ready to defend.” The phrase is flat. Automatic. Scripted, maybe? His eyes meet hers as he speaks his next words urgently, striving to convince her. Or himself. “It is my purpose and honor to defend and serve.”

Did Stark decide that for him? Is it something S.H.I.E.L.D. told him?

Wanda nods slowly. “It is admirable of you to think that. But there is more than one purpose in life. And things change. Always.” Suddenly, she cannot watch him any longer. Staring down into her coffee, she wills her blurred sight to clear. She has cried enough. “And when they do, there is no other option but to adapt.”

Vision watches her solemnly, eyes soft with sympathy.

Wanda takes a deep breath and forces herself to try another smile. “So. Daily clothing.” The mundane topic is awkward and alien on her tongue. There wasn’t much talk in the last few years about anything other than matters of life, death, and survival. The normal and the everyday belong in her memories. In another lifetime.

Nodding thoughtfully, Vision stares past the wall, irises swirling from one direction to the next.

Is he considering his options? Searching the internet, maybe?

“What would you suggest?” he asks.

Wanda purses her lips. Where in the tower could they find extra clothes… There is nothing she can remember seeing during her brief tour, but she remembers little of that first day. We could ask the Captain. She clenches her sweatshirt sleeves in her fists at the thought of venturing into the floors below.

Then suddenly her musings are swept away. Wanda blinks, brain scrambling to comprehend what she sees as Vision’s clothing seems to ripple and shift, both in style and color. Soon, a loose, plain cotton T-shirt and dark jeans drape his tall form. Not a trace of the suit or cape remains.

Her mouth falls open in astonishment. “How did you do that?”

“I am equipped with a thin layer of nanobots, easily controlled through a mental-cellular interface. I assume their purpose is the formation of clothing.” He holds his arms out to the side. “Do you think this attire will suffice?”

Wanda frowns. Vision’s old-fashioned, formal speech looks jarring alongside the modern style, and his perfect posture disrupts the loose fit. If anything, he stands even stiffer than when he wore the battle suit.

She tilts her head. “Is it… comfortable for you?”

“It is casual, is it not?”

“But are you comfortable? Do you like it?”

The corner of his mouth curves down. “Not… strictly speaking.”

Wanda nods. “Try something else, then. You will want it to fit you.”

Vision’s irises begin twirling, starting with the opposite direction this time. When he does that, what exactly goes on behind those blue eyes? She’s sorely tempted to look.

A moment later, his clothing shifts again.

Wanda examines the dark gray vest and tie over a long-sleeved white shirt with neatly buttoned cuffs. Pressed charcoal slacks and black dress shoes complete the simple, yet elegant outfit.

Vision looks to her, waiting

Wanda bites her lip. Maybe he should loosen the tie. Then again, he is obviously more comfortable dressed formally. His body language alone speaks loudly to that. She nods once. “This is good.”

“Good,” Vision repeats. She wonders if he’s aware that he mimics her nod and tone almost exactly. “Excellent.”

----------

During those first weeks after Pietro’s death, the intensity of the searing, screaming pain had not surprised Wanda. Neither had the crushing cloud of grief, or the red haze of anger that fogged her mind and numbed her senses during those dark nights she spent alone, hiding in the Bartons’ spare room.

Wanda has been through it all before. She knows loss well.

But now the grip of those feelings has started to fade, and what does surprise her is the boredom. The restless, irritable energy, the listless lack of focus. Every day is just the day before, completely identical in every way. Get up, train, meals, train, sleep.

There is no purpose. No drive. No one to hunt down and make pay for her brother’s death. No revenge to lie awake and plan.

She already ripped out the killer’s heart, but it was too late to save her own.

Not even the intense combat training, progressing as rapidly as she can handle, holds her attention. No matter how hard she throws herself into it, how carefully she blocks out everything but the red in her hands, she cannot lose herself in the movements. All the fighting does is bring the memories of her last battle rushing to the surface. Pietro’s last battle. And when each session finishes, it leaves her fighting to hide her pounding heart and the shaking that spreads from her hands.

There is no forgetting for her. No distraction.

Fortunately, Vision seems to have found some direction, or at least something to fill his time with. He must have read every book in the library on their floor once, if not twice, and frequently he phases through the floor with an armful pilfered from elsewhere in the building. Made-up stories, real stories, textbooks, manuals, encyclopedias, he reads them all. His desire to learn is insatiable.

If only Wanda could muster even half that enthusiasm for something. Anything.

Today, the late afternoon sun seeps through the library’s full-length window, illuminating the book in Vision’s lap. Wanda flips through the channels on the TV in the corner, jaw clenched in frustration.

It is Monday, the fifth (or maybe sixth) afternoon in a row they’ve spent in this room, and by far the quietest. They train every morning and evening except for Sunday, but the hours between are their “free time.” It’s a good thing the time is “free” because she has done nothing but waste it.

Wanda drums her fingers petulantly on the arm of her chair, restlessness coiling in her chest. She jabs the remote buttons again.

There is nothing on TV. Even worse, there is nothing to do, and she needs to do something. With a growl, Wanda hits the power button and tosses the remote to the table.

“Did you know mantis shrimp are equipped with sixteen different kinds of cones?” Vision suddenly says.

Wanda turns to look at him.

“That’s thirteen more than humans possess,” he remarks thoughtfully, eyes still tracing the page of the encyclopedia.

This was another new thing, his habit of sharing random facts. There is an unspoken understanding between them that they spend the afternoons here in their library because neither dares venture into the mob of noisy people and hectic thoughts that awaits them downstairs.

Wanda could take the solitude a step farther and stay in her room. Completely cut herself off from the noise. But somehow her room is too quiet. Too empty.

She wonders if he feels the same about his.

So they end up here, sharing each other’s company but rarely speaking. Not knowing what to say is another thing they have in common. Vision wants to talk, though. She can see it in the way he glances up from his book every once in a while, eyes darting to her, just briefly. And she tries to start the conversation sometimes, she really does. But it is frightening to realize how little she remembers of how. This is why Vision breaks the silence and she does her best to keep the conversation rolling.

Wanda tilts her head. “Cones? What cones?”

Vision straightens. “Oh, pardon me for the lack of context. I see this topic requires a little elaboration.” Enthusiasm brightens his eyes as he ponders how best to explain. He really does have nice eyes.

“The organic eye perceives light and color due to a thin layer of neurons and receptors covering its posterior wall. This layer is called the retina. The superficial layer of the retina is composed of photoreceptors, which come in two different varieties, cones and rods.”

Most of the words fly over her head, but Wanda cannot hide an amused smile as Vision adds his hands to his demonstration.

“The rods line the distal edges of the retina, providing sharp vision, while the cones cluster in the middle and supply color vision. Humans have three types of cones, each perceiving a different wavelength of light. Mantis shrimp, on the other hand, have sixteen different varieties.”

“So they see more colors?”

Vision purses his lips. “Oddly enough, no. They can see ultraviolet light, however, and a property of light called polarization. The latter is sort of the orientation of the light waves.” He holds his hands up side by side, first vertically, then horizontally.

“Hmm.” Wanda considers this, searching for a good question to ask. Her mind remains blank. It’s harder to think now that Pietro is gone, like trudging through knee deep snow with every thought.

After a few moments without a reply from Wanda, one corner of Vision’s mouth lifts. The other remains stubbornly flat, allowing him to offer her only an awkward half-smile before he ducks his head and returns to his book. It is the one expression he hasn’t figured out yet, likely because he always seems so unsure about it. As if he’s afraid to commit and show the wrong reaction.

Wanda bites her lip as silence returns to the room.

“It is quieter than usual.” She glances toward the hallway. Normally they can hear the murmur of activity floors below, but today there is an uncanny stillness. It is far quieter than even the weekend, which is only minimally less hectic than the rest of the week.

“Today is President Washington’s Birthday, a federal holiday,” Vision promptly replies.

Wanda stares at him.

He lifts his gaze and clears his throat, a little sheepish. “By which I mean no one except Agent Romanoff is working today.”

“No one else.”

“Correct.”

Wanda fiddles with her sleeves, tentatively reaching across the compound to confirm this. The only minds besides theirs are those of the security guards.

“Would… you be interested in exploring?” Vision traces the cover of his book, stealing a quick glance at Wanda’s face. “I haven’t had the chance to investigate most of the ground floor.”

Wanda looks around the library. There is nothing to do here. And the building is completely empty…

She shrugs. “I guess.”

Vision nods and stands, wiping his hands on his slacks. Despite the formality of the outfit, he looks comfortable in his vest and dress shirt. Still, he does not seem to completely grasp the idea of clothing. He hasn’t switched outfits since picking this one, choosing instead to just change the color every morning.

The moment they step from the elevator into the huge, empty lobby, Vision tenses. His eyes dart across the abandoned floor without seeming to actually see it.

“Let’s, um… Let’s go this direction.” Wanda tips her head toward the right, and Vision nods, blinking a couple times. They walk without talking, resisting the urge to tiptoe as their footsteps echo off the walls.

Most of the doors on the ground floor lead to bland offices, and the two floors above aren’t much better. The rooms are either locked, more offices, or storage.

Her flicker of anticipation for this journey has long died out and Wanda is about to give up, when they stumble across yet another storage room.

Vision examines the label on the door. ��Prop storage.”

Wanda lifts an eyebrow. “Props for what?”

With a shrug, Vision opens the door, gesturing for her to enter first. The room isn’t nearly as large as some they’ve found, but it’s stacked floor-to-ceiling with boxes, totes, and assorted junk all the same. For a building only recently built and occupied, the Avengers wasted no time filling it.

Seeing only junk, Wanda turns to exit. But when she doesn’t hear footsteps behind her, she glances over her shoulder to see Vision wandering deeper inside. With a sigh, she follows, fingers trailing idly over the shelving units.

“Theatre props is the first possibility that comes to mind, but I can see no logic in it,” Vision muses, still stuck on the room name.

Smooth leather meets Wanda’s fingertips, and she stops.

Is this…?

Reaching into the shelf, she slides out a black case and sets it on the floor. Her hands find the latch by memory, and she can’t hide the triumphant smile that crosses her face as the lid opens to reveal an acoustic guitar.

“Do you play?” Vision asks, peering over her shoulder.

“I did.” Wanda traces the wooden grain and gives the steel strings a gentle pluck or two. Glancing up, she catches Vision watching her expectantly. “What?”

“Are… Are you going to play it now?” Curiosity gleams in his eyes.

Her arms ache to hold it, her fingers to slot the notes and strum the strings. The need to play it winds together with another familiar ache, just as strong. The memory of her instructor. Her mama.

“No.” Wanda shuts the case.

“Oh.” Vision frowns. “Are you sure? I don’t think anyone would mind.” He glances around the empty room.

Wanda lifts the case and slides it back onto the shelf. “I’m sure.” Her curt tone keeps away any questions.

A few minutes later, they return to the library. But Wanda’s thoughts linger in the cramped props room all day.

The next morning, she is greeted by a black leather case outside her door. Frowning, Wanda eyes the case and searches for Vision’s mind. His thoughts echo from downstairs. Wanda shakes her head and sighs. She told him she wasn’t going to play.

For a moment longer, she stares at the smooth leather, picturing the instrument inside. She bites her lip. Kneeling beside the case, she flips open the lid. The guitar lies there quietly. Inviting. Promising. A soft brush of her fingers breaks the silence with a low hum. It needs to be tuned. Wanda pulls the case into her room and closes the door behind her. Before she can change her mind, she lifts the instrument into her arms.

The guitar is lighter than she expected, than she remembered. Yet it feels just as right. The strings are strong and familiar under her fingers and the ring of the notes resounds in her chest. The ache, the itch to play becomes louder than the need to avoid digging up old grief.

This floor really does belong to her and Vision, so no one will hear if she plays a few chords. None of the other rooms have ever been used, not even the offices, and not a single employee dares journey up here. Wanda feels the frantic spikes of fear in their minds on the rare occasions she enters their domain downstairs; it doesn’t take much to put two and two together and realize she has been isolated on purpose.

Normally, it would anger her. Normally, she would give them a piece of her mind. But she’s tired, and she is grateful for the solitude. For the quiet.

Especially today, when there is no one to hear her and ask questions, such as who taught her to play, or what the song is, or why she chose such a “sad” chord.

Wanda frets a D minor. She strums the waiting strings.

And finally the world fades away as she falls into the music.

----------

If the days are long and suffocating, the nights are worse. Darkness falls and Wanda lies awake, sleeping fitfully or not at all. The nightmares are fewer, but still she can’t sleep. Insomnia, Vision calls it.

But she avoids the subject, because she can’t talk about how her sleeping mind seeks out the comfort of his, diving into the ocean of gold when the nightmares start. Or how even her few good dreams take place on the seashore now. It’s too much, too close. Too personal to put into words.

There’s something about Vision. Wanda doesn’t understand it, but his mind and soul glow brighter than any she’s ever seen before. And somehow he and she are connected.

Yet every morning, she wakes and reminds herself she can’t lean on the comfort and reassurance he so willingly offers. What if she grows to need it? What if she begins to need him, and like everyone else in her life, he is taken away? She’ll be left behind again. Left alone.

She always is.

Wanda stares at the ceiling, her own breath too loud in her ears, nearly as loud as the thoughts burning in her mind. Flinging the covers aside, she slips from bed. There will be no sleep tonight.

The digital clock reads 2:11 AM. She walks just to move, to do something. She can’t outrun her own mind. But she can try.

Wanda tiptoes down the darkened hallway. The elevator looms ahead, and she stops. Down? No. The last thing she wants is to run into an obsessive employee working late into the night.

So up, then.

The doors open onto the rooftop and Wanda steps blinking from the harshly lit elevator. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the gentler light of the night. One by one, like frightened children, stars surface in the sky above, outlining a figure stationed at the building’s edge. His cape swirls softly in the brisk February wind.

She does not have to guess who it is.

Always, she and Vision end up together. In the library. Here. Are they really so similar that they seek the same places? Or did she search for him subconsciously? (She suspects it wouldn’t be the first time.) Or was it the invisible thread pulling them, a connection she can’t comprehend born from the moment she looked into his mind as he lay dreaming in the cradle. Part of him was still Ultron then. But Vision was there. She felt it.

Wanda steps quietly across the concrete. She stops just behind Vision, unwilling to disturb him but reluctant to go inside.

“I was disappointed to hear the New Avengers team would not be based at Stark Tower,” Vision says suddenly.

Stark. Wanda bites back a scoff. His disappointment is not mutual.

“It has nothing to do with Mr. Stark,” Vision continues, guessing her thoughts. “It is only that I have a certain… fondness for his view of the city lights.” He stares out over the dark countryside and she joins him, standing a couple feet from the edge. “They represent the life of the city, spread across the streets below. Still bright despite the hour, shining on both those awake and those peacefully slumbering. Pushing back the night like guardian angels. Providing a sense of comfort and safety.”

Vision’s words have the rhythm of poetry. His eyes glow softly like the light he paints such a reverent picture of. Wanda watches the serene blue spill over his pensive expression. In his light, she sees comfort. Safety. Just as he says. She looks away.

“There are more stars here, though.” Wanda nods toward the sky above. “You can’t see them in the city.”

Vision cranes his neck, searching the galaxies spread across the darkness. “But they’re so very far away,” he whispers. Curling his long legs beneath him, he sinks to the concrete, his head still tilted back to stare above.

Wanda stands in silence. She doesn’t know how to answer. Why his expression is so sorrowful or how to fix it. She doesn’t understand the source of his pain. But the ache of watching stars at night… This she understands. No matter how brightly, how beautifully they shine, they always burn out.

Wanda traces a meteor as it streaks across the sky and disappears from view.

Some stars even fall.

After a moment, Wanda sits beside Vision and pulls her knees to her chest.

The brilliant, glimmering show of the galaxies unfolds above them, millions of light years away. They watch until it melts before the threat of the morning light. Until every trace fades as if it were never there.

They do not say anything.

----------

Knock knock.

Stifling a groan, Wanda rolls out of bed and stumbles to the door.

“Hello.” Vision offers her a smile and a mug of coffee. The smile is as tentative as always, lifting only half his mouth. But a new light in his eyes makes up for it. “Good morning, Miss Maximoff.”

“Wanda,” she reminds him, accepting the steaming cup. She barely remembers to mumble her thanks before taking a long drink. Vision, as it turns out, is a much better coffee brewer than whoever made the burnt, bitter monstrosity.

Vision nods his acknowledgement. Is it just her grogginess, or does he hold his shoulders higher? Not with tension but with… confidence. He meets her eyes eagerly, boldly. As if he truly wants to be here. With her.

But maybe it’s just her imagination.

Vision’s gaze flickers past Wanda and into her room, just briefly. A sudden twinge of guilt twists in her chest. She didn’t join him in the library yesterday. In fact, after he delivered her morning coffee, she didn’t see him at all until nighttime. When they met on the rooftop under the stars.

She had spent all her time with the guitar, letting it pull her in and awaken an all-consuming desire to relearn the sound of the notes and the feel of the rhythm. To reclaim a piece of herself. And to be honest, she has no desire to share something so personal with anyone else. But Vision brought her the instrument. He gave her the push she needed to actually play it. It is only fair she let him hear a little.

Wanda takes another sip of her coffee to hide a sudden smile. With eyes as lively and curious as his, how could she say no? Lowering her mug, she clears her throat. “Also, thank you. For the guitar. I would not have gone back for it myself.”

“You are most welcome.”

She shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. “Would you… want to hear it?”

“Oh, yes please! If you don’t mind.” Those blue eyes Wanda can’t stop noticing glimmer with childish enthusiasm, and some of her hesitancy fades. She opens the door a bit wider and returns to her seat on the bed. Vision follows, gaze darting across the room, hands wringing. He stops just inside the doorway.

Breathing deeply, Wanda bends her head and focuses on her breathing. With each inhale and exhale, another piece of the world around her fades. Vision’s presence, the hum of activity floors below, the heater’s droning buzz. Her fingers slide down the polished fret. The strings bite into her sore fingertips, but the notes she plucks are clean and crisp.

They ring slowly and distinctly at first, each with a bold and individual voice. After a few measures the melody begins to grow, building and expanding beat by beat. Notes find their places, melding with their harmonies in a tune mounting in complexity. The volume, the tension builds until all the notes weave together, their voices joining in a single resounding chord that ends the song.

Wanda smiles to herself. The hours spent perfecting that piece and her red, aching fingertips are well worth it. Glancing up, she falters at the sight of Vision’s face. His eyes are wide and awestruck, as if she just performed a baffling magic trick. Though quite proud of herself, she must admit the tune isn’t particularly difficult or beautiful. But Vision’s expression says he thinks otherwise.

His gaze leaps from her, to the guitar, and back. “How did you do that?”

“I just… press my fingers here...” Surely he knows how guitars work.

“No, how did your hands move with such swiftness and precision? And in perfect coordination with each other?”

Her face reddens. “It wasn’t perfect.”

He stares at her hands. “It was entrancing.”

Wanda fidgets with the tuning pegs, embarrassed by his unabashed honesty and admiration. “Anyone could learn that.” The image of Vision poring over encyclopedias and old novels jumps to the front of her mind. “You could.”

His eyes snap to hers. “Oh, I truly don’t think so...”

“Would you like to try?”

“I-I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Giving him an encouraging smile, Wanda nods toward the bedspread next to her. The guitar looks small and delicate in Vision’s large hands as he carefully accepts it from her, propping it against his knee in an imitation of her posture. Awkward and uncertain, he looks to Wanda for guidance.

“Alright. The basics are mostly form and knowledge of the notes. The first string is an ‘E.’” She nods to him. He finds and plucks it. “Good. By holding the string against the board there at the top of the neck, you will make another note.” The “F” Vision plucks twangs brassy and flat. “You’ll have to press harder.”

He nods, brow furrowing as he applies more pressure and tries again. The note rings clear and musical.

“Good. To make a chord, press with more than one finger. The E minor is your second and third fingers on the second fret, fifth and fourth strings.” Her fingers curve around the empty air, miming the placement.

It takes her a moment to notice the wide-eyed look he gives her.

Wanda’s about to suggest they stick with single notes for now, when Vision cranes his neck and stares at the fretboard. “Second and third fingers,” he whispers to himself. His long, elegant fingers are strangely clumsy on the strings, fumbling to find the position.

“Second fret,” Wanda reminds him. She bites her lip as she watches him struggle. “Here.” She reaches for his hand. And just a moment too late, she remembers his aversion to touch.

Her fingers brush his and he jumps as if struck by electricity, the instrument nearly slipping from his grasp as he yanks his hand away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Wanda apologizes, face flushing bright red. Vision set a boundary through his careful actions, and she crossed it. It’s no way to repay someone who has been nothing but overwhelmingly kind to her. I didn’t mean to, I am so sorry-

“No, no, I must apologize. I honestly didn’t mean to respond in such a manner.” Guilt and horror at his own reaction chases the shock from Vision’s face. He looks just as sorry as she feels.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I should have asked.” Her entire face burns. He’s so new and inexperienced, more frightened and unsure than she probably knows.

“You only surprised me. I-” Vision stares down at the instrument in his hands. He takes a deep breath and his shoulders loosen downward a fraction of an inch. “I actually would like you to show me. The chord, that is.”

Glancing nervously toward his hands, Wanda bites her lip again. “M-may I?”

Vision’s irises rotate just once. She sees the moment he chooses to trust her. “Yes.”

His fingers are rigid and cold as she gently nudges them in the right direction, trying to keep her own hands from shaking as she explains how the notes fit together. He follows her guidance as best he can, the stiffness never leaving his hands. When Wanda checks out the corner of her eye, his jaw is just as tense as his arms. But then he glances at her, just briefly. And his eyes are soft and open. Longing, almost.

There is so much she does not understand about him. His sorrow the night before, his fear of people and touch. The hidden shame she’s just starting to hear behind his words. But there are some things that make sense now. There are some things she knows.

He trusts her. The realization startles Wanda in how sudden and obvious it is. He talks about his interests to her, lets her see the nervous and scared parts of him. He lets her guide his hand across the strings, despite the measures he takes to avoid even casual contact in the hallway.

Vision trusts her. But he doesn’t trust anyone else, and she knows exactly why. The few instances she’s seen him interact with others flash through her mind. Yes, he chooses to keep his distance, even during conversations, and never once has she seen him shake someone’s hand. But now that she thinks about it, she’s also never seen anyone offer him a handshake.

The people of Sokovia had avoided touching urchins such as Wanda and Pietro like they carried a disease. And isn’t Vision just like they were? Isn’t he new, and uncertain, and afraid, just like a child? Sent into the world alone just like an orphan?

Anger burns in her chest. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to take care of Vision, but they handed him off. Dropped him at the doorstep of the compound, where he is ignored and avoided by every employee. Where he is nothing to the Avengers but another recruit to whip into shape.

Wanda may not know them well, but she is certain the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. would not abandon a child. No, if a child was placed in their care, they would guide and nurture him, providing whatever he needed as he struggled to learn and develop. As he tried to discover who he was. And if they could not provide this, they would place him with someone who could. They would not fail a child the way they have failed Vision.

Do they really not see him?

“Perhaps I am capable of learning to play an instrument,” -Vision’s voice pushes Wanda’s thoughts aside, pulling her back to the present- “But I think I shall leave the music to one with more skill.” He gives her the half-smile, and her heart breaks a little.

She shakes her head slowly, trying to refocus. “You are not so bad.”

Vision passes the guitar to her. “Could I hear another song?” He asks so shyly, and a soft affection fills her heart.

Wanda shrugs, settling the guitar in her lap. “I guess it is not yet time for training. One more.” Her fingers move almost on their own as a flurry of thoughts continues to tumble through her mind. She feels Vision watching her contentedly, open admiration written across his face.

He is so young, so eager and afraid all at once. So desperate to make a connection and find something to hold onto. He needs more than someone to ask questions of and tell unusual facts. He needs direction, to be introduced to experiences and the world outside this building, just as he so strongly desires.

The Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have failed him, completely. Forgotten him.

Wanda will not.