#ugh i could talk on this subject for years

[diwooc]

extremely important reminder that POC communities are often the most overlooked and yet targeted communities for drugs and drug abuse. they will experience discrimination way more often than other communities, and be treated less by doctors!

we should also decriminalize drug use and abuse. we also need centers where people can safely shoot up, where there are trained nurses and staff around in order to give narcan if someone overdoses.

addiction always starts somewhere, and we need to change the way we approach this. and this starts with procuring the safety of them while we work on a way to combat and help addiction.

in medical systems, i am flagged as an addict because i have something called endometriosis - a condition in which my uterine lining was growing where it shouldn't (liver, bladder, ovaries, and lungs for me - it was bad enough that by the time i finally got a hysterectomy, an entire six years from my first diagnostic laprascopy and the absolute hell that was Orilissa*, that the endo was fusing some organs together. thank god the doctor was able to fix it with very few complications) - so I was in the hospital and ER since i was sixteen years old for help with a condition nobody wanted to look into.

eventually, it got to like a point where the usual pain killers just did not relieve the pain i was in, and i was in the er very frequently. this has led to complications in getting the help i need and needed! i was told by a nurse once, when i was curled up on the bed, just beside myself and in tears, that she cannot give me anything stronger than tylonel because i am drug seeking. paramedics brought me back in because i downed a bottle of Tylenol for what they called, "mild cramping."

thank god i don't have that organ anymore.

but a few days ago, i was in the hospital because my migraine got so bad that i couldn't see and i was nauseas and dizzy. doctor didn't want to treat me because i'm flagged in their system. of all the goddamn things he paid attention to, it was that. he accused me of being pregnant, lying about said pregnancy, and insisted on both a drug and pregnancy test. (imagine his fucking shock when they did an ultra sound and found no uterus, y'know, a major surgery that's been documented ... -)

BUT BACK TO MY MAIN POINT IS

the treatment of addiction is awful, and the sources should be safe, and the medical system needs to start treating it differently. alternatively, if a recovered addict tells the doctor they cannot take XYZ drug because that was part of their addiction, the doctor needs to listen. i've known a few whose doctors ignored them and insisted, "it's up to them to be strong enough to not relapse."

(*off topic but if anyone has a similar condition to me and your doctor suggests to try orilissa, call them a cunt.)

It is actually way better for 100 addicts to get their fix on pain pills than a single person in pain go without. I call this the "Torture is bad" principle. You should be able to get the good stuff forever after a single doctor's visit. If you're worried about addicts fund rehab centers and needle exchanges instead of torturing people.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi! I love your writing so much!! I'm currently loving your freelance inventor series! I don't see a lot of danny/bruce fics so it's always fun when you post one!! What danny thinks of the justice league, does he think they're just Bruce's extreme sports friends? Or his kids friends parents?

Danny first meets Bruce's extreme sports friends when Dick plans to introduce Wally-his first boyfriend- on a water skiing trip. It went a little hair-walled due to the misunderstanding.

He had been around the manor with some free time, so he asked Bruce if he could join once Dick brought up the trip and made a comment on how important things he needed to talk about.

Usually, Danny wouldn't have bothered, but because it was so long that thier friendship had started he felt like it was a good time to ask.

At first, both the Waynes appeared to be dancing around the subject that, for a second, Danny thought they didn't want him there. Not wanting to make them feel pressured—and a little embarrassed he had assumed he could tag along—he backtracked quickly, making up an excuse about flying out to see Dani.

There was an awkward dinner that evening, so Danny left immediately. He had planned on staying the night at Wayne Manor, but he felt he had overstayed his welcome from his silly request. Instead, he rented a hotel room in the more dangerous parts of the city.

Danny had been on the hotel's phone line all night, attempting to find a plan to take him somewhere close to Dani. He could fly with his powers the rest of the way, but he needed to create some kind of paper trail.

While he listened to the hold music of the airline representative, he felt a wave of shame. At that point, Danny had only known Bruce and Dick for a year- but with various breaks in between visits- and had thought that made them closer. Who did he think he was?

Bruce wanted their relationship to stay as business associates who occasionally hung out but nothing as important as a vacation trip. Danny had just been the idiot who thought himself more important.

Well, he would not be making the same mistake. He would only come back if it involved his work and would find his own lodging from now on. The Waynes had likely not know how to say no to him.

Idiot, Danny thought, pacing in his room and wiping away tears. Idiot. Stupid. Moron. Of course, Bruce Wayne doesn't think of you as a friend! Get a clue!

"Thank you for waiting, Mr. Fenton. A first-class plane ticket to Calais, France, has been booked for you on Monday, July 7th. Would you like to make this a round trip?" the cheerful woman asks him, and he sniffs.

"No. It's a one-way. I won't be coming back here for a while." The words feel like knives in his chest

She doesn't notice as she chirps "Alright then, that has been done for you. Thank you for using Wayne Airlines!"

Ugh, he even used Bruce's planes by accident. At least this will be the last thing he annoys the man with. The following morning, bright and early Danny is out the door with his suit case. He makes it all the way to the lobby where he bumps into a fretting Dick and some red head kid.

"Danny!" Dick cries. He flings himself onto his waist, squeezing with all his might. Danny is flabbergasted. "Danny, I only wanted Bruce to go on the water ski trip because I wanted to tell him about my boyfriend! I haven't told him I was bisexual yet, I wanted to tell him on the trip, but I made him swear not to mention it to anyone else, but then you asked to go, and Bruce couldn't figure out a way to tell you no without revealing that I wanted to talk about something important-but then you got sad, and then Bruce got sad and I-"

"Babe." The redhead cuts in. "Breath"

"Danny, please don't be mad at Bruce because of me!" Dick cries, rubbing his face against Danny's stomach. "I promise we didn't want to exclude you!"

Danny's heart melts, both by how cute Dick is and the knowledge that Bruce was just a good dad and not any of his insecure-inspired conclusions. "Oh, Dick. I'm sorry you felt that. I promise I'm not mad, and I'm so proud of you. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself with me."

He leans down to hug the boy, grinning as the ten year old sighs. Then he directs a glare at the redhead. He looks about twelve and frankly, Dick is far too young for a boyfriend. "Who's this?"

"I'm Wally West-"

"I asked Dick"

"Oh."

Dick leans back. "This is Wally. He's my best friend and boyfriend! Wally, this is Danny- he's like my second dad."

"It's nice to meet you, sir!" The redhead gulps as Danny's eyes narrow.

"Pleasure." He says in a voice that means anything but. "Dick, sweetie, how did you get here? Does Bruce know where you are?"

"Wally and I...ugh took a cap." Dick everts his eyes. "Bruce was talking to his friends trying to convince them to go on the trip too. He wanted to prove you were his special friend to his regular friends."

A thrill ran through Danny. He was Bruce Wayne's best friend!? "You know I think I can take you kids back home myself. Maybe we can still make a water ski trip!"

Both boys blink owlishly. "Yeah...maybe. Let me just call Uncle Barry to make sure he's going, too."

Wally sprinted to the front desk to borrow their landline while Dick stayed behind, babbling to Danny about how he knew he was bi and how he met Wally. Mentally, Danny was drafting a lecture to give Bruce for allowing his boy to date a co-worker and friend's nephew, especially at this young age! He didn't let his thoughts appear on his face, only nodding and smiling between Dick's word vomits.

Meanwhile, on Wally's side, he uses the Justice League hotline to speak to his Uncle. His call was transferred to the meeting with all the original founders as he used the emergency code accesses Barry had taught him.

His call was placed on speaker for everyone to hear.

"Code Teal for B! Code Teal for B!" he hissed into the phone. The rest of the members sat up straighter and sent Batman looks of alarm. Code Teal was a spouse or lover who thought a hero was cheating on them because of the mission's old hours. We needed to come together to cover for them.

Batman was hiding his face in his hands. ".....Confirm Code Teal."

"Oh and before I forget Code Artificial red for Dick and me" Wally shouts, ignoring the imploding shouts from Batman or Uncle Barry.He hung up not wanting to explain that the boys had chosen to use Fake-out-make-out in order to convince Danny to stay.

He wouldn't mind dating Dick, but maybe later when they were both older. Not that Danny needed to know that.

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Love Is A Losing Game

The avox stood against the wall, waiting for you to beckon, while you sat in your sunroom with your longtime best friend, Livia. You were at a small table drinking tea and listening to her complain about her toddler, Plutarch.

“Ugh. I swear, I can't even go to the powder room without him following me.” Reaching for a biscuit, your dirty blonde friend sighed, “I told Hilarious that we need to hire a nanny, but he said no.”

She took a small bite of her biscuit as you sipped on your tea. You didn't know why she was so upset about her toddler wanting to spend time with her. And you told her so too.

“You just don't understand how demanding motherhood is, Y/N. Just you wait and see.” Pointing to your round belly, Livia factually remarked, “In a few more months when you pop out Coriolanus’ little brat you'll be singing a different tune.”

“Don't call Cassian Xandros a little brat.” You snippily ordered your friend, causing her to just roll her eyes at you. Setting down your teacup, you decided to change the subject to something that you needed to get off your chest; something that's been eating away at your mind. “I think Coryo's having an affair.”

“He's only been president for a few months, Y/N. If word got out, well, it'd be scandalous and I'm sure his political career would be dead in the water.” Livia told you while nibbling on her lemon butter biscuit. “Do you know with whom?”

“No, but I know he has to be having an affair, Livia. I mean he comes and goes at all hours and half the time he's not even coming to bed; we haven't slept together in a while too.”

“Oh no, now that is a problem.” The dirty blonde socialite sighed. “I bet it's Clemensia Dovecote that he's cheating with. You don't know, since you were a couple grades below us at the Academy, but they were always walking into the school linked arm in arm. Even though they denied it, they looked like a couple back then.” Livia bluntly informed you, picking up her teacup and sipping it.

“Really? I didn't know that.” You honestly told your friend. Reaching for your own teacup, you revealed the name of the person you thought your husband had a thing for back in his Academy days. “Coryo was always with Sejanus back then; I always got the vibe that they were a little bit more than just friends.”

“Oh I hope not. He was district.” Livia spat out; the thought of the president having a past love affair with a district person making her skin crawl.

If only she knew about what went down between him and Lucy Gray. Oh, she'd shit her pants if she knew about that.

You know, of course, since he told you about it after a year of dating. When you had to all but pull his teeth to get him to reveal why he refused to tell you that he loved you; show you anything other than lust and his OCD tendencies.

It didn't bother you.

Correction, him having Lucy Gray as his ex and his failed first love didn't bother you, but the number that she did on him- now that’s what bothered you.

She fucked his head up pretty bad; took you a long time to unfuck it up too. To get him to be able to confess his love to you.

But somewhere deep inside of your soul, you always feared that Coryo was just telling you what you wanted to hear. That he didn't truly love you; that he could turn to somebody else once he got bored of you.

“Yea…but they were close friends. Like brothers” You reminded Livia. “And his death hit Coriolanus hard.”

That was an understatement. Your husband still had nightmares about his fellow comrade’s death. It happened a decade ago, but he was still haunted some nights by nightmares. Those nights you usually had to ride his cock to calm him down so he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He never talked about the nightmares, other than the one time he told you that it was about Sejanus’ death. You never pried, knowing that the Plinth boy's execution was a taboo topic for Coriolanus.

The socialite rolled her eyes, only to suggest, “If you think he's having an affair then you should wait up for him tonight and confront him.” Giving you a look from over her teacup, she added in, “It's what I would do.”

Coriolanus was exhausted. No, wait, take that back- he was FUCKING exhausted.

Between trying to clean up the fucking mess that older then dirt President Ravenstill left for him and trying to ensure a smooth transition of head gamemaker duties to his successor (a recent University grad that sadly didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground), he was stretched too thin.

Burning the candle at both ends as one might say.

He was barely sleeping; worse he was barely able to spend anytime with you.

You were 6 months pregnant with his first child.

A son.

He felt guilty for being in his office on the opposite side of the presidential palace or at the Citadel, but he didn't have a choice. The games along with trying to keep the country afloat was his top priority.

As much as he wanted to spend his late afternoons and evenings with you, he couldn't. And he wanted nothing more than to fuck you dumb on his dick every night too, but sadly he was just too tired anymore for that either.

When the new Head Gamemaker calls up in the middle of the night frantically asking what to do if an intern falls into a mutt tank…well…yea…that's when Coriolanus knows he has to do two jobs instead of just one.

He's stuck puppeteering the new head gamemaker *cough* telling him step by step how to do is damn job since he fucking fudged his job application and has shit for brains *cough* and running a country that's national bank account’s lower than it should be *cough* looks like President Ravenstill and his cabinet were embezzling funds or something cause the numbers aren't adding up *cough*.

“Yes, well, if you need any more assistance on this matter don't hesitate to call.” Coriolanuse tightly told the Head Gamemaker. The man was grating on his nerves. Before the unqualified idiot could utter a word, the president said goodbye and hung up.

Hung up with a firm, loud, clunk since he was so tired and aggravated.

Unfortunately, the president was always tired anymore. He was even too tired to fuck you these days, which was truly depressing for him since your Coryo felt you were even more beautiful now that your belly's round with his child.

Coriolanus felt that your pregnancy makes you look radiant. Your skin had a glow to it, he felt you look ethereal.

Your tits were full from the milk your body was making in order to feed your son once he was born; he loves your milk heavy boobs. Coriolanus Snow’s a tits and ass man; so your boobs going up by 2 sizes was heaven for him. The president enjoys sucking and massaging them in his large, calloused hands while you ride his cock. Burying his face in them, peppering kisses in your cleavage.

Something his exhaustion has been keeping him from doing.

Also, your ever growing belly (full of the precious life you created during a very passionate and lustful night 6 months prior) made his chest swell with a burning pride. Coriolanus loves kissing your stretch marks and running his hands all over your belly.

He also enjoys whispering to your belly, telling your growing son all kinds of father-son secrets.

But he’s been too tired and tied up with his never ending work to do that ritual.

Half the time he was passing out on the sofa in his office before he could even make it to your room; the other half of the time he was sliding into bed in the wee hours while you were in a deep sleep.

He hated it.

But he has to endure it because he refuses to have the games flop during his first year as President of Panem.

When Coryo dragged his feet into your large, ornate bedroom he wasn't expecting you to be up, waiting for him. He assumed you'd be asleep, like every other night.

“It's nearly 2 in the morning, Y/N. Why aren't you sleeping? You know you need proper sleep in your condition, my darling rose.” Your husband lectured you, tiredly fumbling to untie his tie.

You decided to do what LIvia suggested. Wait for your husband and confront him. So, when he shuffles into your room, a sight for sore eyes, with the nerve to lecture you about being up, you lost it.

Your eyes narrowed at the president as you snipped out, “Coriolanus, I know you're cheating on me. Who is she? Is it Clemensia Dovecote or somebody else?”

Pulling his tie off and tossing it to the side, he looked at you as if you had lobsters crawling out of your head. You’re accusing him of having an affair. Seriously?

“With how I’m spread too thin, darling, where would I ever find the time for an affair?” Coriolanus chuckled.

He thought this was funny, oh how dare he!

“This isn't funny, Coriolanus! You're coming and going at all hours; we never sleep together anymore. Who is she?!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, watching your husband unbutton his waistcoat and take it off.

The platinum blonde’s long fingers numbly unbuttoned his shirt. His tone was flat and tired as he gave you the blunt answer of, “The she that's taking all of my attention off of you, my love, is the shaky finances of Panem and the Hunger Games.”

All of the air was knocked out of your lungs upon hearing your husband's words. All you could do was blink. “What?” you whispered in disbelief.

Coryo's shirt hit the floor, in the pile his red waistcoat and tie was in. Toeing out of his shoes, he sighed, “Being president and passing the baton for the games to an under qualified head gamemaker, unfortunately, has taken up all my time.” Unbuckling his belt and pulling down his deep crimson pants, he offered up a sincere apology of, “I’m sorry, my darling rose, that my neglect made you think, even for a moment, that I’m being unfaithful to you.” His pants pooled around his long, pale legs, and he gracefully stepped out of them. “Y/N, I truly did not mean for you to feel such a way, my love.”

Watching your husband pull off his socks and toss them to the side, you cried tears of joy. “I forgive you; I'm just happy that it's work taking up your attention and not some whore.”

Coriolanus tiredly made his way over to the king-sized bed you shared and climbed into it. Pulling you into his arms, he let out a puzzled scoff of, “Clemmie? Really, of all people to accuse me of having an affair with it's her?”

“I didn't accuse you of cheating with her; that was actually Livia this afternoon when I told her that I suspected you of having an affair.” You informed your husband as he pulled the blankets over the both of you.

“You told that bitch you thought I was cheating on you?!” Coryo exclaimed, his nostrils flaring; baby blues wide in utter horror.

“Don't call Livia a bitch, Coriolanus.” You reprimanded your husband, only to remind him that, “She's my best friend.”

“I don't know how you're best friends with that shrew, darling.” Coriolanus mumbled mostly to himself, even though you heard him. His large, calloused hand rubbed your ever growing baby bump softly. “Telling Livia your ill founded fears was a mistake. She'll just tell that political reject husband of her’s; he'll be calling up Capitol News 6 with a juicy insider story about the unfaithful president.” Coryo’s tongue popped angrily. “My fake affair’s going to be the the main news headliner tomorrow morning, my darling rose.”

“No, it won't, Coryo.” You assured your husband since you had too much faith in your best friend.

Your husband on the other hand didn't have faith in Livia Cardew-Heavensbee, at all. No, he didn't trust her after the temper tantrum she through when her mother informed her that he was courting you, General Prometheus Byzantine’s step-daughter, and had refused to meet with the Cardews regarding a money match.

Coriolanus never told you about that because he didn't want to taint your friendship with the dirty blonde shrew, who only married Hilarious because she couldn't have him: the adoptive heir to the Plinths fortune.

But now maybe it was time to tell you. Maybe it was time to taint and ruin a girlhood friendship of yours.

Only to ensure that you wouldn't trust anyone that didn't carry the Snow name.

Yes, the only people you could trust were him and Tigris. He was even leery about Tigris’ new lover, Aleka. Eh, but that was because his spies haven't been able to dig up enough information on them for the president to decide whether or not they were trustworthy.

But, he's sure that after he tells you the truth about Livia that you'll be rethinking that friendship.

And when (not if) that article hits the news as the big headliner, he'll make sure to invite Hilarious over for drinks.

Drinks that only one of them will enjoy.

Snow lands on top and he'll make sure that anybody who slanders his good name or makes you believe he's an unfaithful man, when he's actually the most devoted and faithful husband in all of Panem, chokes on their own blood.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen , @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader She’s the Man AU

Summary: inspired by she’s the man, with a few changes

Warnings: Chad’s a bit of a jerk but nothing else really

WC: 9.3k

Author’s Note: sorry for any mistakes. Hope y’all enjoy:)

"What?!"

"Sorry girls but I can't really do anything about it."

"But we win more games than the boys do!!"

"Yea what the fuck why aren't they the ones getting cut."

"What?! No you don't, you guys just face other girls that don't know how to play."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn't believe you dated him. To be fair you had been sexually confused for a long time. Battling your inner self to be true to who you were. Frankie was your ex boyfriend and you honestly wanted to slap yourself every time you looked back at that relationship. You honestly didn't know what you were thinking.

"Oh really you guys haven't won a game since like what freshman year?" You backfired. "Can't even win a game against the schools rivals, Woodsboro Panthers." The boys in front of you glared at you knowing that it was always a touchy subject. The team had always been sore losers.

"I'm sorry girls but we have to practice unlike some people." The couch and the boys laughed as they walked away.

The girls team was left standing on the field feeling a mix of emotions. You were beyond pissed and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

*

You had been walking home, your music blasting in your ears. You had been extremely bummed out, your dream had always been to play soccer in the big leagues. Wanting nothing more than to play with your idols. Couldn't really do that if your school doesn't have a girls team. You would have to transfer to another school that does have one but you'd doubt that your parents would let you. The closest school would be Woodsboros, but they also didn't have a girls team.

The sudden pull of your jacket had you stumbling back. "Ah what the hell!" You turned around taking off your headphones. Only to be faced with your brothers girlfriend.

"Anthony-Oh ew it's you."

"What do you want Sherrie."

"Where's your brother. When you see him tell him to call me."

"What's the number, 1-800-BIYATCH." You laughed to yourself.

"Whatever. Just tell him."

You laughed as she walked away and went into the house.

*

"Wait what do you mean you're leaving?" Your eyes followed your twin brother (although you didn't really look that much the same, there was similarities but you were a bit taller then he was. And the much better looking twin) he was moving back and forth from his bag and his closet.

"The band got booked to perform in fucking London. Can you believe that?"

"London?  As in London England? Wait, what about school. Don't you start next week?" You were sat on his bed strumming his acoustic guitar.

"Oh right, I wanted to ask if you can cover for me. You know, use that mom voice of yours and I don't know  make a call or something." He closed his bag and packed one of his many guitars. Once he was finished he looked at you with a smile.

"Wait, what about mom and dad?"

"One of the ups of having divorced parents. Mom thinks I'm with dad. Dad thinks I'm with mom. And they both hate each other too much to call each other." Throwing two of his bags out window, followed by his guitar.

"And what about your girlfriend? I don't even know why you date her."

"Cause she's hot, it's a guy thing. Well, I'll see you in like two months, maybe more." Anthony smiled and left through the window.

"Anthony!"

"Oh were you talking with your brother?" The sudden voice of your mother startled you.

"Uh yea, on the phone. What the hell is that?" You used the horrendous dress that your mom was carrying as a way out. If clearly worked when your mom beamed down at you.

"It's your dress. For the-Ugh mom." You groaned, knowing what she was going to go on about. "I said I'm not doing it. There's no way I'm putting on a dress. Literally the last time I wore one was when I was two. I'm not doing it." Standing up and putting your brother's guitar away.

"I don't know even know why I keep trying." She said as she walked away. You rolled your eyes and stood up. Looking into the mirror. Your brothers picture to the side. You picked it up and held it up. You never understood how you were related to him. Let alone a twin. You truly never looked alike. You were a bit taller than he was. And honestly stronger as well.

"Well if you can't beat them. Join them."

**

"Ha. You're funny." The hairdresser laughed. Kirby shook her head as she continued to cut her clients hair. Looking back at you, only to stop laughing. "Oh you're not kidding. Wait you're serious."

"Yea come on Kirb, I have a point to make. And I can't do it if you don't help me. Quinn, Anika back me up." You looked back at your best friends.

"Yea come on Kirby. The coach and the whole school in general think that girls can't do half of the things boys can do. They kept the stupid boys team and they don't even win!" Quinn spoke, she was still heated on the matter. Although she didn't have the same dreams as you, she still wanted to support you.

"Yea Kirby, they even got new uniforms and lockers for the boys team. A losing team might I add again." Anika voiced from your side.

"Come on Kirby please." The three of you spoke simultaneously.

The elderly client butting in. "Yea come on Kirby."

With a laugh Kirby laughed and nodded. "Fine."

*

"Damn. You make one fine ass man." Quinn whistled when you stepped out. You so badly wanted to scratch your head. The wig was something you'd have to get used to.

"Shut up. Do I really look like a man?"

"Yea one hot ass man." Anika joked as she stood next to you, reaching up to fix your wig. Quinn laughed from her seat as she ate her popcorn.

"Okay. Now we got the walk. The talk. Tomorrow you start. Remember be confident. You got this. We got all the paper work ready, oh and also. Remember to respond to the name Anthony. Anika literally tried to get your attention using your brothers name, and you didn't listen. Cause you have to get used to it." Kirby said as she got some of the popcorn from Quinn.

"Okay. I got this. I got this."

**

"I don't got this. Take me back. This was a stupid idea. Don't you ever let me come up with any more ridiculous ideas ever again. I can't believe you actually listened to me. You never listen. I can't believe I came this far. Well it's far enough. Take me back-Y/n stop!"

"Relax. You got this, now suck it up and get your shit together." Kirby handed you your bags and pushed you towards the entrance of the school.

You gulped and took a deep breath in trying to calm your nerves. With a look of encouragement from Kirby you made your way into the school.

*

Going into the boy side of the dorm rooms had been everything you expected and more. It was literally your worst nightmare come to life. The smell alone was enough for you to want to turn on your heels and leave. A mixture of body odor and a tone of axe spray. But you had to do this. You now had a point to make and you were going to make it.

You've never moved so fast to make it to your dorm. Slamming the door shut once, the relief of being in the safety of your room was washed away when you felt eyes on you. You were quick to straighten up and eyes wide as you looked at the three boys.

Clearing your throat, remembering to deepen your voice. "What up. Y'all must be my roommates." Nervously fumbling with your keys.

"Uh na I'm your roommate Chad. This is Ethan and that's Wes. They live next door."

You nodded as you put your bags down. Trying to swallow the anxiety that you felt coming up your throat.

"Yo what's your name?"

You turned around to look who was talking. Wes sat on the window seat playing with a ball.

"Anthony Y/ln, so you play the beautiful game bruhs, bros? Brothers?" You had tried to remember how boys talk but at the moment your mind was going blank.

"Yea, Ethan midfield and Wes plays defense and I'm a striker. What about you?"

"Center Midfield."

You cleared your throat as you got unpacked your bag. Taking out your boots, only remembering the tampons you shoved into the boot when Chad pointed them out.

"Dude why do you have tampons?!"

"Uh. I get really bad nose bleeds?"

After the horrifying and embarrassing display of you shoving a tampon up your nose. You were left with a big sense of regret. As the boys laughed and mocked you.

*

So far it's been alright.

That's a big fat lie. So far it's been hell. Things are horrible. The first try outs were today and man. You'd think it had been your first time playing. You had always thought you were great at soccer. It was a sport you loved. You had played it for the longest time. Now you wouldn't go and say you were horrible but you had a lot to learn. Especially since you made it on to the second string. That had been disappointing.

"Good job boys. Nice work, for the second strings don't feel discouraged. You are just as much on this team as the first stringers. Now go hit the shower. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Coach Loomis spoke before leaving to his office.

Showers?!

Crap! How could I forget about the freaking showers?!

You tried to think of any possible reason why you wouldn't be able to. You'd didn't really want to see anyone naked. Let alone a bunch of immature boys. But the closer you got to the boys locker the more you were starting to panic.

"Y/LN! Principal Riley wants to talk to you. So get a move on." Coach yelled from his office.

You had never felt so much relief like you did this moment. Never moving  so fast to get out of a room before.

*

The talk with the principal had been one of the weirdest and most awkward talks you had ever been in. As you walked out of the office you felt your body collide with a smaller body.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" The sudden action causing your voice to come out normal before you could even realize. Moving to help pick up the books the shorter girl dropped.

"It's okay."

You looked up, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. The girl in front of you was so, beautiful. Completely gorgeous. The faint freckles that littered her face, made you want to count every single one. Her dark brown eyes, were so mesmerizing that you could get lost in that pool of dark chocolate. Her small smile had your heart hammering in your chest. The dimples that appeared had to be the cutest things you had ever seen.

"Uh here's your books." You cleared your throat deepening your voice, the smile that she directed your way was enough for you to almost go weak to the knees.

"Thanks. You're the new transfer student, right? I'm Tara."

Tara. What a beautiful name. You returned the smile, "Y/-Uh Anthony. It's nice to meet you Tara." You held out your hand for her to shake, at the sound of her giggle, your smile grew just a tad bit. But the moment her soft, small, warm hand was in yours it was like your hand was made to hold hers. At the sight of her blushing cheeks, you pulled your hand away, clearing your throat.

"Well it was nice to meet ya Tara. I have to go and do some, guy stuff. Uh I'll see you around." With a nod you were quick to walk away. Part of you hoping you'd run into the Tara again.

*

"Dude this is not working. Who knew making friends as a dude could be so hard. Not to mention that I'm starting to smell. Kirby how could I forget about the showers. My roommate is a bit of jackass and-Alright take it easy. I can help you with the making friends situation and the shower problem. Let me just get the girls I've got a plan." Kirby cut you off before hanging up, not giving you a chance to respond.

"Kirby? Hello? Ugh, I hate when she does that." You mumbled. The past two days of being a 'man' have been a little bit harder than you had expected. Your roommates along with his friends are bit of jerks and clearly didn't want to be around you.

It wasn't long till, Kirby showed up with Quinn and Anika. Who had bright smiles on their faces. You hurried to get in the car. "Oh I've miss-oh wow you stink." Quinn cut herself off, pulling away from you.

"Don't remind me. Now what's your plan?"

*

With feeling fresh and clean, you walked into the restaurant with a new found confidence. You knew at least half of the students and soccer team were in the place at the moment. It was great for Kirby's plan, 'Make friends plan'. Her own way of making friends for you was well, "the boy way". That's why she had brought Quinn and Anika.

"Fuck here comes Anthony. Spread out so it looks like we don't got room." Chad nudged Ethan to the side as they spread out in the booth. It wasn't like he hated the guy but since the tampon moment in their room. He wasn't in a rush to make friends with his roommate.

"Oh my god Anthony Y/ln! Oh my god I've missed you so much."

Chad was pulled from his conversation with Ethan to see a red haired girl. She was hot.

"Quinn. Hey baby, how you doing?"

Chad couldn't understand how someone like Anthony could have girl like this one. The guy was weird. He acted completely strange. But here he was with this hot girl. Eyes widening a bit when the girl lightly kissed Anthony on the lips before leaving. He heard Ethan chocking on his soda when yet another girl, just as hot, called out to Anthony. The way this dark haired girl refused to let him go. Only leaving when Anthony slapped her butt.

"What the fuck? Did those two just talk to Anthony? Him?" Wes spoke in pure disbelief. There was no way. Seeing a hot brunette coming his way. He took his chance. "Hey there pretty lady."

"Ew. Are you talking to me?"

"I was just- Yea sure let me make it clear, girls with asses like mine don't talk to boys with faces like yours."

The two teammates shared a look, trying to hold in their laughter at the face Wes was making. The one of pure embarrassment.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend Anthony Y/ln."

The three boys jaw dropped in disbelief.

*

"Fuck it's your brothers girlfriend. Don't let her get too close or she'll recognize you." Kirby had spoken so quickly you barely had time to understand before you heard Sherries obnoxiously loud voice.

"Wait what?"

"Anthony!"

"Oh fuck uh be gone you craziest-" You felt a small sense of fear as you tried to dodge Sherries attempts to get to you. You had gone as far as using a stack of pizza boxes to cover your face. "Can't you take a hint. If I don't answer your phone calls or your texts. It could only mean one thing. We are done!"

Sherrie had acted like you expected. Leaving with scream of anger and most likely embarrassment. You were relieved on the other hand. Your cover was not blown. You heard the cheers and even felt the acceptance of your schoolmates.

"Dude that was awesome."

"You're officially my idol."

"Make room for the man."

*

Like Kirby had predicted. The plan had worked. You had the "respect" of your teammates and the school. Although you kinda felt a little bad for Sherrie. Even though she's been nothing but a bitch to you. You also didn't stink that was good. You had gotten used waking up super early in the morning. Getting the showers to yourself.

"Hey Anthony."

You turned at the sound of your brothers name. That was also something you kinda got used to. Being addressed as your brothers name and not yours.

At seeing who called for you, it had you smiling in a way you couldn't really control. "Tara hey. How are you doing?" You faced the shorter girl. She returned the smile as she looked up at you.

"I've been good. I haven't seen you around the past week. How's the school treating you." Tara had tried to see Anthony around the campus. But the campus was huge. She hasn't even got a glimpse of Anthony which was extremely disappointing.

"Oh it's been something else. I like the campus though." You looked down to what she was holding and it was stack of what you could clearly tell were heavy books. You reached for them without really realizing that you were. "Let me help you with those." You didn't really give her a chance to decline before taking most of the books.

"Thank you. But you didn't have to." Tara could feel the warmth coming from her cheeks. She could only hope that Anthony couldn't notice.

"It's okay, now what are you even studying that requires you to carry so many books." At sound of her laugh you smiled, her laugh was so sweet.

"Oh I've been transferred out of my class into another. Apparently I was too smart for that class."

"Nice, a smart girl." You teased smiling in satisfaction when you saw her blush. "No but seriously, aren't you running for class president?"

"Yes, I'm been elected to run. It's nothing." She looked away from his gaze. Her own mother had been dismissive of her achievements. She hated the feeling of being a disappointment. She's tried not to let her mother's words affect her but, it's her mother. The harsh words are bound to have an affect.

"Are you kidding? That's great, you were elected, which that alone is awesome. Don't sell yourself short. But don't worry future Ms.President. You have my vote." The smile you got in return was something you'd cherish. You hated how sad she had looked for a just a second before the look was gone.

"Thank you. That means a lot. Well this is me." Never had she felt so disappointed to arrive to her class. She had wanted to keep talking to Anthony. The way he acted around her was in a way no other boy has. He didn't treat her like she was just a piece of meat, like she was just some type of trophy he could show off to his friends. He was different from the other boys in school. "I'll see you later?" Hoping her voice didn't come off as hopeful.

"Of course. Later Ms.Future President." With a small bow you handed her books and walked away. Smiling when you heard her laugh.

*

Arriving into your biology class was something you weren't looking forward to. You hated cutting open any animals or anything that was once alive. Taking a seat as your roommate and his friends took a seat in front of you. The boys becoming your friends was also something new. Ever since that day at the pizza place your popularity had grown.

"Dude I keep forgetting to ask. But how long did you date that girl?" Chad asked as he took a seat in front of his roommate.

"Too long-Alright pick a name out of the bowl and who ever you have will be your lab partner for the rest of the year."

Taking one of the pieces of paper from the bowl you unfolded it. Smiling at the sight of the name. "Tara Carpenter." You looked up, searching for your brun-the brunette that was becoming your favorite. Eyes connecting with the beautiful chocolate eyes. Oh how you loved chocolate. Seeing the smile on her face as she looked at you. Sending a small wave.

"Dude you know Tara Carpenter? Switch with me." Chad couldn't help the small sense of jealousy at the way the girl he liked was looking at Anthony.

"Yea and no cause I said her name out loud." You gathered your things and moved to table Tara had moved to. Placing your bag on the table as you sat down. Leaning forward just bit.

"Hey Tara. I gotta be completely honest with you. The whole dissecting thing freaks me out, so I think you're gonna have to take the reins on this one." You whispered to her. Hoping no one else heard you.

"Wow I don't think any other guy would have admitted to that."

"Crap, you're right." Your eyes widen as you looked down at the paper with a cut open frog. The feeling of wanting to barf came strong.

"No no. It's okay. I got you. I'll take the lead." Tara wanted to wipe the frown on his face. It was such an adorable look but she also wanted to comfort him, so she reached for his hands, taking his hand into hers. His hands were so soft. Not like any other boy's hands she's touched. The warmth and softness of his hands made her want to hold on to them longer.

"Uh no papers from other classes on the table." A boy you e never seen before said, paper was pushed in between in your face and Tara's. Seeing the color of the paper. You quickly tried to grab it but Tara was quicker.

"Oh what's this poems?"

"Lyrics. They're hi-my my old stuff."

"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be. And I don't wanna go home right now."

You sighed in relief, realizing it was a song you wrote for your brother to sing. He wanted a romantic song and your were such a sucker for them.

"This is really good."

The way she was looking at you had your throat in a knot. Feeling like she could read your mind by the way she was staring intensely into your eyes.

*

As you walked out of the classroom you were pulled by the back of your shirt. "Dude what the fuck Chad!" Pulling your shirt from his grip.

"Anthony my guy. Did you tell her anything about me?"

"Who Tara? Was I supposed to?"

"Come on man. You could convince her to go out with me."

He looked so serious you couldn't help but laugh. "Dude you've been going to school together for, how long? I don't think she likes y-Come on! If you help me. I'll help you train to make first string for the rivalry game."

"Wait what? Seriously?" You were good, but apparently not good enough to make first string. And you had something to prove. You couldn't be distracted by anything. Not even a pretty brunette. It wasn't like Tara liked you.

"Okay, I'll tell her all about Chad Minks and how he's a great dude. But I won't force her."

"You're the man Anthony!" Chad cheered, this was going to work. He knew as much. He just needed someone to sweet talk him up to Tara. Then he would be the hottest guy dating the hottest girl in the school.

*

Training with Chad was fun. The more you trained with him. The more if felt like you were getting better than before. The love you had for game had always been big. Always trying to improve your self in how you play. With Chad's help you were a whole lot prepared and skilled during practices.

As for helping with Tara. It was coming along. Well the best it could without sounding pushy about the situation.

"So when can you let me read the rest of that poem?"

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of Tara's voice. You tried to avoid the frog that was cut open in front of you.

"Poem? What poem?" You teased, smiling when she squinted her eyes at you.

"Ugh you suck. I'm going to get you to read it to me one day. You just watch."

"Now, I heard from your friend Amber that you like someone."

"What?" Tara felt her eyes widen. She was going to kick Amber's ass when she sees her. Amber wouldn't tell him, that she liked him right? The feeling of her heart racing as she watched Anthony write down some notes before looking right at her with those soft y/ec eyes.

"Yea, is it by any chance Chad Minks? Cause I've seen what the way he looks at you. I mean I can see it."

Seeing the disbelief and was that disgust? You weren't sure. Reading people wasn't something you were really good at.

"Chad?"

"Yea."

"No."

"Yea."

"No! I mean he's good looking and all but he's just not the guy for me." Tara had tried to like Chad. He was what most girls wanted at the school. But every time she looked at him, she felt nothing. Chad was just like every other jock that has tried to get into her pants. Only wanting her for her body. She had seen how Chad was with Liv. Liv had been so in love with Chad. But the moment Chad got bored he left Liv. Liv had been left heart broken. Tara had gotten used to blocking out any guy that had tried to hit on her. Most of the guys (if not all of them) had always succeeded in making her extremely uncomfortable.

"Hmm I don't know maybe there's more to him than you think there is." You hated yourself for even bringing it up, you could tell this conversation was annoying Tara.

"So he's not just another dumb jock, who wants to get in my pants. So he could tell his friends but is too-Insecure to treat you as an equal?" You understood how she felt. It wasn't long you were also dating a dumb jock.

Tara looked at the taller boy in shock. Never had she met someone, let alone a boy, understand what she had felt. Seeing him agree had honestly left her feeling baffled.

"You know you are the first guy at this school who hasn't tried anything with me."

You felt you cheeks heat up as you cleared your throat, "Oh uh I'm not really looking for another relationship. Just got out of one that was a bit, hard I guess? You're a great friend Tara. You're actually the only person in this school I feel comfortable around."

Even if she felt a bit more that just disappointed that he only saw her as a friend. She offered him a smile. "I feel the same way about you." Her vocie coming out softer than usual. Looking into those beautiful y/ec eyes. It was enough for her to get lost in them. Even if he only saw her as a friend. She could work with that.

"Good, and just take my advice. Chad's a pretty cool dude, get to know the guy."

"I'll consider it." She was most certainly not going to. She watched as the soccer player tried to focus back on the task at hand. The cut open frog they still had to be dissected. The cute grossed out facial expression on his face was too cute for her to ignore.

"So what's that exactly?"

"Uh I think that's the spleen." A small noise of acknowledgment was all she got in response before she saw Anthony fainting and falling to his side. With a chocked laugh she was quick to check on him.

*

"I honestly thought you were joking about the dissecting thing freaking you out this bad." Tara couldn't hold back her giggles as he finally woke up. She had been worried at first. But the more she remembered the face the soccer player made, the more she couldn't help but to laugh.

"Ugh." You sat up, realizing you were now in the nurses room. You felt a little warm inside to see that Tara was sitting next your bed. Wondering if she was sitting there while you were out cold.

"How are you feeling? Down to dissect more frogs?" This time Tara couldn't help the full belly laugh.

As much as you tried to keep a straight face, a smile made its way to your face. You really liked the sound of her laugh. Her smile, the dimples you liked so much being on display. "You're so mean."

Tara brought up her hand to cover her mouth. Trying to control her laughter. "I'm sorry."

She looked utterly beautiful. The sun coming from the window shined on her like if she were an angel. All you wanted was to kis-Uh oh. No. No you couldn't be falling in love with Tara.

You couldn't.

*

"Yo! You okay? I can't believe you passed out over a cut open frog." The laugh that followed was nothing like Tara's.

"Yea whatever. But I've got you half way. She's considered going out with you." You flopped on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Falling in love was not part of this plan. You couldn't for many reasons. One being the most obvious, YOU WERE A GIRL! For starters. You were a girl pretending to a boy, pretending to be your brother. Tara was obviously straight. And if you did show any signs of liking her, it would be misleading. You were a girl.

Tara was straight.

"Wait really? So should I go ask her out?"

"What? No!" Trying to ignore the jealousy you felt coursing through your body. "You don't want to freak her out."

"Ugh I hate the waiting game. I've been waiting for the past years. Since 6th grade. That’s five whole years. You have no idea how long I've wanted to, to date her. She's the hottest girl in the school."

You narrowed your eyebrows at your roommate. You won't deny that Chad is a great soccer player. He was outstanding on the field. And he was nice enough to help you out to make first string. But other than that you weren't really sure why he was so eager to be with someone who clearly didn't like him back.

*

"Wait what do you mean? You think he doesn't like you?"

Tara groaned into her pillow. As much as she enjoyed being with the taller soccer player. She couldn't ignore the small little voice in her head telling her that Anthony didn't like her back.

"I don't know Amber. He's not like any other boy I've ever met before. He hasn't even flirted with me. Not even once!" She chose to ignore the laugh coming from her best friend.

"What? There's no way. Every guy here has flirted with you at least once." Amber has watched for the past days how this guy had her best friend hooked with just his presence. She won't deny the guy was kinda good looking. But there was something about Anthony that was making her sexually confused? Amber was a proud lesbian. There was no denying that, but she had gone soooo long without finding any boy attractive. Not even when she was little. But now Anthony Y/Ln was a first. Now she didn't like him in that way like Tara did. But there was something about him that was familiar. She just couldn't seem to know what.

"Wait really?" Come to think about it, Amber has not seen Anthony flirt with any girl at all. Every time she saw him he it was always either during class (which he did really pay attention to) and then during the soccer practices. "Wait you don't think he's gay do you?"

That thought had never even crossed her mind. The thought of Anthony being gay had her sitting up straight to face Amber.

"What? No! There's no way-I mean, I don't know. Oh my god let it be me to fall for a guy who could possibly be gay." She groaned even louder as she covered her face with her hands. If Anthony was gay, she would have to move on. Or she could just ask. He did have those two girls at the pizza parlor. Not to mention that crazy ex. But if that were the case. Maybe he's bisexual. Or just now gave up on the girls and just wants boys now.

Ugh. It was just her luck.

*

"What's up Anthony."

You looked away from your open book. You had finally gotten away from Chad and his friends. A moment of peace away from those boys was what you desperately needed. They were rowdy and fun but you could only take so much before you wanted to pull your hair out.

"Sup Amber. How's it going?" Amber was Tara's best friend. You liked Amber. She was always putting Chad in his place when he tried to flirt with Tara. It was always a funny sight.

"Eh it's going but I gotta ask you something." She moved to sit next to Anthony.

You closed your book and looked at the shorter girl. "Sure what's up." You moved to grab your water bottle to take sip.

"Are you gay?"

The water burned as it went up your nose, you spluttered out wet coughs as you tried get your breathing back to normal. You took the napkins Amber offered you. "Jesus Amber. No I am not gay." Well you were. And as funny as it would be for these students to believe your brother Anthony was gay, you weren’t that mean of a sister.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" Amber did not feel convinced for the weirdest reason. She just couldn't put a finger on it.

"No not even a little bit. Why?" You let out a chuckle once you had your breathing under control and you were no longer chocking. Gay?

"Well can you blame a girl for asking." So he wasn't gay, Tara did have a chance. Amber couldn't help but to feel excitement. Mingling is something she was great at.

*

You hated being here, carnivals. Absolutely hated them. Clowns were literally your worst nightmare and those things were everywhere. Not only did you hate clowns. But you absolutely hated that you had to change from being you to your brother. So you opted to just staying as you for the remainder of the day.

"Wait they thought Anthony was gay?" Anika asked again once she was finished laughing.

"Anthony gay? Girl he is as straight as they come." Quinn laughed as well, the girls along with Kirby had arrived at carnival before you did. You mom had called the moment you arrived and said you were signed up for the kissing booth. Part of you had never felt so offended and angry. You were not going to be kissing no strangers. No matter the cause before hanging up.

"Any cute girls there?" Kirby nudged your shoulder as you walked around. Noticing the blush on her younger friend. "Oh so there is. What's her name?"

"Stop. There's no-Liar! Come on. Tell us." Your two best friend nudged and pleaded to know. You rolled your eyes although you were smiling.

"There is on-" You were cut off by someone bumping into your body. You were able to catch them before they fell. "Oh I'm sorry."

At the sound of the voice, the voice that sounded awfully familiar! Tara furrowed her eyebrows before looking up at the person. Only for her eyes to widen in shock. The girl standing in front of her looked exactly like Anthony. Almost like a spitting image. "Do I know you?" She couldn't help up to ask.

"Uh no. I don't think so. Sorry." You moved to walk around Tara. As much as you wanted to talk to her as you and not Anthony. You couldn't, not without blowing your cover. You were quick (but not too quick to make it weird) away.

Kirby and the girls were quick to follow you. Noticing Anika sharing a long stare with one of the girls. "Oh my god was that her!" Speaking once she was far away from the short girl.

"Would you shut up, and yes that's her." Your cheeks flushing at the teasing grins that were looking your way.

"Dude she's cute!" Quinn shook your shoulders in pure excitement.

"You should totally try to get w-No, she's straight. And I don't know if you know this but I'm a girl." You shook her head, continuing your walk only to see Chad and Frankie fighting. You were quick to run to the scuffle. Trying your best to pull the two dude's away from each other.

"Frankie stop!"

Chad turned around at the voice, opening his mouth to say something he had been momentarily distracted enough for Frankie to hit him. Making Chad stumble into you. You caught him right when the security showed up. Quinn and Anika pulling you away before you could get in trouble.

"Hey are you okay?"

You were standing to the side, after being yelled at by your mom. It wasn't even your fault but you let her yell at you. The girls had gone to get food while you waited. The sound of Tara's voice you looked towards her. She offering such cute shy smile.

"Uh yea I'm okay. Thanks for asking." You murmured, you weren't sure why you felt so shy now. Maybe it because you weren't sure if Tara would like you as Y/n and not as Anthony.

"Are you related to Anthony Y/Ln by any chance?"

"Yea he's my twin brother."

"Wow you guys are crazy alike. It's almost uncanny. How do you know Chad?" Tara couldn't get over how you looked so much like Anthony. Ever since she bumped into you earlier that day. She couldn't stop thinking about you and Anthony. She had always been comfortable with her sexuality. She had always said she was bisexual. And right now was a good example why. Anthony. He was so charming, so sweet and just so funny. Honest. You. You were honestly the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Yea we get that a lot. I'm Y/n." Sticking out your hand for her to shake.

"Tara." Tara took your out stretched hand. Your hand taking hers in a gente but soft shake. She looked down at your hand, it was awfully the same as Anthony. Down to the same softness that she has grown to like.

"Damn that guy who beat up Frankie was kinda hot, wasn't that your brothers roommate." Quinn asked as she wrapped her arms around yours, interrupting whatever was happening between you and the short girl. From the corner of her she was able to see the same girl that had bumped into you looking right at you. Maybe that girl wasn't as straight as she seemed. "Hi I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you. I should go back to my friends. It was nice meeting you Y/n." She couldn't stop looking at you, she hoped that it wouldn't be the last time she saw you. A past of her also feeling a bit of disappointment seeing the red head being so close to you.

*

"Dude, what? What's on your face." You spluttered with your words at seeing the tampon up Chad's nose. Part of you wanted to laugh.

"Oh this? Yeah I grabbed one of your." He pointed to the tampon as he got up. "And they actually work." He took the bloody tampon out and threw it away.

"Dude what happened?"

"Well turns out the dude I fought was your sister's ex. And man she looks just like you. It's kinda scary. I mean I have a twin but we don't look that alike. She's kinda hot. Is she single?"

"Eh we get that all the time. And yea she is but she's gay."

Chad's shoulder visibly deflated. "Damn."

"I thought you liked Tara?" You narrowed your eyes slightly. Hoping it wasn't noticeable.

"I do. But I can admire another woman. And your sister is hot. Can't believe she dated a douche bag like Frankie." He didn't even do anything to the guy and Frankie had just lost his cool. And Chad wasn't one to back down.

"Yea, everyone gots at least one person they regret dating." You laid on your bed. Remembering how Tara finally met you as your true self.

*

"Hi Anthony." You looked away from your homework to see Tara sitting down in front of you. You were once again in the library.

"Hey Tara. How was the carnival yesterday?" You closed your book, focusing on the way Tara was looking at you. She had the same look of when she was studying something. In this case she was studying you. Which was making you quite nervous. "You okay tar?"

Seeming to be snapped back to reality. Tara nodded, "Yea sorry. It was fun. Why weren't you there?"

Shrugging in response, "Crazy ex showed up and wouldn't leave me alone so I just ended up leaving."

"Mmh, I didn't know you were a twin." Tara couldn't get over how much Anthony and his sister looked alike. It was truly uncanny. It was like she was looking at a man version of the girl she saw at the carnival.

"Oh you met Y/n? How was that?" You wanted to know what she thought of you.

"She was sweet. We didn't talk long, her girlfriend showed up."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yea this pretty red head."

You let out a laugh. She thought you were dating Quinn. You love Quinn she was one of your best friends. "Oh you mean Quinn. No that's just my sisters best friend."

Having a weird sense of relief, she wasn't even sure why. She had just met you. Why did she feel jealous. She had no reason to feel this type of jealousy. "Oh. They just seemed close."

"They've been friends since they were in diapers. They've just had a close bond since like forever."

"That's sweet..Wait didn't you kiss the red head?!" The memory had been shoved right to the front of her brain.

"Oh...yea. Uh.." Think faster!! "That was more of a friendly kiss? Quinn was just trying to help me break up with my girlfriend at the time. Sherrie was-is crazy. She was also kinda of a bitch to Y/n."

At the mention of that girl being mean to Y/n. It had her feeling, protective? You had looked so nice. Your soft y/ec eyes held some type of warmth. She wanted nothing more than to talk to you again.

*

"Y/LN!" You jumped up from the leg press machine. You had been working out with Chad for the past hour. The game against your school was less than a week away. And you have been training hard. The practices have been a lot more easier now that you knew how to play like a man. Chad had been a great help.

"Yes coach?"

A jersey being thrown at you. You looked down at the jersey. Your last name stitched on the back of the jersey along with a big number name below it. You felt your eyes widen in shock and excitement.

"You're first string for the rivalry game."

"Really?"

"No I was joking, you idiot." Coach Loomis said sarcastically before walking away.

You couldn't contain your excitement. Jumping up and down. "Yes!" Chad laughed as he shook his head.

"Congratulations man."

*

"Oh I know. Ask out Chad, like in a friend date. But don't let him know that, do it in front of Anthony. See how he reacts." Amber looked at Chad and Anthony from across the gym.

"But I don't like Chad."

"Which is why it will be a friend date. But you'll tell him that on the date."

Tara debated the plan. She really liked Anthony. His personality, his attitude, the way he was around her. It was so refreshing. So pure.

"Okay."

*

You couldn't stop smiling. All your hard work was finally paying off. Your point that you were trying to make was almost done. Wanting finish your workout before calling the girls.

"Hey Chad."

You both looked up to see Tara in all her glory standing there. Looking at Chad.

"Tara! Hi."

You could tell that he was nervous. With a quick look from Tara. You sent her an awkward thin lipped smile. Hoping Tara couldn't tell how jealous and dejected as you seemed.

"How about we go out on Friday."

But she did. She could see how the happy glint in his eyes faded as soon as she mentioned the date. She watched as Anthony turned around fiddling with his phone.

"Really?! I uh mean. Cool. Yea cool I'll see you Friday."

*

You hated yourself for feeling so jealous. You hated it. You had no right to feel jealous. Tara was straight and clearly giving Chad a chance. You had to focus on the bigger picture. So you tired to do that.

Staying late at the gym before the big game tomorrow. You didn't know how long you were until you saw the time. Figuring you needed some good nights rest before the game tomorrow. With a quick shower, you made your way back to your dorm room.

You had expected for Chad to be home so quickly. You were sure he would still be out with Tara.

"So are you gonna tell me the truth?"

The truth? You looked at Chad wide eyed. Did he know that you weren't a boy. You were sure you had been good at hiding your true self. Maybe your wig had fallen off while you were sleeping.

"Uh truth?"

"Yes the fucking truth."

He seemed angry, well you assumed he had a right to. Maybe he felt a little weirded out that girl has been rooming with him for a while.

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth. But just know that I did this cause I had to prove something. I've always loved soccer and-What so you use me to get better at soccer and then what steal my girl."

You were confused now. What on earth was Chad talking about? "Wait what? What are you talking about?"

"Dude stop lying I saw you!" Chad knew he may have been overacting. First he was a bit mad and disappointed that the date hadn't gone as he had hoped. The date had been so awkward and he had just felt so uncomfortable, and top off the date Tara had told him she didn't like him in that way. When he had seen Anthony, his so called friend kissing Tara. He had felt so betrayed and extremely jealous.

"Saw me do what?"

With his anger at an all time high. He had pushed Anthony out of the room without any further explanation. Slamming the door in Anthony's face.

"What the fuck?" You were left confused. With no where else to sleep you walked away towards the library. Hoping that it was open.

*

"Yo Anthony! What are you doing here?!" Jumping up from the chairs you had pushed together in a form of makeshift bed. "The game is about to start."

This had you almost tripping over your own two feet as you ran out of the library towards the boys locker room. Confusion taking over as you saw your uniform was gone. Fumbling with your phone hoping to find some answers.

Tony: thanks for unpacking my things and making my room. You're the best sis

Tony: why did you sneak tampons in my drawer. Jerk

"Fuck."

**

You could only watch from the safety of hiding under the bleachers as your brother destroyed all your hard work. He truly was a horrible athlete. It was like watching a baby trying to walk. If anything a baby could probably play better.

Sighing in relief as the whistle blew out signaling the ending of the first half. Watching as the coach Loomis spoke to your brother. Banging your head on the metal. Your brother walked past the bleachers and you took this opportunity to yank him under the bleachers.

"What the fu-Y/n?"

"Dude what the hell are you doing?" You punched his arm, he was supposed to give you a heads up before coming back.

"Ow! Me? Why are you dressed like me?"

"Ugh I was trying to prove to our old school that a girl could be just as good as any boy on the damn team. Can you believe they cut the girls soccer team and not the boys?"

"Wait what? But the girls team win more games?" He knew how much you love the game. There was never a game he would miss when you played.

"Wait, what are you even doing here?"

"Oh!" Remembering what had happened last night. "There was this girl. She kissed me. And even though it was only a second cause when she pulled away from me and looked at me like I was stranger. But I came to look for her cause she was hot."

"That's what Chad was talking about." You mumbled to yourself. "Give me back my uniform. And stay hidden.”

*

“Wait what do you mean you kissed him?” Amber asked as she looked away from the game. Half time had just started and it looked like Anthony was being given another chance. She had never seen someone play so horribly. It was almost laughable.

“Yea I did.”

“Then why do you sound disappointed? Shouldn’t you be happy, you have been crushing on the guy for a while now.” She looked back at the match. The second half time hasn’t started yet.

“I don’t know. I felt nothing. He usually makes me feel so much but last night, it felt weird like I was kissing a stranger. His lips weren’t as soft as they looked.” She didn’t really remember seeing his lips last night. But she remembered seeing those lips everyday. They had always looked so soft so kissable. The lips she kissed last night were not soft.

“Well I’ve seen him practice and he looked great during practice. The way he was playing in the first half, it might as well have been a stranger.” Mindy spoke up from her spot. There was no way Anthony was playing like newbie when he had trained so hard to make first string.

Quinn, Kirby and Anika shared a look. They were sitting behind the three girls. Maybe the short girl wasn’t as straight as they had assumed.

*

The second half was going a whole lot better than the first half. With you scoring the first goal with the help of Ethan. The stadium bursting out in cheers. The score now being 1-0.

You could still fell the hostility coming from Chad. He refused to look at you, going as far as to not even passing you the ball. This caused him to lose the ball. Leading your old school to score. Tying the game.

“Dude come on I know you’re mad but let’s put that aside for the next forty minutes.” You made the mistake of placing your hand on his shoulder. This caused him to push you away.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Chad come on-” you were pushed again before Ethan and Wes held him back.

“Do you two little princesses have to step off or something?” Hearing your ex’s voice was not what you needed. Hearing his obnoxious laughter along with his teammates was almost ruining the happiness you felt. “Do you ne—Y/n?!”

You didn’t want to look at him. Cause now you were for sure made. The dream you had of proving yourself was burning down. With a heavy sigh you turned around. Seeing Frankie’s eyes widen in shock. Knowing the act was over. You took off your wig. Hearing gasps from literally everyone.

“You’re a girl?!” Chad asked no longer angry. He couldn’t believe he just physically pushed a girl. And his push hadn’t been gentle.

“Yea sorry about the lying, I had a point to prove.” You moved your gaze towards your coach. He had his arms crossed.

Hearing the laughter coming from Frankie and his teammates, even his coach had laughed. “You can’t play with a girl. It says in the rule book.” The coach said smugly. This was when coach Loomis stepped up. Taking the book from the other coach.

“What rule book? Here in Woodboro we don’t discriminate. Based on gender.” Coach pointed his finger at the other coach’s chest. And you knew it hurt based on how the other coach stumbled back and how rubbed the spot.

“Alright then. You think you can beat us with a girl on your team. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

With a wink being shot your way by Coach Loomis you smiled excitedly. You couldn’t believe he was going to let you play. You quickly put your hair up in a ponytail so it wouldn’t be in your face. You were now more confident more comfortable.

*

Winning the game had been everything and more. The way Frankie had run off crying was so funny, extremely hilarious actually. You had been told off by your parents like you had expected but you could tell they were proud. Especially your dad.

You also watched as Chad was being down talked by your brother. Probably telling Chad off for pushing you earlier.

“All this time you were Y/n?” You turned around to see Tara standing there. She had not looked mad or anything. It was more a of curiosity.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know it was misleading and wrong. For that I’m sorry.” You fiddled with your fingers. Upon hearing laugh you looked up towards her. Her smile brighter than before.

“Are you kidding? If anything I need glasses. Cause wow. Also sorry for kissing yesterday. Kinda thought you were her.” Anthony walked back to his sister and the hot girl, although a bit dejected he was happy you were happy. He had never seen you so happy yet nervous at the same time. By the way Tara was looking at you. He knew she felt the same way. With a dismissive wave he smiled and walked away.

“So? You’re not mad?”

With a shake of her head, she took your hand in hers. “A little bit, but that’s because I was so sexually confused, then you came along and I’ve never been so confused. Now I’m just hoping you feel the same.”

With the smile of your own you grinned back. “I’ve never felt so sure Ms.President.”

With a giggle of her own she wrapped her arms around your neck and brought you down for a long awaited kiss. Now these lips were soft. These were the lips she had been dreaming about. The feeling that had been absent were now there and going crazy. Just like she had wanted.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!!” Amber yelled. There had been no way she found a boy attractive. Especially since she had the biggest crush on her best friends sister. But that wasn’t relevant.

:)

[ashipiko]

—ATLAN TREIN

All information on Atlan Trein ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: February 12th

Height: 179cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: None

Favorite Subject: Music

Best Subject: History of Magic

Likes: Making friends

Dislikes: Being called “Mommy’s Boy”

Favorite Food: Bread

Least Favorite Food: Pumpkin

Speciality: Getting people interested in drama

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

CALLING HOME…

— Pomefiore Dorms - Atlan’s Room —

[VOICEMAIL BEGIN]

…Moooom, I know it’s kind of late, so I’m sending in a voicemail, but— You can listen to this in the morning while you get ready, right?

I know it’s only the first day of this school year but please, can you just give me permission to go home or something?!

I don’t wanna be here anymore! Just take me back home! I’m not learning anything new at this school. Sure, the drama and gossip is kind of interesting, but, ugh, it gets old really fast.

—N-Not that I’m the one spreading it around. Of course not! You could never expect that from your beloved son.

Uncle is already starting to freak me out, though. I swear whenever I looked up from my desk during history, either he or Lucius would be staring straight at me. He didn’t call you before me, right? Don’t tell me he did! I promise, I haven’t done anything—!

Ugh, not to mention, it’s just as hard to provide for myself as last year… I honestly think the lack of roommates is more of a con than anything. It makes it even harder to talk to people, tch.

…Like, I get that you want me to learn how to survive on my own, but seriously…? I don’t think being surrounded by all of these… what’s a word that’s not pleb but similar… Ah. Idiotic peers, is the right way to go about it.

Oh! I almost forgot the most important part about today. At the welcoming ceremony, there was a huge and giant fiasco. Apparently some person not from here crashed the ceremony. And no, not not from here as in Sage’s Island, I mean Twisted Wonderland! Isn’t that crazy? It would be funny if it was through time travel, hahaha!

They seemed quite out of it. Lost for words and confused. I think they even got caught on fire. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I think I even heard house warden Vil critique them!

Ah— Sorry if that was a lot. You take a long while to apply your makeup anyways, right? It’s just that I don’t really have anyone here to talk to about this, and I’m quite bad at small talk, so…

You know.

…Well then. I love you. I hope I see you soon. And consider my request—!

Goodnight.

[VOICEMAIL END]

.

.

.

TRIVIA:

Atlan is twisted off of Anastasia from Cinderella!

Despite this, he isn’t Trein’s son. He’s his nephew. I figured it would be a little funnier this way.

Atlan isn’t exactly liked at NRC. To say the least, his entire personality is that he talks about other people. That’s it. Not in a praising way either— He’ll talk about whatever things he’s heard around. Hence, his ear for gossip.

His tie to Yuu would most likely stem from Yuu hearing that someone had been talking about them in a gossipy way, and therefore finding out who it was (because Yuu protection squad is a very real and scary thing). Either that or tracking him down because they think he might have information.

Atlan’s reasoning behind all his talk being rumors and topics about other people is because he’s not very good at socializing himself. He grew up a little sheltered with a bratty older sister who he’d always fight with. Lots of screaming and the such. Both of the siblings ended up being a little spoiled, and with some unbearable personalities, resulting in people not really wanting to become their friends.

The rest of his family didn’t seem to mind the fact that they weren’t as liked as others, but Atlan always sort of wanted to find out a way to reach out. To have friends and see what the normal person’s life would be. However, due to the lack of support, every time he attempted to reach for his goal, it would end up in failure. Nobody to correct his behavior, and nobody who would try to help him understand himself.

His mother, noticing this behavior of his, decided that the best course of action would to be to send him off by himself to a school filled to the brim with other people his age, who he could learn to interact with— Night Raven College.

But you would guess, something like that doesn’t go well for a boy who depended on his mother and her money for comfort.

Like a fish on land, Atlan tries his best to be open and talk to people, but upon becoming independent, he realizes that he doesn’t really have much going for him. And as people got to know him, he felt as if they were right— He’s nothing but a person who trash talks people and brags about his money.

He cracks under pressure easily when the atmosphere is awkward, and has no idea how to go about small talk. Atlan isn’t the best person to tell your secrets to, as he’ll probably end up using it as a conversation starter.

Atlan has an oresama air to him, but he really just wants to be part of the crowd rather than someone alienated for something he doesn’t know how to navigate. Maybe one day he’ll find the right crowd to surround himself with. A helping hand to guide him. But for now, he’s stuck, enrolled in NRC under his mother’s word.

More to be added!

[farfaras]

Part 1.

Maybe if Steve acts casual Robin won’t even notice. She barely pays attention to him when she’s too busy rambling about her love life. Or lack there of. If Steve’s lucky, today is gonna be one of those days.

But Steve’s good luck probably ended the first time he took a look at a demogorgon.

“What is that?” Robin giggled. If she finds this amusing wait until she hears what actually happened.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That only worked when I thought you were an actual idiot.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Steve put on his family video vest and clocked in.

“What? I notice things!” Robin exclaimed when Steve made his way to the counter.

“Yeah, when you’re not too busy daydreaming about Vickie.”

“You’re changing the subject!”

“Objection!”

“Stop it!”

Steve sighed. How could you explain your friend sucked your neck to make your another friend jealous when you don’t even like said friend? Tricky.

Ugh. Robin was gonna make fun of him.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Steve tried. It was a last resort to save himself from the embarrassment.

“Yeah, because I’ve never experienced anything out of the ordinary.” She raised an eyebrow. Steve knew she wouldn’t let it go. “When did you even go on a date, dingus? I don’t remember you telling me about it.”

“I didn’t go on a date.”

“Well then who did that?” She narrowed her eyes. “Ew! Are you in a friends with benefits situation?” She look scandalized and curious at the same time. “Because honestly Steve, I don’t think that’s your thing. I mean even if you try, it wouldn’t work out. You’re like an actual romantic. Wanting a serious relationship, yearning connection and all that shit. It would be cute if you weren’t kinda desperate sometimes.” Okay he had to cut her off if he wanted to keep his ego unbruised.

“Jesus! Okay! You don’t have to say it like I’m some loser who can’t get a girlfriend!” If he needed humbling he knew who to call now though.

“But you kind of are.”

“Do you want to know or not?” Even if he was embarrassed about the whole thing, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hoping Robin would give him some insight. Once she stopped making fun of him. “It was Eddie.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and… excitement? “Holy shit! It finally happened?” What is she talking about now? “I thought I would actually have to wait another year at least for you guys to figure it out.” There’s nothing that makes Steve feel more inadequate than when he doesn’t get what people are talking about. “I mean anyone who’s got eyes could see how much you two liked each other and it’s cute but I was getting tired of the pining..” she trailed off when she saw how silent Steve was. “Why aren’t you as excited as me?”

Pining? Like each other? Did Robin think..? Did Eddie?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He questioned. His mind was going through every interaction him and Eddie once had. Trying to analyze his own behavior to come up with an explanation as to why someone would think he likes Eddie.

“Oh god. I thought. Did you guys not like… get together?” She was hesitant. It felt like she was trying not to scare a wild animal.

“No.”

“I gotta stop running my mouth like that. I’m sorry.” She looked mortified and it would be funny if this was another situation. “But what? Why would he do that? I’m so lost here, Steve.”

Steve went through backstory first, then he started retelling the events of the other day. Including how he actually enjoyed himself a little. He might as well be a hundred percent transparent, she was his best friend after all.

“Robin, say something.” His best friend being silent was not something he was used to.

“I’m so confused.” She said.

“Me too.” His confusion was starting to fade. The answer right in front of his face.

“So you’re… not together? Even after that?”

“I don’t even like him like that!”

“But you said you liked it!”

“Who wouldn’t!”

“I wouldn’t! Steve, a boy giving me hickeys is one of my worst nightmares.” He knew that. He knew it meant something that he liked it. The question is if he’s ready to face what it means.

“I- I know, okay?”

“Steve, say the word and we’ll stop talking about this.” He loves his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her.

“No. I think I’m ready.” Steve muttered. Robin smiled gently at him and that was all the encouragement he needed to feel safe enough to say it out loud.

“I like him.”

They hugged.

-

“It kinda sucks that he doesn’t like me back though.”

Robin thunked her head on the counter.

[cameronspecial]

What if Drew meets the actress!reader' parents and older brother at a family dinner, he would be graciously greeted by their kindness of her family, especially her mother who seems to have a little crush on him. Her father will tell all the funny anecdotes of his childhood and her brother who teases them about marriage of them 😏😅 It's rather embarrassing for her but it's a good night for Drew

Plz can u doing that !?

The Embarrassing Meet

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Actress!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

Y/N has brought home boyfriends since she got famous. Other Actors. Authors. Musicians. Even sons of famous people. However, she hasn’t been as nervous about bringing them home as she was about bringing Drew home. She is incredibly in love with him and family meetings always seem to chase her boyfriends away. Not only are they embarrassing for her, but they also make her boyfriends realize that her home life is not as glamorous as they want it to be. Drew holds the passenger’s side door open for her. She smiles at him, dropping it once she sees her family at the open front door already. “Oh my goodness, look how handsome he is. And he is tall too. He could get all the stuff on the high shelves for us and we could have tall grandchildren, Jeremy,” her mother gushes. The older Y/L/N woman comes running to hug the new arrivals. Drew is more than happy to receive it while Y/N crosses her arms at her mom. “We literally just got here, Mom. Do you have to lay it on so thick?” she asks. Drew smiles at Emily, “It’s okay, Y/N/N. I’m honestly flattered that I’m already making a good impression and I would love to grab anything you need, Mrs. Y/L/N.” Emily’s face warms up and she hits Drew’s bicep playfully. “Please, call me Emily. We have a shelf that needs hanging if you are okay with being put to work,” her mom offers. “I would be more than glad to help out with that.”

———

Drew and Jeremy stand in front of the wall. The shorter of the two reaches up high with his hands to approximate how high they want the shelf. Y/N sits on the sofa with her mother while her brother makes dinner, watching the two men do the work. Her father tries to lift the heavy shelf they are going to put up, but he freezes and holds his hand to his lower back. Drew holds a hand out to the older man and takes the slab of wood from him. “I’ve got it, Jeremy. I see the nice woodwork you have on the other shelves. Is that what this shelf is for?” Drew questions, using the pencil to mark where he needs to put the screws. Jeremy beams and picks up one of his pieces. He shows drew the wooden duck, “Yes. I’ve been doing it since I was in high school. My best subject was wood shop. I made this duck for Y/N/N when she was little. She would refuse to take a bath unless it was beside her. If it wasn’t near the tub near bath time, then she would run around the house naked looking for it.” “Ugh, Dad! Do you have to tell that story? It’s so awkward,” Y/N complains, burying her head in a pillow. Drew chuckles and takes the duck into his hand, “What are you talking about? I think it’s an adorable story. Might have to make you another duck if it that’s how you react without one. Plus, I would love to spend more time with your dad while he teaches me.” Drew’s laughter increases as he catches the pillow that is whipped at his head.

———

Jeremy and Emily stay at the front door to wave the couple off whilst Gideon follows his sister and Drew to the car. He leans against the open car window to formally say goodbye. “Okay, so I expect a wedding invitation within a year. You got me, Starkey? You are too good for this family to let go of,” Gideon orders with a finger pointed at the male in the driver’s seat. Drew glances at Y/N with a grin before looking at Gideon, “I got you. I would be crazy to let your sister go.” Gideon slaps the car door in satisfaction. “Good. I knew I liked you for a reason. Okay, bye you two. Drive safe.” He straightens up with a wave and steps back so Drew can drive off. Y/N sinks lower into the seat at the sound of her family very loudly wishing them goodbye one more time from outside of her car. “I hated that so much. I didn’t know I had so many embarrassing childhood stories.” Drew chortles, “What are you talking about? I loved it. I think I made a great impression with my future in-laws. I can’t wait to see them again.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[simpingland]

The punch and the car.// Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

Modern Au! Jacaerys Strong never liked the girl his mother adopted, and made his life's mission to let her know that. But years past and reader can't handle that much hate from someone as intense as him. Baela and Rhaena have an idea.

TW: smut and angst a bit of fluff! P in v, masturbation (female receiving), unprotected sex. Someone gets a punch.

-----------------------------------

As you had told her, the din of the overly loud music drilled into your brain. But your friend Rhaena's enthusiasm to see you and Baela out of your routine made up for it all. It was overwhelmingly crowded, but even so, her beautiful white hair made her stand out from the crowd and she ran to give you a hug.

"I can't believe you came, I thought you said yes to shut me up," said the girl with the sweetest smile.

"I never break a promise," Baela replied earnestly. Always with her dignity and honour.

"And I see you have convice our girl as well," she addressed you.

"Well, I'm afraid Baela threatened me if I didn't come..." that was absolutely true.

"That's how I made sure there was someone around who I liked" she justified herself.

You smiled at her, Baela had always been like a big sister to you, protective and loving in her own way. And Rhaena was also one of your favourite people, she knew how to boost your self-esteem and transmit energy. Maybe the party wouldn't be so bad.

"Baela!" someone shouted from afar.

You changed your mind after a second, from now on everything would be bad. The voice belonged to Jacaerys Velaryon, Baela and Rhaena's cousin, a.k.a 'Jace' to friends, which he always reminded you you weren't.

"What are you doing at a party, and out of rugby uniform? I don't think I've seen you in a skirt in years..." he hugged his cousin, smiling with those dimples. Then he saw you. "Oh...and you came too."

"Jacaerys..." you replied. "I'm surprised you saw me, I thought you'd be drunk as a skunk by now."

"I could hear your little voice beeping over the vibrations of the glasses as soon as you came in," he tried to mock.

"The plastic cups you mean?"

He fell silent, sighed and refocused on his cousins.

"I hope you're having a good time, cousin, I've got to go and get the playlist ready. It's my turn to DJ in a bit!"

The twins congratulated him and let him go, Jace gave them flirtatious winks before giving you a sidelong glance, as if he suspected you were going to nudge him at any moment. When he finally disappeared, Rhaena started waving to people and you and Baela decided to go get the first drink of the night.

"'I could hear your little voice beeping over the vibrations', ugh, what a clown..." you grumbled in Baela's ear.

"Oh, no. Don't start." She stopped concentrating on choosing liquor to look at you.

"Start what?"

"Complaining about Jace for anything. It's a tiring subject, both sides."

"He complains about me too?"

"Of course he does. He's always asking about you, like he's waiting to know something so he can complain even about things he hasn't lived through."

"Do you guys talk shit about me during training?"

Baela and Jacaerys were in different years at university and didn't study the same subjects (Baela studied sports, Jace politics and geography), but what they did share was a rugby training routine. Both were great players, and from a young age they had found a strong friendship through sport.

"No, I can mention to him, I don't know, things like we went shopping for panties last week and he finds a way to complain about you, asking me about you and overreacting to everything I tell him."

"Don't tell him about my panties, Baela!"

"It was an example..." lie, you had gone panty shopping, and Baela would most likely have told him about it because she doesn't think much of such things as embarrassing. "The thing is, I've had enough. I'm here today to get drunk and have fun."

She turned her attention back to her drink.

"So...you think I have an annoying voice?"

When she filled her drink twice as much, you took it for granted that her level of irritation had been overcome. You took pity on her and let her dance alone until you saw her stop to dance with a companion of hers. Perhaps the best idea was to walk around, and say hello to everyone you had even the slightest interaction with. And it seemed to work, albeit short greetings, nods or smiles, but no one stopped you to talk. As you sipped your drink, looking around the huge fraternity house, someone came up to your ear.

"Don't you have any friends here?" You were ready to smile at him, but you recognised Jace, though you didn't know whether by his voice or his smell.

"I'm looking for someone, actually," you lied. "You don't have anyone to hang out with to complain about me?"

"I'm afraid no one here cares that much about you."

That hurt. It would have been easy to reemphasize how obsessed Jace seemed to be with you, but it had crossed the fine line where you just wanted to cry because his insistence had made you want to hit him. Maybe it was true, maybe there was no one who cared about you as much. He must have noticed something in your eyes, his twisted smile disappeared, but because Jace couldn't stand to empathise with you, he decided to get angry.

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to be like that," he said.

"I don't even know why I bother to talk to you."

And you disappeared, turning your back on him. If he said anything else, you didn't hear it, the music was drilling into your head so much that you decided to finish your drink in two gulps, trying to numb your brain.

It hadn't always been like this with Jace, you just had trouble remembering the good times because the boy had made things difficult for you from moment one. From a very young age, living in the same house where Rhaenyra had lovingly taken you in, Jace had been a good boy, obedient to do his homework, help his brother Luke, and play with his cousins whenever they visited. But with you he was always different. It went from deep affection, sharing daily activities at home like drawing for hours on the same floor, dressing up and playing in the garden on summer mornings, swinging with each other in the park or enjoying cartoons lying on the sofa. But all that changed so drastically in the last years of school that you only had pictures and videos to remember those moments. When Joffrey was born, Rhaenyra began to count on you as a help around the house, while you put up with Jace pulling your hair when no one was looking, or "accidentally" throwing a ball in your direction. Nothing you said seemed right to him and all your good deeds were an attempt to lick his mother's arse. If Rhaenyra hadn't been there, you probably would have cried every night in your bed, but you held out hope for many years that he would grow up, just as Rhaenyra promised you would happen. Worst of all, you could only scold him so much, because Jace was smart. Sure, he talked back to his parents, he went out between days without warning, stories came home about girls he'd been seen hanging out with and doing things with, and he was a dick to you and didn't hide it. But he also passed all his exams with flying colours, he still had that unconditional affection for Luke, Joffrey and his cousins, he was a sportsman on a par with his mother in his youth, he helped his father Harwin whenever he needed him to fix something around the house, and he knew how to make anyone he came across smile.

Meanwhile, you had always felt like an outsider because of him, because the others had gone out of their way to include you. Harwin was a father to you, he had taught you how to drive and showed up at all your music recitals, no matter how bad they were. And Rhaenyra always told you everything. What was going on in her work, what she was talking about with Harwin, what she had discovered in Jace's drawers, or how happy she was to be promoted in her job. She had taught you how to do your hair and had more than kept her promise to your mother after she left this world. And yet, Jace made you feel like that wasn't enough, and at the same time it made you feel selfish. You couldn't just focus on pleasing one person, you couldn't please everyone. But it was frustrating that no one loved you with such passion but you had someone who apparently hated you with such passion.

All that went away from your head as the alcohol took effect, and you got so hot mixed in with the people dancing. You didn't even notice that it was Jace who had gone up to the DJ booth. That he played good music would be one of the things you could never admit to, and on top of that, he was happy to take requests from the pretty girls who piled up to ask him for tunes. You could stand it for a little while, noticing how the odd person approached you with strange intentions. And all of them you brushed aside, ignoring them almost unwillingly, so much on your own that you gave little thought to whether or not to offend others.

As you carried the cup again, an activity you had done a few times already, Jace played one of those songs that irritated you the most, and of course, there were people who agreed with you and there were many more who cheered Jace's choice. The least you deserved was to ask him for a song. So it was to the mixing desk that you headed, awkwardly, with a full glass and clearly drunk. If you pushed someone it was likely, that you cared about it was out of the question. And Jacaerys found it so strange to see you standing there that he gave you some attention, lending his ear for you to speak to him, mind you, with a scowl.

"Play my song!" you shouted at him.

"Your song?" He looked disgusted, and shook his head when you nodded.

"The one before was shit, play my song!"

"I don't take requests...especially not like the shit you want me to play." But hey, he did know what your shit song was...

"Yo do take requests, asshole, and it's a shame you had to learn a whole profession as a dj to get girls to listen to you,"

"Get the fuck out of here before you puke on the table," he snapped.

"Are you calling me a drunk?"

"Clearly you're not?" he mimicked your tone of voice and the dumb expression you must have had at the time.

"I don't talk like that, enough of--" in your anger, the drink had ended up spilling out of the glass and onto the huge, button-strewn table. Jacaerys turned away, but you, panicking and confused, tried to wipe the alcohol off the table. And then sparks flew, and for an instant you felt that intense burning sensation in your fingers. You felt yourself being pulled within seconds, but you couldn't see who it was because the whole house went out. People were soon protesting, shouting and hissing, but all you could smell was Jace so close, his hands in your arms.

The lanterns lit up the room, though the complaints didn't disperse, and loud footsteps sounded overhead.

"Who destroyed the mixer?" the voice shouted. The lights focused on him, surely more than one was recording. His tense and serious face brought you back to your senses a little. Just a little.

"Aemond, I'm so sorry about the table, it was an accident..." apologised Jace, trying not to look nervous.

"I knew accepting you into the fraternity was a mistake. Do you know how expensive the mixer is?" he approached both menacingly, though he wasn't looking at you.

"We're so sorry..." you interjected.

"Shut up and get the hell out of here," snapped the boy everyone knew as Aemond One Eye, a legend on campus and also Jacaerys' uncle.

"Hey..."

"I'll try to pay you back, okay?" Jace slyly placed you behind him, trying not to feel provoked by Aemond. "I'm telling you, it was an accident."

"You'll pay for it? I can already see you whining to your mother to spoil you again for everything you want. No, not this time, I don't want you to pay for it, I want to make it clear what a cunt you are. I don't want you to come back here anymore."

"It was me who did it-" you were interrupted again.

"I have friends here too, Aemond, don't forget that."

"That's because everyone forgets that you and your brothers are the worst scum they can come across. None of them know your brute of a father."

"Leave my father out of this," Jace was on the verge of fisticuffs.

"You're right, I suppose he's been duped by your slut of a mother--"

Then he took a fist, and everyone stifled a scream, and there was the odd brave one who dared to clap. And no, it was not Jacaerys the puncher. So drunk, angry at the interruptions, and even more provoked by the comment, no one had foreseen the blow you threw at Aemond, nor the strength you had hidden. The fact is that the boy started to bleed from the nose, and that applause had perhaps encouraged you too much.

"What the fuck?" Aemond said to you.

"We told you it was an accident. And it wasn't even Jace, you fucker. It was me...yes! Me! And the only scum I see here is you!"

The whispers and the dreads returned, and now there was no more applause. Jace tried to push you away again.

"Don't mind her, she's drunk," Jace excused you.

"I'm not going to hit a woman," Aemond wiped his nose.

"You better" you said and Jace threw you knives through his eyes.

"How brave, Jace" he then exclaimed in a higher tone. "You need a poor girl to cover your back...pitiful."

He then lowered his voice as people seemed to start talking again, commenting on what they had just seen. Someone was able to turn the light back on, and the cheering returned.

"Both of you get out of here right now. If you don't, I'll make sure no one talks to you for the rest of the college." The blond finally whispered.

As you stepped aside, Baela and Rhaena were already there to find out first hand what had happened, and Rhaena saved you from falling straight to the ground.

"Is she drunk?" She asked Jace.

"Clearly...though she's never been very smart."

"Jace, don't be cruel," Baela urged him.

"She needs to throw up, and I'd rather she do it here than in the car," Rhaena looked at her cousin ruefully, you trying to regain the mobility of your fist. "Give us a hand getting her upstairs...please."

Without a word, Jace was able to hoist you onto his back, with Baela and Rhaena watching to make sure you didn't let go and fall down the stairs.

"I think I cracked my finger," you said slurring your words. You held out your hand to Rhena to show her. "Can you see if I've cracked it?"

"I don't have x-ray vision, honey," she replied.

"You punched it with your other hand," Jace corrected you. Only you laughed, clutching his neck again. He still smelled exaggeratedly good and his hair was there for you to sink your face into. But soon you reached the bathroom.

Rhaena grabbed your hair and it wasn't long before you were puking. Outside the bathroom, Jace avoided Baela's gaze, who knew that Aemond's words must have hurt him. And soon your consciousness came back. You rinsed your mouth and rethought your life choices.

"Did I just punch Aemond Targaryen?" You asked the girl. And she nodded at you, smiling. "I just punched Aemond Targaryen!"

And then you smiled, and a little gasp escaped you, leaning out into the hallway to join Baela and Jacaerys.

"I just punched Aemond Targaryen!"

Though Baela was smiling, it was Jace who wanted to burst your little bubble of happiness.

"What you just did is make a fool of me," he cut you off, his tone serious and low, shifting his gaze from the floor to you.

"Hey...I stood up for you." You were instantly out of any joy.

"I didn't need your help, in fact, what I needed was for you not to be here. It was all your fault."

"Aemond would have used any excuse to insult you in front of everyone, no matter what happened, just like you don't need anything to insult me."

"Don't compare me to Aemond! He hates my mother and everything we have. Instead you..." he paused for a moment, frustrated and waving his hands around, not knowing what to squeeze, "you just need to exist to..."

"To hate me?"

Though he didn't answer, he didn't need to. He turned his eyes away from you, and closed his mouth. And then you were overcome with all the ridicule you had always made, not just today. Whatever had been going through his head about you had always mattered little to you. But now you could understand that it was you, your personality and everything that you would never change that bothered him so much. And that confused you more, because if Jacaerys saw you like that, when he was an admirable person in many ways, did that make you a despicable person?

"I'm going back to the flat" you whispered after a few seconds. You started down the stairs, getting as far away from Jace as possible.

"I'll give you a lift" Baela offered.

"No need, I'll walk..."

"No, I'll take you, I don't feel like being here anymore." She grabbed you by the shoulders and made you stop.

"Are you sure?"

"If my friend doesn't have a good time I'll never have a good time...I hope you feel the same way." She winked at you and you smiled a little. "Go to the car, I have to say goodbye to some colleagues."

She left you the keys and you walked alone to the place where you remembered getting off. And opening the door, the warmth of the car comforted you and although you thought you would be grateful for the silence, it brought back the bad memories and your head was spinning again. It took you a while to realise that Baela was taking a long time, but you refused to go back into that house.

Biting your nails in the dark, with a few stealthy tears falling, you half lay down in the back seat, because you always got dizzy in front, as all your friends knew. And when someone opened the door, you were instantly glad to think it was Baela, but it wasn't. The smell was different, and though it was a smell you loved, the presence made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Jacaerys sat in the back seat in awkward silence, and slammed the door shut. He didn't make you step aside, for he shrank back in his seat and turned on the car's light. And even then, he didn't look at you.

"Where's Baela?"

"Inside."

"And... And why are you out?"

"I'm not technically out of a place if I'm inside a car." He replied in a pedantic tone. To that you said nothing, just let out a snort, giving up. "Rhaena told me you'd be here."

You stood silent waiting for him to develop, but he struggled, shaking his leg, making you incredibly nervous.

"If you're going to be like this you might as well have stayed outside. In the open air if you wish me to be more specific..."

With a look of disgust, he opened the door and walked out. And you felt a little silly because the light made you look a little ridiculous in that posture, waiting for someone who wasn't coming and having blown the only chance you had to make amends with Jacaerys. And you watched from the window as he paced back and forth, his coat pulled tight and trying to cheat the cold. You enjoyed watching him for a while, and it wasn't long before he gave up. When he tried to go back inside, you quickly got into his seat, not letting him sit down.

"It must be minus twenty degrees in here, let me in," he demanded.

"You're too much sometimes."

"Please, my nipples are going to turn blue!"

At your hesitation, Jace decided to have his way, sitting down roughly and causing you to pull away. Locked in the car again, Jace took a breath, and finally spoke.

"I don't hate you!" Though from his tone it didn't sound like it. "But it's as simple as that every time I've run into you, you've managed to overshadow everything."

"Jacaerys, we've lived our whole lives together. It's natural for you to hate me--"

"But thats what I'm telling you, that I don't hate you, and that's what irritates me the most. You've been the apple of my mother's eye ever since you were adopted. Her only daughter, while I, the one already there, the eldest, the first-born and the supposed to be the dearest, have always remained in your shadow."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't, you'll never know what it's like to have everyone telling you how great you are while I choke on trying to make someone proud of me. You smile and you have it all."

"I don't know? Listen to yourself, Jacaerys, it's you who only has to smile to get what you want. You're a taciturn, stubborn and rather obtuse about a lot of things and everyone lets you slide because you're the favourite, the handsome, sporty one of the brothers and you get good grades even though no one's ever seen you study." Your raised voice made his eyes widen quite a bit, that or maybe you were moving dangerously towards him.

"I study at night!" he justified himself.

"I know, your mother always thought it was the hours you masturbated but I've always known you studied because you get anxiety about not answering an exam!"

"And you know everything because you are a know-it-all and everyone tells you everything because they want to be your friend!"

"Then why don't you?" That sounded a lot more desperate than you thought it would.

"Because I want to feel like a real leader for once in my life, I want to feel independent and you've never stopped trying to match me. You haven't even let me fight with someone who has insulted me, not you!"

"And you needed to ostracise me for years and remind me how lonely I am to get me to leave you alone?"

Then you stepped back, and the dim light let the two of you watch each other carefully. Your tears had long since passed, but Jacaerys seemed to have them on the verge of coming. And then you felt sorry.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

You said it unwillingly at the same time. Silence returned, and your gazes parted, though you couldn't help but glance sideways at him.

"The worst thing about all this..." he started to say, "is that I like the song you wanted to play too. But I didn't want to play it because it makes a lot of sense that people would have loved it and the wanted to be friends with you, you're someone...quite unforgettable."

"Well, you didn't need to learn the whole DJ thing to get girls' attention." That made him smile a little.

"Luke's not going to believe you called me 'the handsome one of the brothers'," he joked.

"Oh, that's all you got? Now I feel stupid. I'm going to go get Baela," you moved to open the car door, but again, Jace's hands picked you up, pulling you back towards him.

"I know I'm taciturn, stubborn and obtuse, but you know I'm more than that..." he then rested his hands on yours, checking those small burns that had been left over from the accident.

"Of course I know that, Jacaerys..." then you realised how close you were to his face. His greenish eyes were now completely black, and never before had you felt as seen by him as you did at that moment.

"Your fingers must be burning..." he put one of your hands to his lips.

"And you must still be a little cold."

Without quite knowing what was going on, the alcohol reminded you that you were indeed much looser than you were used to, so when Jace kissed your fingers slowly, you couldn't help but caress his lips, which went from cold to incredibly tempting.

As soon as you pulled your hand away, Jace launched himself at your lips, and first it was a strange, slow kiss, soft and silky. Jace smelled so good...and kissed so well...it didn't end there. He pulled you on top of him and continued kissing you, the passion increasing with each kiss. As your tongue entered, your hand moved down to Jace's chest and you felt it grow so close to your own sex. And the music coming from the party so far away seemed to increase in your mind, the movements of the car getting faster and faster.

When you undressed is something you'll never know, but you do remember undressing Jace with that stupid car light on. You were no virgin, but Jace felt so new, and the readjustment he gave you made you feel that instant electricity. And it was you moving up and down, with Jace trying to capture your lips, even though it had been feeling so good for a while that he could barely do anything but moan softly. He knew how to move his hands and his sweat made him look a thousand times more handsome than you'd ever seen him.

"I'm going to cum," he warned you. "Fuck, even for this you're the best..."

"Don't exaggerate," though it brought a smile to your face and red to your cheeks. It didn't take you long to feel that explosion as Jace closed his eyes and caught his breath.

Dismounting from him, the tender kiss that followed surprised you, and you could feel a smile on his lips. You hadn't cum, but the experience had been worth it, though you didn't think about the consequences at the time. Then Jacaerys brought his hand to where you wanted it most, and a moan escaped you in that supposedly high-pitched voice that didn't seem to bother Jace so much now.

"Tell me how you like to be touched," he whispered softly. And you put your hand with his to change the rhythm.

"I like it like this" you replied, his fingers were still a little cold and that made it all the better. You were concentrating but when you opened your eyes your enjoyment increased. Jace's face was pressed to yours, and he kept his eyes on you as he moved his hand without even penetrating you. He looked into your eyes, or he looked at your lips, but he was full of affection for you, for the first time it was only and completely for you.

Then that tingling feeling ran through you from your stomach to each of your fingers and toes, and Jacaerys delighted in seeing you with the favour returned.

And it all ended with another kiss, lacking tongue or eagerness, but full of tenderness that made you forget every single bad thing that had ever happened.

"Your mouth tastes like good weed liquor," he confessed as you got dressed again, his dimples peeking out.

"And yours tastes like rum-cola."

"Clearly I win this one."

Laughing and blushing, you nodded. And before you kissed him again, Baela and Rhaena's voices began to grow closer. And the two of you parted as if it were routine as the car doors opened and closed.

"I'm sorry for the lock-up," apologised Baela. "I hope it's all right."

"It is...it is," you responded.

Jace opened the window, trying to disperse the smell a little, and his attempt at being sneaky was a little too funny to you.

"I'm glad...something smells funny though..."

"Did you know that cars are cleaned on the inside too, Baela?" The twin teased.

The two engaged in an absurd argument that was amusing, but your eyes and mind focused on Jace as he placed his hand gently on your leg, and then turned his palm over to offer it to you. And you took it silently, interlacing your fingers and letting them rest in your lap.

You had cried about Jacaerys, you had executed an act of violence in defence of Jacaerys, you had left Jacaerys in the cold. You had made love with Jacaerys...now you could understand why wars were difficult. What a weirdly victorious night that was.

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls 14 part 2/2

Masterpost 

Danny had kind of ignored the most important part of that initial message. Crud. Of course the poor bastard wanted to know about the progress on their spiritual separation. Danny cringed. He typed fast to send a new message before Jason could ask again.

It did not come out easily. He wrote and deleted two drafts before he groaned aloud. “I am not prepared to tell him that the options so far are either to marry and divorce me or to get his ass banished from the ghost dimension.” Danny spent a moment pitying himself. “I just have to say the truth.”

Cringe. Cringe so hard. 

I have two possible solutions but they both suck really hard. :/ Suck so hard you’d be shook. The suckage would change your life.

Jason sent back ellipses. It belatedly occurred to Danny that it might have looked like he was making a blowjob joke. He put the phone back on his chest and stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering why he was this way.

“Jason didn’t see that,” Danny told himself. “Jason is a professional. A professional something. I don't know what.” 

He wanted to believe it so badly that he just decided not to be mortified. Danny lifted the burner phone back up and painstakingly assembled a shrug emoji from symbols. 

Honestly they’re such bad options that I don’t even wanna tell you. Can we change the subject? : (

Jason sent back a series of laughing and crying emojis and then, Fine. Let’s talk about all the other stuff we have in common.

Danny pursed his lips. “...Do we have anything in common?” It wasn’t like he knew much about the guy, but he presumed Jason kept himself busy with some boring adult job, building muscle, and biking around looking hot. Danny crossed his legs at the knee and tried not to think of what a twig he looked like in comparison to Jason. He didn’t feel bad about it, honestly. Danny was too busy to make fitness a part of his personality and he had nothing to prove.

I’m illiterate, he settled on as a response. They definitely did not have a love of literature in common. What else did people do? I uh…. Watched a movie two years back.

Any good?

T’was shit, Danny admitted. Hm. He frowned. “I’m not sure where to take this conversation,” he said aloud.

I’m so hungry. Just got off work and I’m trying to decide what to do.

“Oh, I can do something with that.” Danny felt better. Yeah me too, I would kill for an enchilada. He tried to send a ghost emoji and groaned when he remembered that this was a shitty burner phone with no keyboard downloaded and apparently no access to the app store. Jason had already responded by the time that he gave up.

Ghosts eat Mexican food?

They would if they have human zone money, Danny sent back morosely. Oh no, it wasn’t fun anymore. Ya boy can’t pay in the tears of the damned anywhere on this plane of existence smh. His stomach growled with obnoxious timing. He groaned. The last thing he’d eaten had been that sandwich with Jazz. He could cook… He really should cook. 

Ugh. Effort. 

Danny tried to motivate himself up to the kitchen. “It’s four steps,” he said aloud, trying to be encouraging. “I can make it.”

Ah. No. That was actually kind of depressing. He lived in a shoebox with a monthly grocery budget that was just pitiful.

Haha ur broke, Jason sent, because he was a massive bitch. Danny felt a lot better about flipping him off. But then Jason followed it up with an obviously insincere, I’d get you enchiladas if you were in Gotham. Sucks to suck.

Danny sensed weakness to exploit.

“You’re going to regret that,” Danny grimly promised, and hit the call button.

Jason picked up on the second ring, sounding confused and electronic. “Hey?”

“I can be in Gotham for enchiladas,” Danny threatened. His stomach growled again. “You feeling brave? Huh? Huh?” He punched a finger at the air in accusation. “I’m not scared of you or your dank gargoyles, leatherboy.”

There was a weird mechanical sound. Maybe a snort? A laugh? “I’ll send you a GPS point, if you’re there in ten I’ll buy you all you can eat.”

Danny went still like the predator he was. “Bring your life savings.” He hit the end call button and launched himself off the couch to go stuff his feet into his shoes. He let his apartment door slam shut behind him carelessly. He’d made it to the ground level before the pin point landed.

“Fuck, it’s even in my neighborhood.” Danny laughed, flush with petty victory. He looked left, right, and went invisible before he went ghost. There was no one around at this late hour to see him drop off the visible spectrum.

[amarmoria]

Sempiternal 111

Yao x Reader

Synopsis: 10 days in some spa center with your family wouldn't be too bad right...?

Notes: to the person who gave me an idea for the 3rd part, i luv u sm, i didn't reply to your ask since i didn't want to spoil it, ill probs answer it after I post this🤭

Previous | Next

Ugh fuck.

Fuck you and your imagination. This is why you stopped watching documentaries. You can't face him like this, no way, you should just jump off the balcony and run away, you ran your mouth over something so, so childish— you sound like one, now he probably thinks you're weird, if he heard you that is, no.. he def did, he def did..

You groaned and clenched your fists as your family neared the circular, brown hut. The staff had reminded the guests earlier when they arrived to rendezvous to the meeting place to officially start this experience, and familiarize yourselves with the other occupants which your mom didn't appreciate very much.

Though on the other hand, you yourself were really happy to commune with other people aside from your family, it felt suffocating around your parents, they're always bickering, blaming, the tension was always there even if you didn't hear it, so the mention of other people makes your tummy flutter in a good way.

Meeting new people was good, your family's therapist says, it's another way to cope with everything lately. You trudged your way as you hear chatter from inside, your eyes immediately centering on a curly haired woman, she shoots you a smile in which you return, the chatter kinda died down when you went in, now the atmosphere was awkward because everyone was looking at you, the walk to your family's circles felt like ages, you were thankful to the lady who resumed talking to the person beside her, you remember her from earlier when you guys went in, the first guest you met, you wonder if you've seen her somewhere, she looked so familiar.

You didn't pay attention to the adult's conversation, talking about how long this was going to start, or if this was reverse psychology in making the guests commune with each other to familiarize themselves with their fellow patients, you heard your mom complain once again although you didn't care enough to answer, the sun was already starting to die down, light orange hues traverse the hut when the blonde haired woman entered. Everyone was already quiet, your eyes landed on the person you thought you could escape.

"Welcome to Tranquillum House." She pauses, scanning the faces of her new subjects. "Right now, you're at the foot of a mountain."

Her voice blurs in your ears when your focus centers on Yao, gosh, I wonder what would happen if he were to catch you looking. You gulp a big fat saliva and accidentally let out a cough, fuck, you let your eyes wander to the floor when the hut stills, out of anywhere you really had to cough in here, are they looking at you? No maybe it's something else, no, they are, they're looking at you.

You clear your throat, adjusting your crooked top that you kept fiddling with earlier.

"— as I was saying.."

You let out a deep breath, quietly this time, one more event and you're out of here, this place has brought out everything within you than ever in all the years you've been living.

Your eyes fluttered forward once again, regaining the little bit of confidence you tried to muster, that's when you realized Yao was already looking at you.

You stilled, your breath stuck in your throat.

Why is he smirking..

He tilted his head slightly, seemingly teasing you, your eyebrows furrowed as you reciprocated, you mouth a small 'what', although you didn't get to see his response when Masha suddenly blocked your vision from him.

"Isn't that right, my little bee?"

You shook your head and focused on Masha, she was right in front of you, you can see your mom on your far left trying to move close to you but your dad quickly stops her.

"Huh, wha, I," and your back to fiddling with your top, you heard Masha chuckle, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. "W-what, what was the question..?"

"Silly bee, I didn't ask a question"

"Then what is, I mean, you—"

"You're a nervous little thing are you?"

"I-I'm not, it's.."

"Don't worry, I'm not here to lecture you," her laugh is warm, honey, like the place, she looks like the place, maybe you're biased because she does own it.

"I was a little girl,"

"And I was riding my bicycle"

"Reconnecting with joy," she finally lets go of you after staring into your soul, your eyes flicker back to the man, but his eyes were somewhere else, good, you hope you won't ever talk or be near him after this. "and innocence—"

"Excuse me!" Your mom takes a step forward. "This is not appropriate"

"I decide what is appropriate"

"You know our story"

"Mom—" you try and stop her, but she raises a finger at you, immediately shutting you up. "Death will not be your story"

You felt your sister freeze beside you, you looked back at her worriedly, her eyes were full, brimming of tears.

"Zo.."

"I'm sorry."

You watch her bump your shoulder as she runs outside the tent, you were about to run after her when the woman your mother had an argument during your arrival gently held your shoulder and nodded at you, you let her, maybe it's better for her to take a break from your god forsaken family for once.

The dispute behind you was deaf to your ears, it hasn't even been a day and your mom had already fucked up the first impressions, so great for wanting to heal then.

You feel your throat closing in, ugh not again. You bit your tongue and hurriedly left the tent, your ears were alarmingly ringing too loud than before, you wonder what caused it to react like this, you hastily try to fish for something in your pockets, please please please, you search your body, even tapping your butt if it was there.

Fuck, where did you put it?

The longer you try to find it, the more blurred your eyes were, the ringing was already more than deafening, ear-splitting is the right word, you took a big left earlier to avoid Zoe seeing you like this, you didn't want her to worry, she just has to think about herself, so your surrounded by tall bamboo trees in the middle of nowhere, great, but you don't know that, because you're hear tryna breath, see, hear, everything, tryna make everything normal again.

That's when you hear a crunch of leaves behind you.

"Miss Marconi..?"

Ugh, not him..

"Y-you left this.."

You don't turn around, only hiding your face, he holds out a white container you knew too well. Your eyes widen and quickly grab it, he stays behind as you try to pry the annoying cap off, why was this twice as harder to open than it is?!

One of your nails accidentally breaks from the pressure, though it didn't hurt because it was the long one, you didn't pay attention to it, just busy trying to open the goddamn medicine.

A hand suddenly shoots out to grab the container. "Let me."

It wasn't a question, the words in your mouth die on your tongue as he easily broke off the lid, handing you a couple, you wonder how he knew how many pills you took, you didn't add them to your registration in fear of your parents, but that was the least of your concerns, your threw them in your mouth like your life depended on it, it did.

A few seconds pass and you let out a deep breath, and inhaled a bigger one too, the ringing of your ears stopped, and your eyesight was back to normal, you would've sported a little smile after that, patting yourself on the back like a crazy person if not for the warm body still next to you.

That's when you realize he's still there, Yao, had he not been there, your parents would have gotten two reasons for coming here.

You gulp and fix your hair, your face heats up at the thought of him seeing you run around like a mental patient, but you assume he's already seen this many times, maybe that's why he knew how much to give you.

"I—"

"Are you—"

You pause, biting your lip, gosh how many more embarrassing things should you check off your list?

No one spoke for the next few seconds, but you could feel him staring you down. Oh so now you're branded as crazy, weirdo who just had an episode in the middle of nowhere during a retreat, you scratch your head at the thought.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm, it's.. I'm sorry," you pinch your arm, your eyes focusing on the dirt than looking at him.

"Don't be sorry, Bee" you frown at the nickname, why do they even call you that. "It's, you didn't have to, to see that I—"

"If i wasn't there would you have even opened this? Or even find it in the first place?"

You shut your mouth, he's right, you owe him your life, but you don't tell him, he might use it as leverage somewhere.

"I'm sorry," he quickly mumbled, fiddling with the container, the cap was now abandoned on the floor, the half empty pills exposed to the world.

"Will.." you pause, biting the inside of your cheek. "Will you tell my family? About, about what happened?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, maybe trying to read you.

"Do you want me to?"

You thought for a moment, you didn't want to burden him, but you also didn't want this as blackmail, anything can happen, but when you look up, eyes catching his, it's not filled with malice, or anything.. of sorts.

"No, don't, don't tell them.. please"

You don't see the twitch on the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," You frown at the lack of noise, then you see him reaching over to his small beige cloth bag, he pulls out a smaller drawstring pouch, color beige obvi, he dumps your pills in it, throwing the hospital colored container and handing you the new one.

"Here, an apology for breaking the old one"

"You didn't have to—"

"We do, we have to take care of our guests like family, so you don't have to worry about it."

You held onto the pouch and looked up at him, and like before, he was already looking at you. "Thank you, Yao"

"Anything for the guest"

The more chapters i make, the longer every chapter gets. ANYWAYS, two chapters posted this weeknd?! Miracle😧

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 15

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The plot thickens…

Content Warnings - Boggs kills the mood

“Do you really want me to?” he purrs, stepping closer to you. You were sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at him mischievously.

“Well that depends,” you hum. “Do you love me?”

His lips are on yours before you know it. Despite being in love for years, this was the first time you’d had physical contact of this sort, and damn, you should have done this sooner. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

He finally pulls away after a few moments, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Always,” he replied.

“Do you love me?” he asks, kissing along your neck.

“Yes idiot!” you exclaim. “Are you that oblivious?”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Johanna,” he laughs, giddy at your confession.

“Shut up,” you state, pulling his lips back onto yours.

His hands roam your waist as yours toy with the buttons on his jumpsuit. The moment heats up and you can tell where this is headed, but his watch buzzes, killing the mood.

“We’ll have to finish this later,” he sighs, checking his watch. “I’m needed in command before dinner and you are needed back in your room.”

“Ugh, fine,” you reply. “But we will be finishing this later.”

And finish it you did, spending the next afternoon making out on Finnick’s bed. He seemed hesitant, however, to take it any further with you.

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” you ask him as he pulls away again. He’s a bit shocked by your question.

“I just think it’s not something to rush into,” he explains. “And I didn’t think you wanted to because of what happened before.” You see him wince at the mention of this previous event which only confuses you more.

“What happened before?” you ask, sitting up.

“Your victory tour…” he replies. “The night in the capital.”

“We never had sex in the capital,” you tell him, still confused as to what he’s talking about.

“No we did not,” he confirms. “Do you seriously not remember?”

“I cannot think of anything you could be referring to,” you respond. You had no clue what he was talking about.

“Forget it then,” he says, trying to drop the subject. “I just don’t think we’re at that point yet.”

“Fine,” you pout. “What were you referring to though?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he avoids eye contact. “It’s probably best not to remind you.”

He was jealous that you could forget the worst night of your life, while he had to constantly relive all of his.

“Finnick and I had the best idea!” you announce as you waltz into command, Finnick following behind you. The two of you had come to a sort of compromise last night that may fix your living situation.

“And what might that be?” Plutarch asks.

“So you won’t let us live together because we aren’t married, right?” you state. Coin mutters a quick “yes” before you continue. “And you guys need more stuff for your propos…”

The two adults just stare at you, unsure of what’s going to be suggested.

“So… we thought of a compromise,” you explain. “We will let you film a fake wedding of us here in 13 if you let us live together. It will not be legally binding but it can appear real enough on camera so people who see it outside of this bunker believe it.”

“What do you think?” Plutarch asks Coin.

“You two still wouldn’t be able to live together as you are not legally married in 13,” she states.

“Oh my god it’s not like we’re going to make any babies!” you exclaim, causing Finnick to cringe. “We literally just want to be roommates, like we have been for nearly 6 years.”

“I like the idea,” Plutarch shrugs, looking over at Coin. “It would definitely be good footage.”

“Fine but I have some caveats to the arrangement,” Coin relents. “Firstly, Miss Y/L/N must still attend regular checkups with our doctors as well as follow an assigned daily schedule like the rest of the district. Mr. Odair must actually follow his schedule and will commence combat training with the other victors.”

“Deal,” you smile.

The district is a buzz with the news of a wedding. You receive congratulations from many people, most of whom you’ve never met, and confused faces from the victors. They knew you two liked each other but what changed?

“You’re engaged?” Johanna asks, nearly choking on her water.

“Fake engaged,” you clarify. “We made a deal with Plutarch that he can film our fake wedding for a propo if Coin lets us be roommates.”

“I see,” Johanna sighs.

“Why don’t you guys just actually get married?” she asks. “It’s gonna happen with you two eventually.”

“Finnick doesn’t want to,” you reply. “He says marriage is something you do because you love someone, not because you want to be roommates.”

“Ugh men,” she groans. “You mean to tell me he doesn’t realize that the two of you are in love?”

“No we’ve established that already,” you explain. “He just doesn’t want to rush into anything.”

“What do you want?” she asks.

“Him,” you respond. “He’s being weird though. The other day I asked him why he didn’t want to do anything past making out with me and he said it’s cause of my victory tour but literally nothing out of the ordinary happened on my victory tour so I’m super confused and he wouldn’t explain it to me and told me to drop the subject.”

Johanna looks at you in shock and you can’t help but get the feeling that everyone knows something you don’t.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” you ask her.

“Uh if you don’t remember then I don’t think I should remind you,” she responds. Before you can ask her what the hell everyone was hiding from you she suddenly turns serious.

“What did they do to you in the capital?” she asks. “Like what did your treatment include?”

You are a bit taken aback by her change in subject but respond anyways.

“They, um, would take me to a room down the hall and make me sit down in a chair while they gave me some medications,” you respond. “They said they had been recently approved by the capital to treat ptsd and other illnesses I was suffering from. The medicine would make me super sleepy but outside of that I felt fine. I can’t exactly pinpoint when it started working but I know that once it did I felt so much better that I had ever have before.”

“Did they tell you what was in the medicine?” Johanna asks, concerned. “Or what it was called?”

“Nope,” you shrug. “I questioned it at first but after a few dosages I stopped questioning what I was taking because it made me feel better.”

“I think you should tell your doctor about the medicine and treatment,” Johanna tells you. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Taglist:

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[etoiile]

"BE BRAVE"

starring chigiri hyoma!

synopsis: after being your roommate for a little over half a year, chigiri can say without a doubt that he's never met someone like you. you're sweet, funny, and just a great friend. but what happens when he wants to be more than that?

warning(s): not proofread but im p sure i didnt grammar correctly, mild swearing, gender neutral reader

notes: i want him your honor

"im back.." you mumbled, kicking off your shoes and practically throwing yourself onto the couch.

"well, dont you sound energetic." he joked as he turned off his phone and sat down next to you. "rough day?"

"ugh you cant even begin to imagine." you grumbled. "shit day. start talking. distract me."

"hmm..." he thought. "my day was pretty uneventful. i got let out early and just caught up on some stuff."

"who were you texting earlier? got any tea?" you questioned sleepily with a yawn. gossip sessions with chigiri were your absolute favorite. whenever he texted someone, there was usually some sort of news. plus, he gossiped like a girl and you were here for it. (sorry but chi is just so freaking canonically girlypop)

"nah. i wish, though. just talking to my older sister about some... stuff." he trailed off, racking his brain for a new subject.

"you hungry?" he asked, motioning towards the kitchen.

"yeah. will you carry me?" you asked tiredly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. you were too tired to move on your own.

chigiri rolled his eyes at you, but still let you climb onto his back regardless.

as he carried you to the kitchen, he couldn't help the way his heart would leap out of his chest every time you left out a sleepy groan or would shift a little in his hold before nuzzling into his back. he couldn't help but imagine being here with you, in this apartment, though not as roommates or even friends, but lovers. he couldn't help how he could never be mad at you, despite what he'd say. he couldn't help how every time you did literally anything, he could feel himself falling deeper in love with you.

"well, think about it this way, chi." his sister had texted. "you've got two choices before you. confess or dont. correct?"

"yeah"

"WRONG. there's only one choice. by doing nothing, youre doing nothing but self torture. you'll always be thinking about how much you want to hold her but cant, and you'll have to watch her go on dates and even get ready for them. obvi, thats no fun. imo, just go for it, honestly. gotta be brave, yk?"

at the time, chigiri said something along the lines of, "maybe i will, maybe i wont. we'll see." before turning off his phone to greet you.

now, as he thinks about his feelings, he's never been more sure. he's never felt this way about anybody else before. its not like his past relationship where it was thrilling and exciting but exhausting. the way he feels with you is different. you feel safe. warm. comforting. you feel like a warm, sunny breeze after a cold rain. you feel like home. you feel like warmth. you feel like love.

he gently set you down at the kitchen counter before heading to the fridge.

"we dont have much food because SOMEBODY forgot to buy groceries." he teased. "we have fruit, eggs, bread, tobiko roe, rice, and instant ramen."

"yeah, yeah. anyways.." you then started batting your lashes at him like a maniac. "would you mind making me some ramen, my dear, sweet chichi?"

chigiri's heart leapt at the use of the word "my." he could feel his cheeks start to heat up and he quickly turned around.

"yeah, yeah, as you command." he rolled his eyes (for the 349348th time) and got to work.

"dont forget the eggs!"

"just be brave," his sister had said.

pfft. "just be brave?" give him a break! it just wasn't that simple. he couldn't risk the friendship most beloved to him. he just couldn't!

he watched as the seasoning gently bubbled with the noodles as he gently stirred the pot with a pair of wooden chopsticks, humming along to a tune he'd heard on your playlist absentmindedly.

"CHIGIRI?!" you suddenly yelped, clearly taken aback.

"what? is something wrong?" he asked calmly but concerned, praying that you weren't hurt as he set down the chopsticks and ran to you.

his cheeks were met by your palms as you squished his face together. "you're humming "cruel summer" by taylor swift! ive done it! youre a swiftie!" you let go as you squealed and leaped for joy, jumping about.

"chigiri's a swiftie! chichi is a swiftie!"

he chuckled as he watched your antics when suddenly, you crashed into him as you jumped.

you looked up from his chest and were met with his gorgeous pink orbs. it stunned you for a moment. they were so captivating, like they were gently chorusing a beautiful melody. you felt yourself sinking into them when suddenly, you realized the position you were in.

there was maybe an inch or two separating your lips from his. flustered, you quickly drew back, though you didnt exactly want to.

"sorry! um, my bad. i was just thinking! about how your eyes? uh... about how taylor swift has... uh... actually, what am i saying I WAS ACTUALLY-" you stammered as you tried to find an excuse for lingering much too long in his arms. staring into his beautiful eyes. on his chest. his muscular, toned, delicious... STOP.

suddenly, chigiri felt something. it wasn't embarrassment, it wasn't anxiety, it was... bravery.

gently gliding over to your flustered and still stammering figure, chigiri took your hands and looked you in the eye, freezing you.

"y/n, youre my one of my best friends." he said, his melodic voice gently wafting through the air. he then gently leaned down to your ear and in a low whisper, said:

"the thing is though, i dont want you like a best friend."

you were left frozen.

"a lyric from "dress." not bad, am i right?" he asked with a sly grin.

as the great taylor swift said, (in "its time to go") when the words of a sister come back in whisper, he realized that his sister was, as much as he hated to admit it, right. all he needed was to be brave.

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[sgiandubh]

Machiavelli took a day off

... when the Telegraph article was written in great haste, by someone blatantly given a last minute task, who had no fucking idea to whom she was talking and what exactly meant the PR vetted or even prompted questions.

Instead of a line-by-line analysis, we'll take things differently, on this page, using the '5 W rule of journalism' (or even non-fiction writing, in general, if you ask me):

Who? SRH, EP of the OL series and one of the two male leads of the TCND series, which will be shortly broadcast by Channel 4, in the UK and IE only (and Movistar in ES). The rest of the world is not concerned.

What? A promotional article, focused on the actor's personality, CV and projects.

When? At a particular moment in time, just after the SAG-AFTRA strike and before shooting OL's eighth and last season.

Where? Crucial to place it in LHR (to imply he is 'just visiting') and God forbid it would be in GLA, which (for some curious reasons) seems to be off-limits.

Why? An actor with solid credentials hopes to keep agents and employers interested, after above OL project is done, which is rather sooner than later. Also addressing (as per the actor's PR agent specific requirements) three particular issues: the Palestine letter, the Bond project and his 'private life'.

Onwards to the three issues at stake, which probably prompted the article. In chronological order, this time. And no, I am not going to address the Scottish independence mention, because this is a sincere, well-known position of his and this page never bitches about people's convictions - also because I educated myself on it and I agree with S.

Palestine:

It was important, for obvious reasons, to push damage control a tad further. Also, strictly from a hypothetical POV, I would be very curious to read your compare and discuss thoughts with regard to this particular post on this page:

A sort of answer came in the Telegraph paper, too. Not only to me (I am less than nobody), but to all the people (of which we were many) who thought he should not get involved in this type of debate:

This is not the first time he uses this specific talking point. Last time known to me was on the day the Queen died, on X (I looked for that post, but can't find it, because I am just a filthy lurker, like that: but it is there).

The really interesting question, therefore, is: does he/somebody monitor what is being said on Tumblr? The answer is, I think, yes, and it shows. Will it stop me talking in here? Nope, as I trust my discerning abilities, for the moment. Other than that, his damage control op does not bring anything new to the table.

Bond:

What can I say, Sir? While there's life, there's apparently hope. But that doesn't translate well, given the context of your interview. That spells desperate and it's not a great picture. Also, let us keep a pious moment of silence in fond memory of a 25 year old who had a dream and the dream went to Daniel Craig (who I detested as Bond, because every girl has her Bond and mine is Pierce Brosnan, amen).

I know people still speculate about it. I have very high reservations and I cannot, for the life of me, seriously consider even thinking about the possibility. He could do it with flying colors, no doubt. Does he stand a chance? I prefer to have zero expectations on it and be floored if it happens. If he naively still yearns/pushes for it, this interview could very well be as abysmal as C's VF tantrum.

'Private life':

Ugh. Slippery when wet. I have already touched the subject in a reactive re-blog of @samheughanswife's post about it and I will not get back to what I said even without reading the article.

Some more extraordinary wording, in here: 'there might even be space for a personal life' - begs the question 'when?' In general? (in general, all men are created equal, too - it's practice that kills the theory) Now? (it is my staunch belief the answer is yes). After OL? (then and now and after Hiroshima, too). Can you program these things? (nope, stars simply aligned) Heh. Enough said. Also, 'might' spells cheap insinuation to me. But that's just me, a blonde voice in the audience.

Now, onwards to the daughter thing. I believe this specifically addresses the cheap, abundant clickbait content on You Tube, hence the vague 'online' reference (not Tumblr, not fans, not blogs - he is not C, he kept it clean). Such as this very recent one (last 'clip' on the topic was five days ago):

The two I chose to share here, which are very conspicuous FAKES, are originating from the same 'source', an account that seems obsessed with S&C and has no problem changing its narrative three times a week, if needed. My opinion? PR induced shite, to prod numbers/interest and see what sticks.

No newborn daughter? I hear no lies.

As for OL leaving 'no time for relationships', ahem. *urv will be thrilled to read that, I bet the farm. As will Flukenzie Floozy, at least her - damn, she was persistent! Also, hello, back to 2014-2016 playbook, aren't we?

No new relationships? Whatever for, when IYKYK? I hear no lies.

'I want a cat' ('because she's great', says my shipper brain on autopilot), 'but I am too scared even for that'. Humph. A very poor lie. But admitting you wanted and got a Ca(i)t scares the bejesus out of you, since 2016. I hear no lies. Yes, I am being tongue in cheek and damn the consequences.

Morality of it?

The easiest solution is never to take personal questions in interviews or panels. Why These Two still do it completely mystifies me.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

[eoieopda]

foresight (myg)

It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: One-Shot / Prequel to darksided (no. 2) & blindsided (no. 3,) but can be read as a stand-alone fic. Word Count: 11.3K 😳 Content: SPICY FLUFF (18+ or else - oral (m receiving) and penetrative, protected sex (p in v)); strangers to lovers au; POV switches; discussion of anxiety and negative self-talk; alcohol consumption (primary setting is a bar); tteokbokki; and just the cutest fucking duo. ft. Seokjin and a surprise cameo by reader's cat. A/N: The origin story for my beloved babies, which takes place in 2016 (and uses Korean age, fyi.) I found this photo after I finished writing and nearly fell tf over because this was the Yoongi in my brain; jacket and all, omfg. My actual note (and tags) will be at the end! 💕 Listen to the playlist here. Read Interlude: Sunrise drabble here.

Min Yoongi wanted it on record that he tried.

When Seokjin pushed, and pushed, and pushed Yoongi to ask out that girl, he did. She was someone Seokjin knew from somewhere, and she seemed nice enough. All Yoongi really knew about her was that she was pretty, though he hoped to learn that this was the least interesting thing about her.

If nothing else, Yoongi proceeded out of spite. He wanted nothing more than to shove it in Seokjin’s face that he was capable of being a normal, twenty-four-year-old man. He wanted to prove to Seokjin — and to himself, if he were being honest — that he wasn’t a borderline-reclusive workaholic.

Or, at the very least, he wasn’t exclusively a borderline-reclusive workaholic. He did want to get out and meet new people; just in negligible and infrequent doses.

It had been so long since Yoongi last went on a date that three (3) generations of iPhones had come and gone. Children who hadn’t yet been born were now entering pre-kindergarten, making macaroni art with the motor skills they’d obtained during his romantic sabbatical. It was embarrassing; it was depressing; and it all piled up at his doorstep, barricading him inside his apartment.

There was a vicious cycle at play, making matters worse. It casted Yoongi as the lone sock, swirling and drowning inside his washing machine brain. The plot was as stupid as it was repetitive:

Relentless schedule aside, Yoongi didn’t date because it made him anxious. Then, he’d become more anxious because he wasn’t dating. Ultimately, he’d end up too anxious about his anxiety to address the thing that caused it in the first place. And around and around and around he went.

Why the fuck did people subject themselves to this on purpose?

Asking her out was the simplest part. With a quick text and an emoji — the latter of which Yoongi deliberated over for far too long — he’d knocked the ball into her court. She’d responded within minutes, which he assumed was a good sign. Saturday night, they’d decided, at eight o’clock.

Unfortunately, no part of what came next was easy.

Yoongi had spent the four subsequent days in a tailspin. Spiraling over where to take her, what to wear, and what the fuck to talk to her about. In the few interactions they’d had before, all she seemed to do was pepper him with questions about his career. Like everyone else, she was fascinated by Yoongi: the Concept.

Whether or not she cared about Yoongi: the Person was yet to be determined.

Worse, after three years in the public eye, Yoongi worried that he’d lost track of what once made him relatable. That boy from Daegu — with a chip on his shoulder and a fire in his belly — was traded in for a luxury model. He no longer had to debate between purchasing a meal or a bus ticket home from work because he was now loaded and living in Hannam-fucking-dong.

Ugh.

People looked at him with stars in their eyes, but he could never tell if anyone truly saw him. And even if someone did, what was left to see, anyway? Yoongi doubted that he could pick himself out of a lineup now.

Eventually, after three nights of tossing and turning, Yoongi had landed on something that felt meaningful. He would take this girl to a hole-in-the-wall that he loved dearly, which sat relatively unnoticed in a lesser-traveled pocket of Seoul. It was quiet and unassuming, but had a life of its own.

As far as Yoongi could see, it was the perfect place to find the parts of himself that’d dropped on his rapid, record-breaking ascent. Decidedly unremarkable but worth it, nonetheless. There, she could get to know the person behind the persona. Maybe she’d even come to like who he actually was.

Before heading out, Yoongi had pitched his plan to Seokjin and received a thumbs up in response. Unfortunately, her reaction came from two knuckles down. Her departure followed less than sixty seconds after her arrival. She’d fled so quickly, in fact, that she managed to flag down the very same cab before it could clear the block.

Through her window, she’d shouted out her scathing review: Yoongi was cheap; she would never drink bottom-shelf liquor with him in a glorified dumpster; and she both expected and deserved better because he could access better. Yoongi had stood stunned on the sidewalk as she disappeared — likely forever — in a cloud of exhaust.

Somehow, it felt like that cab had run him over as it peeled out.

To be clear, none of this was painful because Yoongi was disappointed; he wasn’t, not in the slightest. Good fucking riddance. It was worse than that. He felt validated, and he knew exactly how fucking sad that was.

See? Told you so, he’d thought bitterly to himself. Then, immediately, Yoongi criticized himself for being too critical. Hypocrite.

So, there he stood.

If Yoongi followed his instinct and went home, he could rebuild his barricade and watch several episodes of Chopped before passing out alone in his bed. A productive night, despite its fruitless start. But then, he realized, he’d have to answer when Seokjin inevitably called to ask what the fuck went wrong.

Fuck it.

Yoongi shrugged to no one but himself. He then slipped from the sidewalk, through the dumpster’s front door, and straight to the bar. Slumping down onto a leather-topped stool, he rested his elbows against the mahogany countertop and dropped his dejected chin in his hand.

Is this rock bottom? He wondered, Drinking in a bar alone on a Saturday night?

Within seconds, there was a loud crash several meters away. Yoongi jerked his head towards the source of the sound, but he saw nothing. His brows furrowed. All was quiet until a whine erupted from the doorway to the back room.

“Shit, shit, shit!"

Upon standing, Yoongi pressed his hands against the bar and leaned forward to investigate; equal parts concerned and nosy.

On the ground in the doorway, he found shattered remnants of what was once a bottle of Tanqueray. Crouching above the pine-scented wreckage, plucking chunks of glass off the hardwood, he found you.

Yoongi immediately grimaced at your chosen method of disaster clean-up. There was already a bandage wrapped around your finger — with a Hello Kitty pattern, he noted — that confirmed your ongoing battle with clumsiness.

You didn’t need to add to that collection and he couldn’t watch in good conscience while you made that outcome more and more likely.

Mind made up, he crossed quickly to the side of the bar he had no authorization to be on. As soon as Yoongi reached you, he saw the nearby bucket labeled “broken shit.” Then, he clocked the small hand-brush and dustpan resting against it. Wasting no time, he grabbed all three; and without a word, you allowed him to carefully usher you out of the way.

Crouching down the way you had, he began to sweep the broken shit into the dustpan. Too preoccupied to glance up, he asked without looking, “Are you okay?”

When you didn’t immediately respond, Yoongi’s eyes quickly rose to find you with strawberry-pink cheeks and wide, vaguely horrified eyes, and —Shit, was he staring?

Say something. Say anything. For fuck’s sake, Yoongi, at least smile so she knows you’re not angry.

What he landed on looked more like a grimace, he was sure of it, and it didn’t seem to fix that look on your face.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeaked once he finished dumping the glass into its designated receptacle.

You didn’t give him a chance to tell you that an apology wasn’t necessary, opting instead to rattle off your perceived sins at an alarming rate:

“I think I’m the only bartender in Seoul that’s this bad at tending bar. I mean, I didn’t even know anyone else was here — because I wasn’t paying attention — and now you, the patron I’m supposed to be serving, are cleaning up after me. It’s definitely supposed to be the other way around —“

A smile was twitching at the corner of his mouth that he couldn’t prevent. Without a door into the so far one-sided conversation, Yoongi had to jump through the window you created when you finally drew a breath. “Have you got a mop?”

Based on the way your eyebrows knit together, you’d been thrown entirely for a loop. You re-opened your mouth, likely to apologize for not following the sudden twist. Yoongi refused to allow further self-flagellation, though.

Classic Yoongi: demonstrating more compassion for strangers than he ever shows himself.

“For the gin,” He chuckled softly as he gestured down to the puddle at his feet. Suddenly and baselessly bold, he shot you a playful look and tacked on, “And for all the words you just spilled.”

The aforementioned eyebrows shot up as your jaw dropped further. Thankfully, it was amusement and not offense glittering in your eyes. Pretty. As you crossed your arms over your chest, you tilted your head and sized him up with a quick glance.

If this was a test, he was determined to pass.

“Maybe,” you hummed.

Yoongi wanted to volley your nonchalant tone, but he couldn’t swallow the laughter bubbling up from his chest. He was grinning like an idiot; there was no denying it. “Maybe?”

Your eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, the perfect overture to the mischief on your lips. When you replied, that microscopic smirk never faltered: “Let’s say, for arguments’ sake, that there is a mop.”

A manicured finger was held up to stop Yoongi from interjecting.

Mystified, his poor brain tried to crunch the numbers. Statically, it made no sense that — out of the thousands of people he’d met in his life — he’d never come across someone quite like you. In a matter of minutes, you’d pirouetted from adorable, to self-depreciating, to coy and confident.

All-encompassing, all electric, you moved through tone shifts far more gracefully than you did through the bar.

And if he’d done the math right, this was the first interaction he’d had in recent memory that didn’t deplete his energy. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Gazing at you, Yoongi began to wonder if this was how extroverts got to feel as they moved through the world. Like it gave back more than it took. Lucky bastards.

Once Yoongi was thoroughly disarmed, you continued breezily, “Hypothetically speaking, would you let me be the one to use said mop? After all, it’s both my job and my mess.”

“Hypothetically?” He repeated, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Your eyes narrowed further as he paused to formulate a counterpoint. Meanwhile, Yoongi’s involuntary smile spread in a straight line across his face.

You’re a goddamn delight, full stop.

“Assuming, for the sake of this argument, that I do concede the mop in question —” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, “— How could I be sure that you wouldn’t hurt yourself? After all, you did just try to clean up broken glass with your hands.”

If this had been a gun fight and not banter behind a bar, you would’ve shot him dead. Like lightning, you quickly unraveled your arms and held your hands at the ready. That effervescent grin of yours might be his undoing instead.

Eyes alight, you threw down the gauntlet: “Gawi, bawi, bo?”

Never before in your life had you played rock, paper, scissors, and lost at every single turn. You’d also never requested a rematch for every loss before, continuing the game into perpetuity; but you had a hypothesis to prove and a perfectly unique smile to make wider.

No matter what you threw, he’d offered a gesture to counter it. If his eyes hadn’t gotten wider and wider with shock as it just — kept — happening, you would’ve simply decided that he was psychic. A mind-reader, predicting your every move before you’d even settled on it yourself.

Spooky.

At the start, his amusement had been more or less concealed. Withheld, even, like it was dangerous to grin with every single one of his teeth. Eventually, though, his shoulders shook the way yours did; and mirth pooled in the corners of his eyes as he wheezed through laughter with you.

You didn’t know him, but still, you couldn’t help thinking: there he is.

At some point during your unending match, he doubled over to catch his breath. Seizing the element of surprise, you’d darted into the storage room before he could’ve stopped you. When you reappeared with a mop and bucket in tow, you’d immediately begun to address the mess you made. It took a few moments of buffering for him to realize what you’d done.

That time around, he hadn’t shouldered your burden for you and thank god for that. First impressions were never your strong suit, and you were already starting from behind. Always too much, you couldn’t be useless, too.

Instead, he’d simply resigned himself to swapped names and spiked blood pressure as you struggled — stubbornly and independently — to dump the contents of that yellow, wheeled mop bucket into the utility sink. Standing quietly out of your way, Yoongi had looked close to proud when you managed to do it all without spilling a drop.

See, you’d thought, I’m verifiably Not Useless!

Once the evidence of your clumsy crime had been disposed of, you’d returned the cleaning supplies to their rightful space in the storage room’s closet. Similarly, you and your patron returned to your rightful places: him on his stool at the front of the bar; you, finally fixing him a drink behind it.

Ardbeg, single malt, neat.

After sliding the glass across the mahagony to his waiting hand, you glanced towards the front entrance. As usual, there were no pedestrians wandering this way; no cars on the street, either. The only quiet part of Seoul — especially on a Saturday night.

The bar routinely bordered on empty, but it had some magical quality to it: Nobody you saw inside for the first time seemed to be there for the first time. This was especially odd because it wasn’t a place anyone went to, just a place they ended up. Nobody’s first choice, it was a last resort only visible to people who knew where to look for it.

Yoongi was the first one to speak, unknowingly putting an end to your mythologizing. You just barely flinched at the surprise of his voice, but he managed to catch it. Then, he conducted a brief yet careful study of your face to determine whether you were simply jumpy, or experiencing some sort of medical event.

A gesture like that, done in passing, shouldn’t have meant so much to you. Really, all he did was look at you. It felt like more than that, though, because it was the second-kindest thing anyone had done for you in months — and it occurred merely twenty minutes after the first-place winner.

Now, that’s depressing.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” He hummed, “I only ever run into Yang Daehyun-nim, though it’s been a minute. Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s still around. You know him?”

“Yes, absolutely. He’s my husband.” You deadpanned and Yoongi nearly choked to death on his drink.

You were, of course, fucking with him. The man in question was swiftly approaching ninety, but he looked twice as old. You successfully maintained your ruse until Yoongi’s tongue breached the barrier of his lips and gathered his runaway whiskey.

Where am I? Who am I? Is that legal?

Yoongi simultaneously picked up the joke and his glass. He raised both with pure amusement on his face, “Cheers to the happy couple, then.”

Never one to raise a toast empty-handed, you quickly dumped what little remained of a nearby soju bottle into a shot glass. His eyes sparkled as he watched you race to catch up; even more so when you leaned in to clink your glass against his.

Oh, so he’s pretty pretty.

“To the happy couple,” you echoed.

With both of your drinks dispatched, you grabbed the bottle of Ardbeg to top him up. Expensive taste, you noted, not the low-rent version you were destined for.

If Yoongi hadn’t shown up to order it, that bottle would’ve continued to gather dust on the top shelf. Like you, none of your regulars had the capital to even glance that high. Granted, the sample size was abysmally small at only three (3) people, but the point still stood.

Until Yoongi mentioned Daehyun, you couldn’t think of a single reason why your employer bothered to keep anything like that in stock. Now, that piece seemed to fit. Still, you were puzzled as to why Yoongi would come to a dive like this to drink liquor like that.

Clearly, the man sitting in front of you contained multitudes.

At the exact moment you asked how long he’d been coming here, Yoongi wondered when you joined the staff. Your respective answers came simultaneously, too. His six years easily dwarfed your eight months.

True to form, you joked that he was more qualified to tend bar here than you were. He said his only relevant skill was cleaning broken glass.

It made you sad in some stupid way to realize that you could’ve met a hundred times over by now. Had more conversations like this, haunted the joint jointly rather than on your own. Truthfully, though, you were at least semi-soothed by the timing.

You were a horrible bartender now, but you’d been even worse before. He might not have survived this long.

Once again, Yoongi set your runaway train-of-thought back on track. “Eight months ago.” He took a sip, then he asked, “Is that when you moved to Korea?”

It was a simple question, certainly not an offensive one. The reason it nearly bowled you over was that no one had ever bothered to ask. Nobody seemed to notice the non-native accent that occasionally appeared when you spoke — not unless you referenced its existence first, that is.

Even then, people forgot. You wished you were confident that they simply got used to it, but you had the sneaking suspicion that nobody really listened when you spoke. After all, no one had a reason to give a shit about you, so long as you kept their glasses full.

The weight of your curiosity caused your head to tilt to the side. You allowed a tiny smile to spread as you asked, “What gave me away?”

“Don’t get me wrong —” He held up his hands to prevent a reaction you’d never dream of giving. “It’s not obvious. You’ve got a better grasp than some of my friends do — which is kind of sad, actually. They’ve lived here their whole lives.”

He gifted you a reassuring smile, then came the true prize: he licked his lips absently before speaking again. You had to clench every single muscle in your body to keep from swooning.

That cannot be legal.

“I noticed it earlier, but you were already embarrassed. I didn’t want to risk making it worse.” Yoongi still looked like he was afraid to hurt your feelings. “When you word-vomit — like you did earlier — your consonants sound like they would in English.”

This linguistic assessment didn’t surprise you; it was dead-on. It didn’t embarrass you, either, but you blushed nonetheless. Without thinking, you mused, “Makes sense that you’re the first to say something. You spend more time overseas than most, right?”

For a split second, you swore you saw Yoongi frown. A little twinge, one you would’ve missed if you weren’t so fixated on his every micro-expression. If you could have, you would’ve hit the rewind button and reverted back thirty seconds.

Was it off-limits, finally acknowledging that you knew who you were dealing with? Did it bother him that you did know, and proceeded to speak to him like the glaring disparity between the two of you didn’t matter? Did it matter?

“You mean to tell me —” He started quietly with a flex of his eyebrow. You feared the worst, even though Yoongi didn’t strike you as the type to make your failure to fawn a problem. “— That the place you lived before wasn’t under a rock?”

As soon as he saw your expression morph from panic to blatant relief, his eyes crinkled until every one of his facial features contributed to his smile. It was difficult to process how an expression that gentle hit you like a punch, but it did, and you felt a bit dizzy.

Professionalism be damned, you cracked open another bottle of soju and filled not one, but two glasses. Yoongi smirked — likely unsurprised by your willingness to drink with him on the clock — and easily accepted the shot you slid his way.

“To the worst bartender in Seoul,” You cheered as you raised it.

He rolled his eyes at your self-depreciation, but followed your lead without any meaningful resistance. Like it was choreographed, you both downed your shots in unison. Straight, no chaser. Just the slight burn in the back of your throat and the very first thing your scrambled brain could think to say:

“Do you want to hear a joke?”

Yoongi was clearly stunned by your sudden maneuver, but you didn’t wait for him to co-sign your antics. You cleared your throat like you were about to say something worth hearing, then you warbled, “Knock, knock!”

You expected him to pause again; or worse, to leave you hanging entirely. It was, frankly, stupid how much of an effect the latter always had on you. You were a demented scientist and your bad joke was a litmus test, ready to reveal on the front-end what kind of person Yoongi really was.

Translation: Tell me now if I’m too much. I’m always too much.

“Who’s there?”

He didn’t hesitate. There was no blink of an eye, no breath taken in between your call and his response. This time, it was you who needed a split-second to buffer.

When your brain finally reloaded, you peeped, “Cargo.”

“Cargo who?” Yoongi asked slowly, growing visibly suspicious about where this stupid, stupid road was leading. Somehow, he looked as amused by you as he did continually bewildered.

Springing the trap, you accentuated your shitty punchline with a sing-song tone and pantomime for emphasis, “Car go beep beep!”

Nobody had ever — ever — looked at you the way Yoongi did when you concluded your comedy routine. As if your teary-eyed grin and raucous laughter were something beautiful; and your presence alone wasn’t killing off one, sorry brain cell for every minute that passed.

“Knock, knock,” Yoongi volleyed with a soft chuckle, and without breaking eye contact.

As if you weren’t too much.

Yoongi needed a minute to take inventory.

When he left his apartment at a quarter-til-eight, he was headed out for his first date in a long damn time. It was Seokjin’s setup and that girl’s letdown. For Yoongi, it was another drop in the bucket; one final reason to commit to life as a hermit.

Troll that he was, Yoongi was ready to crawl back under his bridge; emerging only to pose impossible riddles to passersby who didn’t know to stay away.

His brain had given him an out, but for once, he didn’t take it. So, what did he end up with instead?

You, sitting on the bar, going shot-for-shot with him; and telling your self-titled villain origin story with award-worthy narration.

Equally as enthralling as the story itself was the tangential webs you weaved along the way. As he’d already learned to expect, you apologized frequently for the way one thought trailed off in a direction you didn’t intend. He wished you didn’t; he had no trouble following wherever your mind led you.

You, born here but not raised here, returning to claim a master’s degree in photography and to reclaim what you felt you missed out on. Yoongi loved your foreign take on local foods, even if you hadn’t yet acquired a taste for pickled vegetables.

We’ll get you there, he’d promised.

You, gesturing with hand movements so impassioned they nearly knocked you off balance; right off the bar. He was down to listen to you talk about whatever — for any amount of time — because he could feel how much you cared about — well, everything.

Animated, fully alive, and so fucking refreshing.

Him, with one hand on his drink and the other hovering on the bar top near your hip — just in case your full-body laugh did, in fact, provoke a fall.

Yoongi, who do you think you’re fooling?

So, maybe it was never exclusively about concern for your safety — even though you’d demonstrated from the jump that it was warranted. Yoongi was quickly coming to realize that, when it came down to it, he simply liked having you close. He liked you, full stop.

Every now and then, you’d wiggle where you sat, and the denim of your jeans would brush against his knuckles. It was as innocent as contact could be, but for someone so secretly touch-starved, it was bliss. Is this the kind of feeling he gave up, locked away in his tower? It sure as shit made leaving feel worth it.

He was buzzed, sure, but not drunk enough to blame the warmth he was feeling on the liquor. Any flush on his cheeks would only be partly genetic. The rest of it was all you — and the way you talked with your whole body, and that giggle.

Seriously, what the fuck is that giggle? A wind-chime made out of stars?

“Yoongi?”

It didn’t dawn on him that he was staring until you called his name. Then, it dawned on him that he didn’t care if he’d been caught — not even a little bit. Red-handed, all Yoongi could do was smile up at you as you blinked down at him.

He’d thought it before and now he was thinking it again: You are goddamn delight.

You threw your head back and laughed. Maybe it was the soju, or how fucking obvious he made it that he was infatuated with you. Whatever the cause, the effect was music to his ears. He’d record it, if he could, and play it on loop to appease the butterflies going wild in his stomach.

Unfortunately, he was accurate in his prediction. The sudden movement of your laughter sent you reeling, but before you could fall, Yoongi was quick to intervene. He stood abruptly from his stool to secure you; one hand on your hip and the other — unintentionally — on your thigh.

“Shit — Sorry,” Yoongi muttered, though he was very much still holding you. Oh, fuck, his brain screamed as he glanced down at his hand on your thigh. Heart pounding, his gaze flitted from his touch to your face.

Your mouth was still slightly open, but that could’ve easily been attributed to the fact that you’d so narrowly avoided launching yourself headfirst at the ground. If it wasn’t that, then you were looking for the words to yell to get him to back off.

Those were the only possible explanations; and any minute now, his hand would accept his brain’s signal to pull away.

Any minute now. Any —

Yoongi watched it all happen in slow motion and he still couldn’t believe it when you leaned in. Or when your hair slipped over your shoulder and brushed against his. Or when you kissed him quick and pulled back just to smile from mere centimeters away.

“Impressive reflexes.” You were breathless but you still managed to sigh. Have you had freckles this whole time? “What’s that saying? Not all heroes wear Lewis Leathers?”

Your playful tug at his jacket had no force behind it, but even with his feet firmly planted, Yoongi knew that he was falling. His stomach fluttered from the pinnacle of that emotional rollercoaster and, for once, he wasn’t afraid of heights. He’d kiss you again and follow that thrill all the way down.

Or, he would have, if the bell above the door didn’t chime.

Just as quickly as you’d kissed him, you spun around and prepared to dismount from your perch on the bar. Yoongi’s hand still seemed to vibrate, even when you slipped out from underneath. It was absolutely ridiculous that his body missed you already — automatically — but he couldn’t think of any other explanation.

He wasn’t a violent person by any means, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to throw the incoming patron out on their ass and lock the door behind them.

The audacity. Who does this clown think they are, coming into a place of business during their business hours? For fuck’s —

“Finally!” You squeaked as you stuck your landing. Then, you skipped around the edge of the bar and continued on your way towards the door.

Jesus Christ. Even the way you walk is cute.

Yoongi was initially too preoccupied with watching you to notice the intruder, but when he did, he couldn’t force the exasperated look off his face. That is, until he saw the panicked look on the prepubescent face of the delivery boy.

The poor kid’s eyes bugged out at Yoongi from under the brim of his uniform cap. Immediately, Yoongi felt inclined to atone, to bow. Instead, he offered a mildly apologetic grimace for the heart attack he didn’t mean to cause.

You accepted the bags of food into your arms, beaming like the fucking sun as you glanced over your shoulder to Yoongi. “You said you liked Hongdae Dakgalbi, right?”

Yes. Yes, he did. But his brain was spinning its wheels in the mud because —

What he finally said wasn’t a question, but it certainly sounded like one: “You ordered food.”

Clearly, Yoongi was missing something. He glanced around and confirmed that there was, in fact, an operational kitchen still situated at the far end of the room. He pointed to the small window carved out for taking and producing orders. “What about —?”

“Binna called off,” you shrugged through your explanation. Then, you tilted your head with a coy smile, “Were we supposed to starve?”

Yoongi had questions. A lot of them.

First and foremost: When did you summon takeout and how did you manage to go unnoticed in the process? He was certainly staring at you for long enough to catch it. Or maybe his heart-eyes were getting foggy with age.

Also, we? As in, you ordered food with the intention of sharing it with him? And you paid for it?

When his broken brain snapped back to attention, it registered the fact that you’d settled on top of the stool next to his. You either didn’t notice the smoke flying out of Yoongi’s ears, or you accepted his brain damage for what it was. Either way, you were too excited about the piping hot tteokbokki in front of you to notice the way he still lingered by the door.

The delivery boy was long gone by now; he took the first opportunity to get as much distance between himself and the visibly annoyed person he’d interrupted. Looking at it now, Yoongi’s fingers twitched with a desire to engage the deadbolt. But he didn’t — he, a coward, wouldn’t — so he simply reclaimed the spot next to you.

You immediately held up a pair of chopsticks as you fished out napkins with your other hand. Yoongi stared at them for too long, prompting you to look quizzically up at him. You asked no questions, and he couldn’t think of a single reason why he said it, but he blurted out:

“I’m supposed to be on a date.”

Unfazed by the lack of context, you gently tucked that pair of chopsticks into his useless hand. Yoongi blinked down at them like he didn’t know what to do with them. You went back to unpacking your takeout.

“And I’m supposed to be working,” You chirped, as if what he just said — unprompted — wasn’t completely idiotic. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Yoongi shook his head, praying it would knock his trapped thoughts loose. “I meant that I was supposed to be the one buying dinner.” He frowned down at the spread you’d provided. “If I knew you were hungry, I would’ve —“

“Taken a bite by now?” You teased with wiggling eyebrows. “Come on, Min Yoongi, you know the rules. The eldest eats first.”

Stunned wasn’t adequate. Entranced? His mouth hung open, primed to speak, without a single, coherent response on the horizon. Mystified, at the very least. You were always one step ahead of Yoongi, dancing off in a brand new direction.

How on Earth did you do it so easily? How were you so effortlessly bold when he couldn’t even blink without deliberating over the idea for days?

Yoongi wasn’t even jealous the way he would’ve expected to be, meeting his non-neurotic foil. He didn’t want to steal that spark for himself, or try to mimic your fearlessness. If he could just continue to witness it, that would be enough.

You threw him off again when you plucked a small piece of tteokbokki from one of the cardboard containers below and gently maneuvered it into his unwitting, waiting mouth.

Game over. Min Yoongi is done for.

“There we go,” You cooed with a smirk. Then, those chopsticks grabbed a piece of tteokbokki of your very own. You smiled adoringly down at it, winked up at him, and said, “Now we’re off to the races.”

After several minutes of deeply contented, quiet chewing, you turned slightly to gaze at him. You didn’t say anything at first; you simply watched and let your lips curve slightly into an understated smile. Yoongi didn’t care if that was all you did because — for once — he felt seen.

Eventually, you did speak. Your voice was soft, barely casting a ripple through the silence. “Can I ask?”

Your eyes scanned over his face for permission. Yoongi had no idea what your question was, but he doubted that he was capable of saying no to you. Fire at will.

“About the date you’re not on,” You clarified.

The one I was supposed to be on, or the one I might be on instead?

“Why aren’t you on it?”

He didn’t know how to explain any of it without sounding pathetic. He knew he’d rather die than have to relay his earlier misfortune to Seokjin; somehow, though, Yoongi didn’t hesitate to respond to you. Like everything else about the past few hours, it felt laughably easy.

“She’s a friend of a friend,” He began as soon as he wiped excess gochujang from the corner of his mouth.

“He basically harassed me into asking her out because I, uh — I don’t get out much. And I know a lot of people say that, but I really do mean it. You can probably guess as much from my frighteningly translucent complexion.”

Your mouth hitched up at the corner when he joked, but you didn’t laugh. In some odd way, he was grateful that you didn’t — not just because you didn’t enable his self-depreciation, but because you seemed too invested in what he was saying to interrupt him.

Nobody had ever looked at him quite like that before.

He cleared his throat, then he pressed on, “So, I did — and that part was fine. After that, though, I don’t think I slept at all. For, like, days. Now, I think I was just dreading the whole thing, but while it was happening, I figured I was nervous. Rusty, you know?”

Yoongi looked down at his hands, which fidgeted autonomously with his chopsticks. “I put way too much thought into the whole thing — I always do — even though I had this feeling that nothing was going to happen the way I planned.”

He paused, poked mindlessly at a lump of rice, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t intentionally held. Nothing had happened the way he planned, but if it did, who would’ve hand-fed him tteokbokki because they were too impatient to wait?

You dropped your chin in your hand as you continued to watch him. Wordlessly, you reached out with your other hand. Yoongi noticed just in time as you gently removed a piece of lint that had stuck to the tip of his jacket collar. Your eyes followed it as it floated off towards the floor.

Yoongi couldn’t see anything but you.

“You picked this place,” you murmured. Slowly, your eyes drifted back up to his face; he froze solid. The only thing moving was the pounding heart in his chest. “Must mean a lot to you.”

He wanted to be brave and tell you that it meant even more now. He wasn’t brave, though, so he swallowed that thought down with a mouthful of soju.

“She was not a fan, as it turns out. Hated it so much, just from the sidewalk, that she jumped right back in her taxi — yelled at me through the window that she deserved better than to drink bottom-shelf liquor in a dumpster with me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and he wondered which part of that statement bothered you the most. Having your place of employment referred to as a dumpster would be a reasonable sore spot; one he probably should’ve avoided. Fuck. Could he rewind thirty seconds and omit that part?

“Well,” you frowned, “Joke’s on her. This dumpster has exactly one bottle on its top shelf, and it was apparently reserved just for you.”

He could kiss you. He really, really could.

You shifted on your stool, though, and stared out into the middle-distance at nothing in particular. Deep in thought, too, judging by the way your frown curved even further.

“It’s kind of funny, in a shitty sort of way. She more or less told you that you’re not enough, and people love to tell me that I’m too much.”

It was Yoongi’s turn to frown. Who in their right mind could look at you, experience the goddamn magnet that you are, and willingly detach themselves from you? The thought alone made his jaw clench.

There hadn’t been a single second since he met you — albeit, not that long ago — where he didn’t want to see and know more of you. Where he didn’t beg those seconds to slow the fuck down because the night kept moving faster than he wanted it to.

So far, no amount of time felt like enough.

“You’d think it would be nice, being everyone’s favorite new toy,” You laughed, to Yoongi’s surprise.

Looking genuinely amused, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “And I guess, for a minute, it really is. You do your silly song and dance; and everyone loves you — until they don’t anymore. Eventually, your tricks get boring; you burn them out; then they take out your batteries. You get shelved pretty quickly.”

There was a flicker of genuine hurt in your eyes, but you were smiling when you picked your glass up off the bar and raised it. “To always being the wrong amount!” You giggled.

“Nah.” Yoongi shook his head. He grabbed his drink, touched his glass to yours, and winked, “To being just right.”

One way or another, you spent most nights watching the clock, holding your breath, and waiting for midnight.

On New Year’s Eve, it was hope that bloomed bright in your chest like fireworks. When those final seconds dissolved, it meant closing one chapter and opening another. Something bigger, something better, something blank for you to fill in. A year in fresh white paper, with every color at your disposal.

Ten — nine —

For the rest of your midnights, it was relief that finally allowed you to unclench your jaw and drop your stiff shoulders. Closing time. Freedom to clean up, clear out, and drag your tired, little body back up to your apartment.

Thankfully, when your work hours were over, there were only three flights of stairs separating you from your bed, your cat, and your Netflix subscription.

Eight — seven —

Tonight was an outlier, a statistical anomaly. As the short hand inched closer and closer to twelve, your pulse picked up its pace. For once, it wasn’t relief and it certainly wasn’t hope. It was distinctively dread forming a pit in your stomach.

Even more than that, it was a telepathic plea shooting out from your brain that begged, and begged, and begged for more time. Five more minutes, just five more minutes.

Six — five —

You felt stupid, of course, because you knew that neither of you would turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck midnight. There was no spell, just two strangers who happened to be in the same bar at the same time, with bad jokes and a bottle of Tanqueray.

No bomb would detonate, no one would drop dead. When it was over, you’d simply go home, and Yoongi would go home and then…

Four —

That “and then what?” had you frantic. What if this moment ended and nothing followed? What if the magic didn’t survive the night?

You couldn’t take that disappointment; you knew that much. Gripping tight to your last first night, you tore your eyes away from the clock and looked at Yoongi.

He didn’t notice you staring because he had also become fixated on the clock ahead. His brow furrowed just slightly as he observed it, and you wondered what it meant.

Three —

You knew what you hoped it meant.

For all you knew, though, he might’ve been begging that hand to move faster. The end all, be all of justifications to say goodnight and go. To drop the moment in the bin with the spent, citrus garnishes on the way out; and then crawl back into that bed he spoke so fondly of.

The way you did whenever four zeroes lined up in a row like cartoon cherries on a slot machine. A personal jackpot any other midnight, but the farthest thing from a prize now.

Two —

No. You refused to believe that.

In the reality you’d chosen, he was strapped into that rollercoaster car beside you. He felt his stomach flip the way yours did as you stared down at the path ahead. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you were sure that you weren’t up there alone.

So, when the countdown was over, you took a deep breath and stated, “I’m calling a time-out.”

In actuality, it was more than a statement. It was a shout and it startled him so badly that he flinched.

As soon as he resettled on his stool, Yoongi’s neck could’ve snapped with how quickly he turned to look at you. His eyes were wider than you’d seen them at any point in the last four hours. Those once-knitted brows shot up to kiss the blonde strands brushing against his forehead.

You envied them, as stupid as that was.

“You’re — what?” He peeped.

Even louder than before, you blurted out your explanation. “I’m stopping the clock!”

You might’ve been the sole American in the entire neighborhood, but you could guarantee that you still knew less about football than Yoongi did. Knowing all of that didn’t stop you from making your worst attempt at a metaphor, or throwing your hand out to mime your way through it.

“Flag on the play — or whatever, I don’t know.”

At first, his expression didn’t change and you began to panic. Maybe you could duck down behind the bar and he’d eventually forget that you were hiding there. Then he wouldn’t see how pink your cheeks were; how the hope in your eyes bordered on desperate.

Shockingly, you weren’t delusional. You’d simply underestimated him.

Yoongi glanced down at his watch — already two minutes into Sunday — and then back to you. “Wow. Would you look at that? Only a minute til midnight.”

You could kiss him; you really, really could.

“Do you want to, uh, hang out? With me? Like, not here?”

Yoongi was smirking slightly at your stammering, just enough for you to notice, but you didn’t faint the way your body wanted you to. Instead, you doubled down.

“I live in the apartment upstairs, and this isn’t a proposition — it’s also not, not a proposition — but I need to lock-up here, and I still want you with me when I’m done.”

He blinked rapidly like you’d once again shook him off your tail. You watched in slow motion as his smirk dropped, and his brows dipped back into thoughtful wrinkles at the lowest part of his forehead. It hurt, physically somehow, that there was something to consider.

Were you really this egregiously wrong in your conclusions, or had he finally hit his quota with you and decided that you — this — were too much, too soon?

You wanted to explain yourself, to say that you were just offering for him to come up and sit on your couch with you. Because you wanted to keep this night alive and keep talking for as long as you could. Because this was something and you knew it.

You opened your mouth to do so, but he was the quicker draw.

Yoongi looked genuinely conflicted and you believed him when he said, “I don’t think I can. I have to be up in four hours to —”

“It’s okay!” You chirped. Stupid little bird, flying headlong into a window. You smiled and prayed it looked genuine, but Yoongi didn’t look convinced. Still, you breezed, “Raincheck, then — maybe.”

Maybe when you take the trash out later, you can heave yourself into the dumpster with it.

Deciding that your disappointment shouldn’t be his burden, you grabbed the takeout containers from the counter and whisked yourself over to the trash bin to discard them.

In a magnificent showing of restraint, you didn’t stuff yourself inside it, too. Instead, your tidy tornado kept spinning, picking up every glass you encountered and shoving them hurriedly into the dishwasher below the bar.

Are you suddenly Employee of the Month? Why is this the moment you choose to actually do your job?

With your hip, you nudged the dishwasher door closed much more clumsily than usual. Then, you began wiping down the counter at warp speed; damn near scrubbing a hole straight though the wood.

Why are you so frazzled? Are you really this sensitive after being politely turned down by someone you just met? This is what they mean when they say you’re “too much,” and you know what? They’re right.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Yoongi asked because he was lovely.

You were, as it turned out, as bad an actor as you were a bartender. Your reassuring smile was more unsettling than anything else, but you hoped that — maybe — the shake of your head was enough to dispel the concern from his face.

In case it wasn’t, you quipped, “You’ve already done more than your fair share of cleaning tonight, I think. Thanks again for that, by the way. I ran out bandages, so…”

Your sentence petered out when you finally looked up and locked eyes with Yoongi. His expression was indecipherable and, only for a moment, it made your hurried hands stop moving.

“So, I’m glad you came in,” You finished through an exhale, quiet to the point that it was hardly audible. You hoped he heard you, though, as loudly and clearly as you meant it.

Straightening up, you dropped your bar rag into the “dirty shit” bucket underneath the counter. You quickly wiped your hands against your jeans, laughed with no real joy behind it, and hid your wobbling voice behind a poorly imitated French accent, “Et voilà.”

Yoongi was still staring, still unreadable. For a few moments, you simply looked at one another. Neither one of you made a sound — at least, nobody spoke. There were gears grinding in his head, judging by the look on his face, and you swore you could hear them from across the bar.

“I guess I should — um,” Yoongi eventually muttered as he gestured to the door. He briefly glanced at it, but you doubted that he registered what he was looking at.

Oddly, it wasn’t awkwardness that seemed to have him short-circuiting — not as far as you could tell. It was like his brain was moving faster than it could form words, leaving his mouth open with nothing to say.

You nodded. You knew where he was going with this, and you didn’t want to prolong whatever he was so visibly toiling with.

“Yeah, of course,” You squeaked. Somewhere, the world’s tiniest violin began to play as the corner of your mouth hitched up. “I’ll see you around, I hope?”

Then, Yoongi’s gaze dropped to the phone in his hand. If he heard your question, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, deep in thought, he mumbled, “I need to — fuck, okay —” Urgently, he looked back up at you and said firmly, “I’ll call.”

He dashed out the door before you realized the problem with his plan: he had no way to call you.

You’d been so caught up in each other that you never thought to exchange phone numbers. Not only was he now gone, but he hadn’t actually said goodbye.

Seems kind of fitting that yours is the only fairytale without a happy ending, huh?

You occupied the borderline between being a hopeless romantic and a masochist, so you immediately decided that, if you ran, you might catch him before he was truly gone.

Kiss him or kick him, it didn’t matter — you just couldn’t let it end like this.

You skirted around the bar and darted to the door, throwing it open and shocking the bell above it. You were already out on the sidewalk before it had the chance to chime. It was the only sound, and it echoed through otherwise dead air.

Similarly, you were the only person on the street. Judging by the dark windows lining the road, you were the only proof of life in that little corner of Seoul. The lack of visible stars was likely due to light pollution, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they dipped out on you, too.

No matter how many times you looked up and down the street, Yoongi didn’t appear. So, you closed your eyes like an idiot, and wished on a star you couldn’t see that he’d be there when you re-opened them. Standing on the other side of the street, laughing, and asking how you’d missed him on your thirty previous scans.

But he wasn’t.

Yoongi had disappeared like smoke right through your fingers; exiting your night as abruptly as he’d entered it.

You weren’t inclined to stand on the sidewalk all night, stunned by your complete failure to see the plot for what it was. You slipped from the sidewalk, through the front door, and locked it behind you. And once you did, you stood there with your hand on the deadbolt for several moments — just in case.

When no one came to knock, you turned all the lights out and flipped the sign in the front window from open to closed. From there, you made your way to the back of the storage room. Finally reaching the stairwell door in the far corner, you unlocked it slowly like the wait would make a difference.

As you climbed the three flights to your apartment’s entrance, the night’s events formed a whirlpool in your mind. The playback settled it: there was simply no way that you were this wrong — not about this.

Clearly, you weren’t clairvoyant to the extent that Yoongi seemed to be. You hadn’t seen it coming when you nearly fell backwards off the bar, but he did. He’d kept his hand close all night like he sensed you’d need it. Just like he sensed every rock, paper, and scissor.

Even still, it felt like a premonition every time you turned to look at him at the same time he did; and you couldn’t put a finger on it.

That something was more than simply chatting with a person stuck in your close proximity — more than commiserating and drinking simultaneously. That was the nature of your job: circumstantial friendship. Not uncommon, not designed to last beyond last call.

This, though? Cosmic interfere or craziness, maybe, but not nothing. You weren’t superstitious and you didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but the odds of all of this had to be shockingly low.

It felt cinematic, in a way, or straight out of a dream. You would have believed it either way if the pinch of your fingers on your forearm didn’t debunk both theories. It was all too perfectly timed to be a coincidence, though, you knew that much.

Out of all the nights you’d worked at this bar — and all the years he’d been a customer — this was the one time your paths had crossed. And when they finally did, he found you right when you needed him. The same, you hoped, could be said for him.

Too Much meeting Not Enough, proving perfect balance. It was just right, but the ending didn’t fit.

Sure, he knew where to find you — but that was assuming he wanted to. With his quick and wordless departure, your confidence in that assumption wavered as you unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside.

The ball’s over, Cinderella. Sorry about your shoe.

When his third call went to voicemail, Yoongi was ready to launch his phone down the alley.  

There was no fucking way that Seokjin — of all people — was asleep already. This could not be the night that he turned off whatever game he was playing and went to bed at a reasonable hour. Seokjin was rarely reasonable. As it turned out, he wasn’t reachable, either. 

Yoongi growled, kicking the nearby dumpster. He thought that some explosion of physical activity might take the focus off his anxiety, but it didn’t — it just made his foot hurt. 

“Fuck!”

He didn’t even want to make the plans he was now trying desperately to reschedule. He didn’t like fishing; he liked his friend, and his friend liked fishing. So, Yoongi agreed to share the cost of renting a boat that he would have to leave at five o’clock in the morning to catch.

If it's 00:17 now, I have three hours and forty-three minutes until —

The unexpected chiming of his phone stopped Yoongi’s pacing before he could wear a trench into the concrete. “Finally!” 

“Do you always yell at people instead of greeting them?” Seokjin scoffed. As expected, Yoongi could hear some sort of video game blaring in the background.

Typical.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry, but I'm not going to make it back in time. Can we re-schedule this fishing thing?”

Yoongi felt awful for having to ask in the first place, but he felt even worse as he anticipated Seokjin’s reaction. Yoongi swallowed disappointment and stewed in it. Seokjin was quite the opposite, and Yoongi didn’t want to ruin his night. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, he did not get yelled at the way he expected to. Instead, he got Seokjin’s juvenile, sing-song voice directed right into his ear, “Ooh, staying with Hyunjoo, are we?” 

Yoongi, having completely lost the plot, paused for a moment before asking, “Who?” 

“What?” 

Oh, fuck, was that her name? It’d slid out of his brain the second that abuse slid out of her mouth.

Quick to avoid that conversation, Yoongi sputtered, “I’ll give you the story tomorrow, hyung, but I really need to go. Can we push the fishing thing to another day?"

“Oh, I forgot to book the boat, so don’t worry about it!” Seokjin cheered and Yoongi was this close to following through with chucking his phone like a grenade. “Have fun with —” 

Not inclined to wait another second, Yoongi hung up and turned to sprint up the alley towards the bar’s entrance. When he reached it and found the lights out, he skidded to a stop so forcefully that he almost fell over. What the fuck? He tugged at the door handle just to make sure he wasn’t missing something. 

Didn’t he tell you he was going to make a phone call? 

Fuck! He'd said I'll call. He didn't say that he was going to call Seokjin, and he sure as shit hadn't clarified that he was going to do so right that second. There'd been no explanation, no “please wait because I promise I’m coming right back for you" — just a mad dash out the door to get rid of the only thing standing between him and more time with you. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Yoongi never indulged in unadulterated rage because he decided a long time ago that it took more effort than it was worth. In that moment, though, he felt the overwhelming urge to punch himself right in the face. How did he fuck it all up this badly?

Instead, Yoongi scrubbed his hands over his face and begged his brain to figure out a better plan. He couldn’t just call you because he was too busy making googly eyes at you to ask for your number. He couldn’t pick the lock because it was illegal — and because he didn’t know how.

Unable to do anything else, Yoongi threw his head back with every intention of screaming at the sky. But before he could let his frustration rip out of his mouth, he saw it: his saving grace. 

Mere moments after he sprinted up the alley, Yoongi was tearing back down it like his life depended on it. The end of the iron emergency ladder sat too high off the ground for him to comfortably reach it, but — thankfully — he had garbage at his disposal. Without a second thought, he stacked whatever semi-sturdy trash he could find to bridge the gap between him and your fire escape. 

With all the strength and recklessness of a lovestruck teenager, Yoongi threw his twenty-four-year-old body upwards and grabbed hold of the nearest rung.

Maybe you overestimated that strength a little bit, eh, Yoongi?

He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up enough to swing a leg up, too. Groaning triumphantly, he hooked the bottom of his shoe on the lowest rung. 

From there, it was easy enough to reach the first landing. When it came time for Yoongi to tackle the other two, he picked up the pace — and he didn’t give a shit about how sore he’d be tomorrow. 

Finally, finally, finally, he reached his destination. Unfortunately, that fleeting moment of relief was replaced by fear as he stooped down to knock on your window. Staring back at him through the darkness was a pair of big, yellow eyes.

Yoongi shouted as he stumbled away from the window. He knocked over a planter on his way down, landing on his ass with a crash and a grunt. Adding insult to injury, that black cat looked positively smug as it stared down at him.  

It was quiet when you called out — in English — from another room. “Toph, did you break something? I thought we talked about this, bub." As your voice grew closer, you switched to Korean, "You can't ruin my stuff until you start contributing to this household.”

What's the incubation period for lovesickness?

Yoongi heard footsteps headed towards whatever room he’d failed to break and enter. He saw the light as it flicked on, and then he saw you — wearing a fluffy, tan headband with little, round ears at the top —with a bare face glistening as if you’d just finished tending to it.

Oh, fuck. Is lovesickness terminal? 

If your eyes opened any wider, they might’ve fallen right out of your skull. They would’ve landed where Yoongi did — in the mass grave of pepper sprouts he’d just outright annihilated. But they stayed beautiful where they belonged, and you simply gawked at each other. 

Yoongi spoke first despite not thinking first. “Toph? Like, Beifong?” 

Your shock gave way to the biggest, brightest smile and Yoongi was thankful it didn’t blind him. If it did, he would’ve missed the way your cheeks went pink to match the tips of your ears. Whatever the shade, it was his new favorite color.

Just bury me in this potting soil, doll. I'm dead. 

“Yoongi,” You started with a giggle that turned into a hum when you pursed your lips and tilted your head. Your eyes narrowed and then you asked, “Any reason why you chose the fire escape over the door?” 

The what? 

Sensing his confusion, you leaned out the window and pointed. Yoongi’s eyes followed the invisible line from your fingertip until they located an awning, which sat mere meters away from his impromptu stepstool made of trash.  

Inwardly, he winced. Outwardly, he turned to you with a lopsided smile. “I was checking out your little garden."

Yoongi cleared his throat, now wincing outwardly, “And, uh — then I killed it, a little bit. I promise I’ll replace everything as soon as the shops open. I am so —” 

“Cold? I bet,” You interrupted with a smirk, “Come inside then, Min Yoongi. Just don’t break the window too, alright?” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Immediately, he was on his feet, furiously dusting potting soil off the back of his legs. When he suspected that he’d gotten it all, Yoongi turned around and glanced at you over his shoulder. Even without a question, you knew what he was asking; you signaled okay with your fingers and a giggle. 

With more care than he’d ever shown in his life, Yoongi crawled through the gap you created when you ducked back through the window. Once he had his feet underneath him again, he quickly toed off his shoes and plucked them off the tile.

As soon as he was upright again, you took his wrist in your hand — oh god, your skin is so criminally soft — and led him through your kitchen to the living room. 

Gently, you set his shoes down on the mat beside your front door. Then, you turned back around to gaze up at him. Looking at that face of yours, Yoongi forgot every word he’d ever learned. It was just his hammering heart beating in time with yours, until: 

“So, this is where I live.”

You were close enough that Yoongi could smell the toothpaste on your breath when you spoke, but still too far. You must’ve thought so, too, because you shifted your weight to your other foot and wound up slightly nearer to him. 

Yoongi hummed in reply, though he could barely hear it over his pulse pounding in his ears, “It’s nice.”

He didn’t actually know if that was the case because he’d spent every second so far staring at you, but he had faith that you’d prove him right.

More quiet, more anticipation disguised as quickening breaths.

Like a magnet, you drew him in. Yoongi echoed every tiny move you made towards him until the distance was gone; and he could feel the heat of your body mere centimeters from his.

This close, he could see flecks of gold in your irises that he hadn’t noticed before. Yoongi knew he shouldn't have been surprised. If he'd learned a single thing tonight it was that hidden treasures were par for the course with you.

“Yoongi.” 

It was baffling how you could sound so shy, even with desire blowing your pupils wide. Just as confounding was the fact that Yoongi knew, without question, that you felt it, too — that this new and perfect something was the start of everything.

“Please, just kiss me already.” 

That wasn’t an opportunity he’d ever expect to turn down. 

You were already breathless, weightless, and floating in fucking space when you finally crossed over the threshold into your bedroom.

Because, fuck, that man took your oxygen with him whenever his lips left yours. Without even trying, he’d fashioned himself into a ventilator that you really might suffocate without.  

Thankfully, whenever he pulled away, he didn’t stray far. Even as you both stumbled towards your unmade bed, tripping over obstacles — up to and including Toph, whose favorite spot was between your ankles — there was always one hand on your hip and another lacing fingers through your hair. 

As you moved, you couldn’t help thinking of the leftovers you’d brought home from work before. All single-use encounters, wastes of time that you normally didn’t care to recall. Though he may end up being the last, Yoongi wasn’t the first person to have you in this position.

He was, however, the only person to rescind his tongue just to comment on the tiny, design details of your shit-box apartment. 

“How did you —” He paused to moan into your mouth when your teeth gently claimed his bottom lip. “Find a place with — oh, fuck, you taste like spearmint – original crown-molding in this —” The back of his knees bumped into the edge of your mattress and suddenly, he was sitting. “Neighborhood?” 

There was no way you could ever explain Min Yoongi’s duality. He was unequivocally, fatally hot — and simultaneously, he was the most endearing, grandfatherly person you’d ever encountered. Somehow, this mind-boggling man turned architectural factoids into dirty talk.

You might orgasm on the spot if he brought up your built-ins, and you didn’t know or care what that said about you as a person. 

“I’ll show you the blueprints later if you want,” you giggled while Yoongi ‘s cheeks flushed. Before he could find a reason to feel embarrassed, you tilted his chin up in order to kiss him properly. As you did, you murmured against his lips, “But if you take those jeans off, there’s something else I’d like to show you first.” 

Your little finger was near to his throat as you held his chin captive, so you felt it when it when he growled. Against your knuckle, in your chest, and in that growing ache in between your thighs. There was roughness in him that you’d only seen snippets of, but you’d bet that you could pull it out if you tried.  

Maybe not now while you were both masking nerves, but eventually. 

When Yoongi made to stand, you backed up to give him room to do so. You were already on your knees when his belt came off, unbuttoning his jeans before the leather even hit the floor. As you pulled that zipper down — slowly and carefully — you glanced up at him from under your lashes and watched the breath catch in his chest. 

It wasn’t the first time you noticed how fucking beautiful he was; in fact, that thought had been looping through your mind all night. But there was something new in his expression as he observed you taking his cock into your hand.

Something reverent, like he believed he should be the one on their knees.

A few languid, kitten licks at the tip, and his eyelids fluttered. They screwed shut entirely as you ran the flat of your tongue along the vein underneath. When your mouth finally enveloped him fully, his head drooped backwards as he groaned. 

Your name would never sound better than it did exhaled from Yoongi’s chest. 

More often than not, fellatio felt like an obligation. A quid pro quo, you always figured, though none of them kept up their end of the deal. But with Yoongi buried in the wet heat of your mouth, it was a gift you might never get tired of giving. Every breathy moan and involuntary twitch felt like a prize — and still, neither came close to the way it felt when he looked at you. 

In those fleeting moments when he could focus, of course. 

“I’m fucking dreaming,” Yoongi groaned, bringing his hands up and scrubbing them over his face. “Shit. Perfect figment of my imagination, that’s the only explanation for you. Where the fuck have you been my whole life?” 

You hummed as you let him slip out of your mouth. In turn, it prompted a flurry of expletives to slip out of his. Tracing a feather-light line from hilt to head, you smirked up at him, “Waiting at a bar for you to show up, Min Yoongi. You sure did take your time.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” He laughed, “I already plan to regret that for the next — I don't know — forever?”

He dropped his hands from over his eyes and held them out to you. “Come here, angel. You’re too far away.” 

As soon as you were back on your feet, Yoongi enveloped you in the warmth of his arms. You were halfway to melting when he kissed you; dead and gone when he laid you back against the mattress; and downright astral projecting when the weight of his body was added to yours.  

Not to be dramatic, but is heaven a place on Earth? 

With your head resting comfortably on the pillow, you gazed up at Yoongi as he addressed the tied waistband of your sweatpants. It wasn’t until that knot came undone that you realized: if he’d come home with you earlier — before you’d swapped out your street clothes for shapeless knits — he would’ve had a prettier present to unwrap.  

Lace over your hip bones instead of cotton briefs. A black, balconette bra that made your tits into something worth looking at; not lackluster bareness that barely registered under your paint-stained t-shirt.  

Unintentionally mimicking him, you covered your face with your hands to conceal the way you were blushing. You didn’t even dare to peek through your fingers at him while he dragged your sweatpants down over your legs.

That is, not until you heard the world’s softest chuckle and it hit you like a bus. 

“Pretty girl,” Yoongi hummed. He left a chaste kiss on the top of your left thigh, and you whimpered. So sweet, so brief that your skin still tingled when he moved to mirror that kiss on your right thigh. “Where’d you go, baby?” 

Baby.  

That settled it. Min Yoongi was trying to kill you.

Nobody kissed you that carefully, not ever. No man, no woman, no one in between or beyond spoke to you that softly; turned you to putty in their hands with gentleness alone. Not like he did.

You were going to love him — you already knew it — and that stupid, four-letter word just sealed your fate. There wasn’t a single thing that you could do to prevent it, even if you wanted to. So, your options were limited to one:

Leaning into the fall. 

You reached out with the hand that once covered your face and grabbed him by the shirt to pull him closer. Once he was within range, with the tip of his nose bumping into yours, you stared him dead in the eye and told him just how badly you needed him inside of you. 

It took no time at all for the two of you to cast aside what remained of your clothing. Hand-me-downs mingled with designer items that exceeded the cost of your rent, and you didn’t give a fuck. You discarded your inhibitions in that heap, too, sitting up on your knees as he rolled a condom down his length. 

Yoongi’s return to you was marked by his hands cupping your face. He kissed you until you were no longer breathless, until you felt the rush of air filling your lungs. You followed his lead back down to the mattress where he rested on his side; and without any need for instruction, you draped your right leg over his hip. 

It was the closet you’d been to him, but it still wasn’t close enough 

“Is this okay?” Yoongi broke the kiss just to look at you.  

The fondness in his eyes was competing with concern, but that didn’t surprise you. Considerate to a fault, he’d no doubt been thrown for a loop when you went from zero to one hundred in merely half a second. “I can —” 

Oh, I bet you can.  

But you couldn’t wait. Impatient, through and through — and thoroughly dripping — you shook your head.

Your hand left its place on his bare bicep and dipped down to wrap around his cock. There were two individual heartbeats hammering in sync as you guided him to your cunt, though it sounded a lot like one. 

“Like you said earlier,” You sighed as he pushed into you. “Just right.” 

Six years later...

tagging: @mgthecat @jihopesjoint @jaejoontrashpanda @taebaelove @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @yoongiphoria @sstarryoong @xcherrywaltz @btschimeyplanet @persphonesorchid @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @goodsoop @jkoofier (couldn't tag)

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likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

a/n: holy shit. just, holy shit. i've spent less time on literal thesis papers than i did on this. i'm so thankful for everyone who blew up darksided and blindsided — i really hope this provides context for how these two got together, and how tf they love each other that much. i will not apologize for the sexual cliffhanger because this smut wasn't going to be included, initially! this was going to end at the bar, lol.

also, this is an ode to those very special (very impermanent) nights with someone new that feel like perfect lifetimes in just the span of a few hours. in my experience, they never went anywhere (which i think made them more special, in hindsight) but i wanted to write a fic where things didn't stop there.

anyways, i'm very tired of writing words now, so please enjoy and let me know what you think 🫶🏻

[natspookie]

muse

photographer!natasha x painter!reader

an, short one!! i thought i wrote this already that’s why it’s so late 😭 my apologies, anon

“honey you’ll be late” natasha rasped from your bed. “i know! but i can’t find my favorite pencil” you were scavenging all over around you and natasha’s dorm.

you both were in your 3rd year of uni and were forever dorm mates. natasha’s girls coming over seemed to slow down the more you spent time together. the next thing you both knew, you were out on a date and now dating for 2 years.

“the pencil, here?” natasha reached over to your side table with a short pencil in the air. “yes! thank you! love you, bye!” you kissed natasha before rushing out the door, leaving her as she chuckled at your antics.

natasha decided she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep as you weren’t beside her anymore. her first class was in an hour so she decided to get ready as well.

you both got back home to your dorms in time for dinner. alternating who was buying the food, it was natasha’s turn tonight.

“honeyy i’m homee” you sung, shutting the door to see natasha setting down some chinese food. “yeah honey.. get your shoes off” natasha smiled, sitting down on the bed, getting ready for movie night. “ugh chinese u love you, i’m going to shower! gimmie a sec” you rushed to the bathroom

when you came back, of course, james bond was paused. “james bond is very fine” you mumbled, sitting beside natasha, digging into the chinese rolls.

natasha mumbled a ‘mhm’ and you realized she held a jealous look at the man. “but, of course, he doesn’t compare to my super duper cool and pretty and amazing girlfriend” you grabbed natasha’s faced and smothered her with kisses till her face was as red as the chinese packaging.

the movie played in the background as you and natasha talked about each other’s day. “i got this new assignment to photograph a subject and i was wondering if.. if it could be you?” natasha said shyly

“of course!! as long as you’ll be my next painting” you nudged her “let me think about it” natasha joked, making a thinking face as you laughed at her “i would love to” she whispered against your face.

the next day, you and natasha both made time for each other’s projects.

natasha drove you to the closest beach and got your favorite ice cream. you both sat in the sand as the sun was setting and natasha took it upon herself to take the photos candid.

“did you know principal fury is dating someone” you licked your ice cream “mhm” “and he got his eyepatch from a cat?” “mhm” “nat- oh” you turned to see her adjusting her lenses as she took photos of you. “Natty!! I thought it was going to be a more formal photo!” You immediately put your hand to your face to wipe some ice cream at the bottom of your chin.

“Yeah I got some ideas for that too” natasha smirked as you nudged her. “c’mon let me take reference photos of you now” you held your hands out for her camera and she gave it to you. “what do i press?” “this button” She moved your finger over to a circular button sticking out.

you bit your ice cream cone in between your mouth as natasha fixed her hair but you made the photos candid as well.

“I’m read- dekta…i’m deleting those” you set the camera down on the mat “no! if you delete themm…. um… you-you- you’re taking advantage that i dont know how to work a camera! don’t you wanna be fair” natasha laughed, shaking her head.

“okay dekta”

“can you really not delete them though?” “of course, my muse”