#which is still dumb because older things are worth the time but hey at least this show got finished as intended

[no1ryomafan]

My ass needs to be in bed but I was looking at my anilist-yes I have one as it’s super helpful to keep track of anime I’ve watched + plan to watch-since i finished big o s1 they separated s2 as a different thing and WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN INTERNATIONAL VIEWINGS BASICALLY SAVED THE SHOW FROM ENDING ON A CLIFFHANGER??

[jostepherjoestar]

Maybe Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Leone friendship HCs with a fem friend thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, she is just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid she is. So basically a smol sweet dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like she just runs up to them saying she want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but she looks so happy xjsbkss 💖

Pure of heart, dumb of ass fem!friend with Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Abbacchio HC’s

sfw // fem reader

lemme just say, reader is baby and that’s valid 🥰this is so adorably pure ugh ya done killed me anon 🥺💖✨(can very much relate tho, glad my friends put up with my dumb antics)

Jotaro:

“Why am I friends with you again? Yare yare...” A phrase you’ll hear every time you’re hanging out with this tall bastard. He’ll tease you for being a bit of a dumbass but is incredibly drawn to how kind, sweet and absolutely thoughtful you are.

You remind him of Josuke and Okuyasu which only makes him like you even more. And the added cuteness-factor made him admit to himself he does indeed love cute things, no matter how adamantly he denies it to you.

His favourite thing to do is bring you along to the beach for field research, knowing just how wide eyed and giddy you get when you’re allowed to collect shells and rocks or even poke a jellyfish. You seem very good at spotting irregularities in your surroundings, making quite the good assistant to Dr. Kujo.

You’re even allowed to help with lab research, studying petri dishes filled with algae as you excitedly point out a very important detail he hadn’t noticed yet, too tired from working such long hours. Sometimes you’re quite the genius without even trying.

More than anything he loves the amount of lightness you bring to his life, his studies and general headspace take a large toll on him. Any relief is a welcome one.

He’ll often find himself smiling at the thought of hanging out again, staring at the collection of trinkets he keeps in a cute little Hello Kitty box you once gave him, which rests on his nightstand as a reminder that it can’t hurt to adapt your lifestyle of mindless giddy; even just the tiniest bit.

Risotto:

Being close friends with Risotto seems a bit impossible without being in his squad, he’s very insistent at keeping outsiders of Passione more than an arm-length away. Good thing that the stoic man is your capo, phew!

He’s apprehensive at first, not really sure why the soft round pebble you brought him reminded you of the man as he studied the mineral, admiring its softness. “It’s like you! Soft and worn down, but very sturdy and unbreakable.” smiling sweetly at him, excitedly awaiting a response.

What was this new feeling of being appreciated and cared for? Risotto’s never really experienced a friendship so pure. He’ll quietly thank you for the pebble and keeps it on his desk, staring in awe as he’s reminded of your kind words every time he spots it.

He knows the others like to tease you for not always being aware of general human knowledge, shooting them an intense glare as a warning to keep any rude comments or jokes to themselves.

Your friendship consists of him mostly listening to you, quietly taking in all the stories you divulge- so full of excitement, telling him facts you picked up somewhere; the source of these often containing varying levels of credibility. He won’t correct you though. (unless it’s something that might actually endanger you)

He values your friendship so.much. He’s not used to being treated so kindly, receiving random gifts, being praised for a job well done, having someone who doesn’t judge him in the slightest. He’ll do whatever he needs to keep you safe, from others and yourself, along with trying to return your kindness and care. (he tries his best and it’s so cute)

(you guys hold hands for safety when you’re out in the city... just saying, it’s adorable)

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto has a chronic case of “caring older brother disease”. Will need to hold himself back from tying your shoelaces for you, the man knows you can do it it yourself but it’s just taking sooo long.

Just like Risotto, you’d have to be a team member to get close to him in any way. Good thing he recruited you ;)

It’s a bit hard to make him open up about anything personal. You feel like he knows everything about you, while you barely know a thing. When he sees your pouty lip and begging gaze that is way too cute to deny, he’ll cave. Perhaps finally realising it’s alright to lean on others.

He’ll still struggle with continuing the openness, but find relief in your loyalty and understanding. The way you intently listen to his troubles, there to hold his hand if he ever needs it, it makes his heart hurt to know how sweet and gentle you are.

Will keep you and Pesci separate during missions, he’s already getting a migraine from imaging everything that could go wrong without his guidance.

For someone who’s a little more on the dense side, you make up for it in emotional intelligence. Whenever you see how stressed he tends to get, eye twitching without even realising while his shoulders hunch together in discomfort, you come over to hug him. It’s something he had to get used to, the small gesture always calming him down enough to keep going.

Does not appreciate you slipping cute trinkets in his suit pocket. Especially not after finding a snail that one time. You’ve been forbidden from leaving pocket gifts since the incident.

Bruno:

It concerns Bruno just how clueless you can be from time to time. That one time they almost left you behind on a busy station with no cellphone because you found a coin on the ground made him realise you need some extra supervision.

He’s not the type to hold you back from doing things that are guaranteed to result in disaster (unless it’s literally deadly), he wants you to experience the consequences of your own actions.

You do make him hold back his laughter when you try out a stupid idea you know has failed in the past, but change your methods slightly to hope for better results. And you know what? Now he’s curious too.

The man has a weird sense of humour that sometimes even surprises you. He’ll copy your habit of picking up strange trinkets or rocks and asks you to compare findings with him. Like trading marbles, he’ll barter with a smirk.

“Mhh, if you give me that cute shell and that pointy rock... I’ll give you this keychain.” His alluring offer making you question if you’re getting swindled or not. “Hey! That shell is at least worth two stickers!” He’ll heartily laugh at your reply, a mischievous smile while thinking over the trade. “Ok, two stickers and a pebble then.”

With a firm handshake the deal goes through. The rest of the gang never knows how to respond, staring in amazement as their grown-ass capo barters with their grown-ass teammate. He loves being silly with you and forgetting all the pressures of life for just a moment.

Bruno takes his time opening up to you, but finds your presence so comforting it becomes very easy to trust you. As a vital part of his team he finds it important to be able to lean on each other for support and is glad you offer him just as much trust and loyalty.

Abbacchio:

Will never admit he can’t live without you anymore. You’ve become the shining beacon of assumed happiness the man never thought existed. He knows you won’t always be go-lucky and have your own troubles and struggles but admires how you handle them.

Don’t get me wrong, he’ll still gladly tease you for your occasional (well, more like frequent) stupidity. He’ll let you know with a big huff you should smarten up; “Read a book that doesn’t have pictures in it for once.”

He’ll be the first to correct any wrong info you’ve been given, unless he thinks it’s funny. Like when Mista made you believe you needed to order dessert at Libeccio or they’ll kick you out for breaking their beloved rule. It’s only when he saw the panic in your eyes when you finished your main course one day -too full for any sweets to come- that he assured you it was a dumb joke. (he’ll put all the blame on Mista)

Abbacchio seems to tether to people who have a positive influence on him without even realising, it won’t be obvious to him, but just like with his loyalty and admiration for Bruno, he’ll make sure you know it once he finds out.

Not that it’s a bad thing, his need to cling to anything that might help him stay afloat just needs to stay healthy. You didn’t even realise your effect on him, you were too busy trying to figure out a way to turn that scowl into that smirk.

After gifting him a handmade friendship bracelet that had the shortened versions of your names spelled on it, he hugged you. So tightly it was suffocating, you were shocked since he’s never been the touchy type. “Leone! I can’t breathe...” He’ll let go after the complaint but that look on his face will never leave your memory. The face of being loved unconditionally by choice, no matter how unworthy he might think himself of it.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Alone Together

Summary: After an awful breakup you were expecting to spend Christmas alone. You and Steve end up spending it together.

Pairings: tattoo artist!Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson sister!reader. Abusive ex boyfriend!Brock Rumlow x reader

Warning: mentions of abusive relationship, smut, swearing, daddy kink, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex

Tagging: @titty-teetee @blackmissfrizzle @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @harrysthiccthighss @mariahthelioness29 @whiskey-cokenfanfic @olyvoyl @hqneyyincc @queenoftheworldisdead @iam-laiya @donutloverxo @slytherinandoutasgard @zaddychris @brattycherubwrites @love-more122

(A/N: yay I made it! Merry Christmas guys! Reblog always 💜 ✌🏾)

——————————————————————————

Okay yeah so it was stupid. You should have known better when you’d done it. Well, you did you just... well you don’t really know what you were thinking.

Red flags just look like flags when you’re wearing rose colored glasses, yeah fuck off you stole that from Bojack. So when you were with your ex and doing all this dumb just you thought would make him happy it ended up being kind of awful in the end.

When they finally came off you noticed the things you dealt with. Scared to piss him off so you started treating okay times like they were really good. All the stupid things he had you do to prove yourself.

You were paying for this one right now. Right in another parlor. Covering up that mistake with something you actually liked. Not that most people could see it because it was on your underboob. Said he wanted it to be this hidden thing all for him that no one else was allowed to see.

The first time he asked you’d laughed and said no thinking it was a joke. The second time you it happened you tried to be a little more firm. Except that just meant you couldn’t prove your love for him. That you were devoted. That he’d get a tattoo for you on his arm that he never had time to get for some reason.

It was so fucking dumb you know. The cursive Brock tattooed right under your boob. You could see it every time you took your shirt off and it really bothered you. It always had, but you were trying to convince yourself that you loved him before. Now you looked at it and saw the new of a person you wished you’d never even met.

Steve was your older brother’s best friend. He ran this super popular tattoo shop. They’d met in the military and the friendship just stuck. It’s kind of why you ended up moving to New York. You were kind of the outcast of the family, but Sam never treated you any different. You were his baby sister.

So after a few weeks you asked him if he could cover it up. Except his only available day was Christmas Eve. You didn’t go home anyway and Sam was going to meet his girlfriend’s parents this year. Not that you weren’t invited, but you just wanted this thing covered up. Maybe that would make you forget.

You winced as the needle dug into your skin. Not like it wasn’t worth the pain. “Hey, relax, okay,” he said, softly rubbing your arm. He’d been so much help since the breakup. It was funny. Brock hated him. Was always ranting about what an asshole he is. You could tell he didn’t like your brother either. You really didn’t know what but you knew it was something over their friend Bucky or whatever.

Yeah it was a whole thing. Not that you really knew the details.

Normally you’d spend the holidays with his family. Though a little uncomfortable it was nice being with him. So this was your first year in three that you were alone. Hanging with Steve was nice.

“I’m fine,” you were trying to keep a brave face.

He was almost done. Just had to finish up the shading. Honestly you’d been expecting him being that close to you to feel weird, but it was actually nice. It’d just be nice if you didn’t date another tattoo artist.

Yeah Brock also tattooed. He’d met Steve because they’d worked at the same shop once. You remember how Brock was seething when he found out that Steve had opened his own.

You wish you could go back in time and tell Leila to never go into that damn shop. To never ask you to go with her because she was nervous for her first tattoo. Somehow it ended up with Brock promising you a discount if you let him tattoo you if you gave him your number. Being a cliche you got a butterfly on your shoulder.

Somehow it didn’t bother you as much. Maybe because it didn’t look like anything resembling him.

“You sure? We can take a break,” he offered.

You shook your head. “No. I’m okay.” You chuckled with a smile.

He chuckled before clicking his tongue. “Alright. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“How’s your mom’s trip?” You asked. His mother had decided to vacation to Hawaii with his step-dad. Which is also why he was here. Not that he couldn’t have went with Nat and Bucky to his parent’s house. Except last time he’d done that, he ended up having to sleep next to Bucky’s incredibly touchy aunt. He was better off spending it alone.

“She’s great. Talked to her this morning.” He chuckled, “apparently she’s bringing me back a Hawaiian shirt.”

“You could pull it off.” You replied trying not to laugh too much.

“You think so?” He asked.

“Yeah just keep it unbuttoned and don’t wear a shirt under.”

He stopped to laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“I dunno. Just doing a service for the girls,” you said. “Don’t act like you don’t know that you’re cute.”

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes. “Why Miss. Wilson, you’re not flirting with me are you?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No. Just... stop. You know you’re hot.”

His jaw dropped as he grin. “Now you think I’m hot?”

You sighed dramatically. “Look, Steve. I’m just joking.”

He went back to work with this kind of goofy look on his face. You couldn’t deny it. Steve is hot. Anyone with eyes could see that. Your eyes traced along his tattooed forearms. The sleeves of his flannel pushed up to elbows. Until you were distracted by his broad shoulders.

Your mind finally started to relax. Kind of enjoying the buzzing of the gun. You kind of missed that sound you loved going to the shop with a Brock while he worked.

Your only days off were weekends and since he usually had shit to do on those days, you’d be there while he worked. Sometimes even helping out when their secretary was out.

“And, done,” he said taking a deep breath and smiling down at his work before turning off the machine. “How you feelin?’” He grabbed your hand to help you to your feet.

“Well, a little sore, but good.”

You turned to look at it. Smiling at the flowers that were there now. “It’s beautiful,” you said, looking at Steve before throwing your arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey,” he pulled away to rub your arms, “I got you.”

He was so close, eyes trained on your lips. So you started wondering maybe this was why Brock hated Steve. Saw how magnetic he was that he could definitely pull you in.

That couldn’t have been it, though. Brock never saw you with him alone. His dislike went much deeper than you. Today had kind of added insult to injury. Not only did you cover up that thing, but he was the one to do it. It’d be a slap in the face.

Maybe that’s why you did it. Except you’d always liked Steve’s work. You’d seen so many pieces he did or sketches he made and had wanted him to work on you for the longest. Maybe next time it would be something you didn’t need to cover up.

Your phone went off and you groaned softly pulling away. “Hey, Sam,” you greeted your brother. Of course it had to be him of all people.

Looking back over at his best friend who was cleaning up the station now. It was probably a good thing because your heart had started to thump in your chest. You didn’t need that.

You raised your shirt up so you could see it finally. “Just calling to check up on you. Steve’s lazy ass taking a break? I don’t hear buzzing in the back.”

“We just finished actually.” You laughed.

“How’d it come out?”

“Good,” you answered. “Tell Maya I said hi.”

You finished talking to Sam before finally hanging up. When you finally looked at your new tattoo, a smile grew on your face. It looked so much better than before. “Like it?” Steve asked.

“I love it,” you replied. You grabbed your bag so you could pay him.

“Um, excuse me, Miss,” he said. “Your money is no good here.”

“What? I’m not going to have you do all this work and not pay you, Stevie.”

He sighed. “Think of it as a Christmas present.”

You rolled your eyes still taking your money out. “I can’t-“

“I’m not taking it,” he pressed.

“Fine at least let me give you a tip.”

“I’m not taking that either.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes. For such a nice boy he was always so stubborn. “Fine. Then... dinner. I’ll make dinner. If we’re spending Christmas alone then it might be fun to spend it together.”

He smiled softly. “Yeah... that sounds nice.”

“Great.” You looked into his eyes again. They were like the prettiest blue ever. Especially with those little specks of green.

After a trip to the store, he escorted you back to the apartment you shared with your brother. You could have moved out, but you were kind of afraid to live alone. That’s why Sam had been a little surprised that you’d declined the invitation to go with him. It was nice to have Steve there.

You’d decorated the apartment even though you hadn’t planned to do anything. You still wanted to be a little festive. Maybe it would pull you into a better mood. It worked a little.

You quickly started on dinner. Steve helped by cutting up vegetables. He’d taken off his sweater letting his incredibly muscular tattooed arms taunt you. Okay so yeah you had a little bit of a crush on him. Like a lot of other women, you just liked to look.

“Thanks for dinner,” Steve said, taking a sip of his wine. “I don’t get home cooked meals a lot.”

“Can’t cook?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yeah I’m pretty hopeless at it.” He shrugged.

“So do you want to watch Christmas movies after this?” You asked.

He laughed. “Yeah that’d be nice.”

The night was going by kind of quick as you settled down to watch A Christmas Story. You were a little tipsy honestly, but you and Steve were sharing a fluffy blanket. Which meant he was close.

You’d carefully showered so you didn’t get your tattoo wet and changed into a sweater shirt and s pair of matching shorts. Getting all bundled up so you could curl up beside him. “You look so warm.” He chuckled as he got a little closer.

“Do you need an extra blanket?” You asked.

“No I’m okay,” he replied.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked because the thought had crossed your mind again. This time you’d finally worked up the nerve to ask.

“Why don’t you and Brock like each other?” You asked.

He sighed. “You’re not the first person I’ve had to save from him. He and Bucky used to be close and I noticed him kind of spiraling. Rumlow was pumping him full of all of these drugs and I dunno I didn’t want to lose my friend.”

Your stomach started to turn. This was the first time you’d ever heard of any of this. “Why didn’t any of you tell me?”

“I wanted to, but Sam said we needed to let you make your own mistakes. To not push you away. There were so many times that I thought about... look I just know that I’m never letting him hurt you again. Okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. This glazed over look in your eyes. Steve noticed and pulled you closer pretty much placing you in his lap.

“Hey, it’s okay, Honey.” He rubbed your back. Trying to at least comfort you a little.

“No I’m fine,” you replied leaning into him. The soft fabric of his jeans rubbed against your bare legs. It was nice to have him comfort you like this. “You know I think the worst thing to me is that and I’m sorry if this is too much information, but he’d use Sam against me. Say that if I didn’t do what he wanted he’d tell Sam about the things we did in bed.”

Steve sighed. “You know he wouldn’t have cared.”

“I know, but it still felt embarrassing. He knew how secretive I was about it. None of my friends even know the kind of things I’m into.” You took a deep breath, trying to relax because you felt way more tense than you wanted to.

He chuckled. Trying to lighten the mood. “I get it. I used to be the same way until my last girlfriend put it all out there when we broke up.”

You laughed. “Oh yeah I remember that.”

“Yeah. She was something else.” He tossed his head back as he laughed. “One night she came to the shop, talking about how she’d let me tie her up one more time.”

“Brock used to say stuff like ‘come on, Babygirl, do what Daddy says or else I’ll tell your brother what you’re up to.’ It used to grate on my nerves.”

“God. What a fucking asshole,” he said, hoping you didn’t notice when he felt himself get suddenly hard at hearing you say that.

“Yeah, but I’m so glad this thing is covered.”

“Yeah. Glad I could help,” he said with smile. “Shit do you mind actually if I take a picture of it? For Instagram.”

You nodded. “Yeah that’s fine.”

He took his phone out of his pocket while you laid down across his lap, rolling your sweatshirt up so that it was exposed. “Perfect,” he said as he snapped the picture the flash making you close your eyes all tight, making you move your hand so you could rub your eye.

Making your entire breast become exposed. “Shit,” you said, pushing it back down as you sat back up. Your eyes connected to his again and that’s when he kissed you.

You didn’t hesitate to do it back. Your mouth moving against his ever so softly. Like the two of you were afraid to really do what you want, but also didn’t want to pull away. Until he finally started to deepen it.

You stroked his beard as he held onto you tightly. You came to straddle his lap as he cupped your ass. He started to lay you back.

Your phone interrupted you, making you jump away. You scrambled to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hey. Just checking on you,” Sam’s voice came through.

“Oh. I’m fine, Sam.” You took looked over at Steve who closed his eyes and stood up.

“Is Steve with you?”

“Yeah he walked me home,” you said. “Actually I have to go I’m going to shower.”

“Okay. Text me before bed.”

“Okay.”

Steve was gathering up his things to leave by the time you got off your phone. You watched him move around. He shrugged his coat on. “I’m just gonna head out.”

“Yeah...” you pursed your lips.

He licked his lips. “I, um, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me... I-“

“No. It’s okay,” you replied taking a deep breath. “I’ll walk you out.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

You watched as he walked away heading towards the elevator. You still couldn’t believe that happened. Lips tingling from the way he kissed you. Apart of you was cursing Sam from ruining your moment.

Another part of you was kind of happy that he did because as much as you hated it, Brock still had this hold over you. It wasn’t that you felt guilty. It was more like you were afraid of what would happen if he found out.

God, you wish he didn’t have this hold on you. You were starting to close the door when Steve came back. This time he didn’t stop himself as he kissed you. Or picked you up, kicking the door shut behind him. Didn’t stop himself as he carried you to your room.

He laid you down on your bed, getting on top of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Trying to be as close to him as possible. Fuck he felt so good on top of you.

Scratching at his muscular shoulders. He pulled your top off first. Exposing your tits. His mouth went to them as he tried to avoid your tattoo. He swirled his tongue around your nipple.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you looked down at him. He’d switched to the other one to give it the same treatment. “So fucking beautiful.” He started kissing down your body so he could take off your shorts and panties. He kissed along your thighs, still looking into your eyes as he parted them.

Before he could put his mouth on your pussy, he went back up. Kissing you again. “Is this okay?” He asked resting his forehead to yours.

You nodded, reaching out so you could start undoing the buttons of his flannel. He helped you, pressing his lips to yours again. This time he put his tongue in your mouth.

Kissing him was different than Brock. Steve’s lips seemed to mold with yours better. There was this feeling in the pit of your stomach that felt like it was about to burst, but like you wanted it to. You really shouldn’t be comparing them, but Steve was making you feel so good and you were kicking yourself from having missed out on this as you wasted your time.

He pushed his shirt off his body then undid his pants. Sliding them down his legs along with his underwear. He got back on top for you, kissing your neck. Leaving little nibbles and sucking on your skin like he knew your body already. “Daddy,” you cried out, then sat up when you realized what you said opening your mouth to apologize.

“Oh yeah, Baby. You want me to be your daddy?” He asked, going back between your legs. “Want to be a dirty girl for me only?”

You nodded suddenly feeling drunk off of his words. Never did you think in a million years that Steve would be talking to you like this. He was getting you so wet just from that. He started licking your clit first.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he feasted on you. Pussy juices making a mess on his beard. “Yes,” you gasped out as he started to finger you at the same time.

That same bursting feeling in your stomach was getting intense. You cried out for him as you felt yourself reach your peek. You grabbed his hair, grinding your pussy against his face.

You took a deep breath as you tried to sit up, but he put a hand on your stomach to hold you still. “I’m not done.” He growled. “Hold still while Daddy makes you cum, Honey.”

You nodded bracing yourself as he went back to eating you out. It didn’t take long for him to bring you to another orgasm or another one after that. When he was done he kissed you, making you taste your juices on him.

As you made out again he went back to rubbing your cunt. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he said. “Gonna make you cum over and over again. Gonna take care of you.”

“Oh god yes,” you whimpered.

“Fuck I don’t have any condom,” he said, as he’d started to line himself up with your entrance.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m on birth control.”

He licked his lips. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I want you so bad, Daddy.”

He grinned as he kissed you softly. “I want to know your safe word first, Honey. Just in case.”

“Strawberry.”

He kissed your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips. He pushed into you as your tongues came into contact. Your tongues carassing against each other.

You stretched around him and you started to understand why he’d spent so much time eating you out. Fuck he was thick. You stretched around him looking into his eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered into your lips. “I’ve got you.”

“It’s too much!” You cried.

“You can take it, Honey,” he kissed you again. “Be a good girl and take Daddy’s dick.”

He started fucking into you a little harder. You could feel yourself leaking around his dick. He’d really worked you up first even if he was still too damn thick for your pussy.

You scratched his back, biting his shoulder. He was thrusting so deep. You don’t think you’d ever been fucked this deep before. You’d definetly never been stretched open like this.

“Right there! Don’t stop!” You begged as he started fucking into your spot. “I’m fucking cumming!”

“That’s it, Honey. Cum for me.” He groaned because your pussy was so tight. Especially as you came. You were tightening around him and if he wasn’t so determined to give you a few more he would have let go inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy!” You cried. He didn’t let up. Fucking you through it.

“Nasty girl, squirting for me,” he said getting on his knees so he could watch you.

“Oh god!” You didn’t stop. Your pussy gushing around him. He bent your legs back with his hands on the back of your thighs. Watching his cock all slick anytime he’d pull out only to push back into you.

He chuckled as it happened again. Your eyes all clouded over as you came again just like that last time. More juices squirting out of you.

“Please,” you said, but didn’t know why.

“What do you want me to do, Baby?” He asked.

You couldn’t say anything back because you were to far gone. Thoughts had officially left your head. All you knew was him and the he was fucking you so damn good. Still pressing into your spot.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” he hissed, getting back on top of you with his bicep wrapped around your thigh so he could keep you spread open. He kissed you again this time deeper. Fucking your mouth with his tongue.

You moaned into him and thrusts became to falter as he started to pump you full of his cum. He thrusted into you deep as he gave you every bit of it. Wanting to completely fill you up with him.

He laid on top of you trying to catch his breath. You were panting underneath him. Not even wanting him to move because he was so warm. You buried your head into his neck.

It took you a minute to come down from your highs. He smiled down at you, kissing you softly. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You shook your head, already closing your eyes because you were so comfortable like this. “I’m great.”

He chuckled. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You smiled lazily as he finally rolled off of you. He brought you close to him, kissing your nose again. “Stay with me.”

“There’s literally no other place I’d rather be,” he said.

You’d spent all night messing around. Taking little cat naps in between. Right now he had you on your stomach as he fucked you from behind. You never expected to spend your holiday with him, but now you couldn’t picture spending it with anyone else.

You hadn’t even thought about your ex and the meltdown he’d have if he knew about this. It was nice feeling so free. Especially as Steve’s tattooed arms wrapped around you from behind.

Hints of daylight had started to break through the slits of your curtain. He chuckled. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered into your ear as he didn’t even let up the way he was fucking into you.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He kissed the back of your shoulder. “Gonna spend Christmas letting me make you my girl?”

You nodded trying to peek up at him over your shoulder with a smile. “Your girl?”

“After this I’m not letting you go,” he said, kissing your cheek from behind. “We might need to make this a tradition.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 7

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

No I didn't get carried away with writing domestic fluff and forget to do the one thing I was supposed to with this chapter I'm a professional and would never do that

It took a long time for Tim and Cass to convince Marinette that, no, it wasn’t a trap, it was just a normal Halloween Party. It took even longer to explain what a Halloween Party really was, because apparently it wasn’t a huge deal in France.

But, eventually, she got it:

“Okay, so every Rogue and vigilante has to go to his Halloween Party in stupid costumes… or else?”

Tim nodded. “Rogues have to go because he’ll be insufferable, we have to go because otherwise we’re leaving a bunch of Rogues alone together without supervision.”

“And it really is just a Halloween Party?”

Cass flashed two thumbs up.

Marinette still looked a little confused. “And we… we want to babysit the Rogues?”

“They mostly behave themselves. Again, Crane can be insufferable when he wants to be and they have to spend a lot of time with him in Arkham.”

“I guess that’s cool then…” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her because she brightened up. “Is Nightwing coming?”

Tim nodded, suddenly a lot more wary. “Yeah, both he and Flamebird drop by for most holidays, anyway, so they might as well… why?”

She blushed a little. “I kind of wanted to see if I could get him to train me. I think his fighting style is pretty cool.”

Tim was not jealous or annoyed that Marinette might like two of his brothers more than him. He was fine if she liked Cass more, because Cass was, well, Cass. But Dick? Damian? Come on!

At least he had a month before the party to prepare himself.

For now, he glared at Cass, because she was laughing at him behind her hand.

Then he remembered that Marinette was still there and was watching the two of them interact with a vaguely confused expression and he pulled himself together: “I don’t know if he can teach you much since he’s usually in Bludhaven, but I used to be obsessed with the guy and I know all his moves by heart.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Red, I owe you one.”

He tried to hide his relief behind a smile. She smiled and blushed, so he was pretty sure it worked.

~

Marinette smiled as she scrolled through the Batinternet on her phone (they’d finally given her the password! She no longer had to waste data!). The batkids were all working on the computer, trying to hack into their father’s files to see their Christmas presents.

She didn’t get why they were doing it then, it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Still, they insisted that Batman was always prepared well before the holidays hit. She was curious about what they’d find, if anything, so she waited as Red Robin hacked their dad’s files.

Loud cheers erupted from the others, which meant they must have found something.

“... right, Ladybug, yours is easiest to get into… he probably didn’t expect you to try… he’s getting you an Xbox and a bunch of games to go with it.”

Her gaze shot up and she surged to the front of the group to see. “Really?”

Red Robin pointed at the screen and she blinked a few times. Yep, that was a customized Xbox. Wild.

Then her shoulders slumped. “Damn, I was only kidding. If I knew he was actually going to get it I would’ve asked for a Playstation.”

She continued looking at all the ‘random’ games Batman had bought her (he was suspiciously good at guessing what she liked), completely oblivious to the fact that she had accidentally started World War III right behind herself at the casual mention of a thing she wanted.

She glanced back at them once during their fight and they straightened instantly, innocent smiles in place. The hand Red Robin had in Robin’s hair turned into a hair ruffle. Black Bat had turned the way she gripped the collar of Spoiler’s shirt into pulling her down for a hug. Signal’s eyes stopped glowing under his domino. She smiled a little and turned back to the screen to look at the rest of the games. Fighting resumed.

Or, at least, it did until Marinette saw the file name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I knew you fuckers took my blood,” she hissed irritably.

She wasn’t exactly scared, the bats seemed generally well-intentioned, just paranoid, but that didn’t mean she liked it. They stole her blood to figure out her identity without asking.

They all tensed up behind her and looked at each other awkwardly.

Robin was first to snap out of it. He swatted Red Robin over the back of the head. “Look what you’ve done, Drake.”

Marinette blinked and then pulled her gaze back to Red Robin. “Drake?”

The batkids looked at each other awkwardly. Except for Red Robin, who was glaring at his youngest brother.

Spoiler was the first one to come up with an excuse: “It’s an older codename. We told him to come up with something original since everything else he’s used has belonged to someone else first… and that’s what he came up with.”

She considered whether Drake really confirmed that Red Robin was Tim Drake-Wayne. On one hand, yeah… but, on the other hand, was he really that stupid? Would he really use his own last name for a codename?

She supposed that, in all her time knowing Tim and Red Robin, he had never shown himself to be original. Smart, sure, but a little unoriginal.

So, yeah, Tim was almost definitely Red Robin.

But she was prepared to ignore it for now. Every bat seemed tense at the idea of her learning their identities, so she played dumb:

“It’s not that bad of a codename. Dragons are pretty cool.”

She could feel Black Bat still staring at her, but everyone else relaxed almost imperceptibly.

“He didn’t base himself off of dragons, he chose male ducks,” Robin informed her.

She blinked. “Why the hell would he choose ducks?”

Signal snapped his fingers and started pulling out his phone. “Oh, Mari -- can I call you Mari? -- you should see his outfit.”

Red Robin realized he was about to get murdered for his younger self’s outfit choices and tried to snatch the phone away.

Unfortunately for him, while he was concentrating on Signal, Black Bat had sidled over to Marinette. She tugged her arm to pull her attention from the two fighting boys and then showed her the picture.

Marinette stared at the ugly cockroach outfit for a long time before taking a deep breath: “Alright, first of all...”

~

Tim… he was fine.

Okay, no, he wasn’t.

The tracker was better, he would admit. She had even started wearing more red and black so she could wear the necklace more (something that made him feel all fuzzy inside), but she wasn’t wearing it every day and he couldn’t exactly tell if the necklace was there because she was home or if it was there because she’d worn a different outfit.

So, he only had one solution: randomly dropping by to do chores with her.

It started off with the ‘might as well’ principle. They were already out for photography and getting ideas for outfits, why not pick up some groceries while they were on their way back? She could even carry more since there were two of them.

He quickly dropped pretenses, though. The one time every few days that they hung out wasn’t enough to keep her in the house, and even if it was she clearly wasn’t fond of staying inside for long periods of time. He started dropping by every day to just go out with her.

He could tell his family was getting a little suspicious about what he was doing, Steph and Cass both narrowed their eyes at him whenever they saw him leaving the office at a normal time and once he had caught Duke following him to see where he was going… but it was fine. They weren’t going to complain about him actually getting some sort of down time.

And, he had to admit, it was nice. Not only did resting his brain for an hour or two a day do wonders for his mental health, he just… enjoyed doing chores with her? He didn’t think he would. He’d expected to like it the first few times, the novelty of going on his first grocery shopping trip or figuring out how a laundromat was always going to make it interesting and new for a bit, but it didn’t seem to be wearing off.

He was pretty sure that was because of the person he was doing it with, though.

He smiled as he watched Marinette half-climb the supermarket shelves for a bag of Takis.

“Need help?” He called.

“Nope!”

He watched her jump a few times on the lowest shelf before, eventually, climbing up another shelf.

Tim winced and surged forward to support her weight a little.

She huffed and grabbed the Takis. He set her down.

She crossed her arms. “I said I could get it.”

“I trust you. The shelves? Not so much. Do you want to die crushed under a bunch of chips?”

Her halfhearted glare morphed into a grin. “If I die any other way you have to promise to resurrect me so I can do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I resurrect you and you try not to die again for a while?”

“Hm… I guess that’d be alright.”

Then, at the laundromat, Tim saw a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. How did he know that they were henchmen? The black and white suits kind of gave them away.

He was just wondering whether it was worth it to try and call Duke over so they didn’t risk something happening when he realized that Marinette had slipped over to them.

But she wasn’t concerned as she offered some of her detergent. “Hey, if you need to wash lights and darks together like that… you’re going to need a different detergent. I know those are cheap but there’s a reason for that.”

“Isn’t that just an old detergent problem?”

“No, separating every single color into a different load is. But, if you want to do pure black and white like that… you don’t want to risk it.”

Then she turned and glared at another goon, who was pulling their luckily still okay clothes out of the washer.

“You’d better not be putting that in the dryer.”

The sheepish look on the henchman’s face was answer enough.

She huffed. “That is airdry only why would you do that --?!”

And that’s how they ended up friends with -- and possibly under the protection of? -- a bunch of henchmen. Tim had to admit, they were really nice when he and Marinette weren’t trying to get them thrown in jail. He almost found himself slipping and hoping that Frank managed to achieve his mob boss dreams. He actually did offer to babysit Sam’s kids while she had a shift because she seemed very stressed.

“Tim, darling, do you even know how to take care of kids?”

Tim didn’t know whether to blush because she had called him darling oh my god or due to embarrassment at that massive oversight.

“Uh… would you be willing to help?”

Marinette gave him an exhausted look. “I’ve only ever babysat one kid at a time without their older sibling being there to help.”

He quickly changed the offer to paying for a babysitter. Sam was thankful regardless.

When everyone had finished laundering their clothes to Marinette’s satisfaction, the two of them headed back towards her apartment.

Tim changed the position of the laundry basket on his hip so it didn’t dig into him as much. “You know, you didn’t have to help them.”

She snickered. “First of all, you’re absolutely wrong. I couldn’t just sit by and watch them ruin their clothes right in front of me!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fond smile on his face. “And second of all?”

“Secondly…” She let him into the house and closed the door behind him. A cheeky smile formed on her face. “Well, they’re henchmen. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have them on our side in case things go wrong rather than indifferent to what happens to us?”

It was here, with her smiling in front of him, intelligence sparkling in her eyes and the necklace he gave her hanging from her neck, that he realized that he was going to fall in love. He might not be there yet but, if they continued doing things like this, he was sure he would.

He wouldn’t mind that, he thought, as she leaned forward to take the basket from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way over. He watched her disappear to her room, no doubt to fix whatever damage he had done while carrying it that would be invisible to anyone but her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to start up the coffee machine.

~

There are no botanical gardens more beautiful than the ones in Gotham. Whether that was because Poison Ivy herself tended to them or because they were kept in tip-top shape to appease her, Marinette didn’t know. Whatever the reason, it was gorgeous and Marinette had gotten quite a few different ideas. She pretty much had an entire spring collection planned out…

It was unfortunate that she’d gotten ideas for a spring collection in the middle of autumn, but she was ignoring that.

Now, they were sitting on her couch. They needed to relax after all that walking around on top of a rather exhausting night the night before (Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham to start preparing for his Halloween Party). She was completely in his space in an attempt to mess with him. It, unfortunately, didn’t seem to annoy him as he lazily rested his head on top of hers.

She huffed a little but allowed it.

He fiddled with the settings on his camera, biting his lip.

She looked down at the camera and asked: “How’d you get into photography?”

“... it’s a kind of personal story,” he said carefully. “A little sad, too, I guess.”

She tried to pull back, an apology on her lips, but he just rested an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

“It’s fine.”

She nodded as much as she could with the head resting on top of hers.

They were silent for a long time. She tried to relax herself. There were no akumas in Gotham, it was okay to accidentally upset someone and it was okay to ask them if they wanted to elaborate. They were people, people are supposed to feel sad sometimes. It’s healthy.

She took a deep breath before curling more into his side. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly. “I… I guess I can, sure.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. In fact, she might be a little more comfortable with that. Emotional conversations weren’t a Parisian’s forte.

But he sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Our relationship can’t progress all that healthily if we never tell each other anything.”

Yikes. Way to accidentally call her out on the fact that she hadn’t formed a healthy relationship in years, Tim.

“Not that I’m all that great at healthy relationships,” he said after a minute.

At least she wasn’t alone, she supposed.

“No easy way to say this, I guess… my parents weren’t the best. They’d go on trips -- they were archaeologists -- and I’d be left home alone, usually for months at a time.”

She cringed internally and took his hand in hers, rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

He sighed lightly. “So… I was lonely, obviously. I started by taking pictures of my parents. Sometimes it was all I’d have of them for months. They could leave, but the pictures weren’t able to.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair.

“I started following the bats after a while. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t sated by pictures of just the two of them and decided to expand, if it was because they had a happy family despite a distant father and I wanted that for myself, or if it was because I wanted my parents to find out and be worried about me, or a mix of all of that… but…”

She slowly moved the camera off of his lap and pulled him into a hug. “But?”

He was silent for a bit, thinking over his answer. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “It was an old coping mechanism. A way of feeling connected to people when I couldn’t actually be.”

“‘Was?’ What changed?”

He laid back on the couch and she allowed him to pull her down beside him. “People around me… started ‘leaving permanently’.”

She winced. Oh.

“It hurt a lot more to look at the pictures after that. It just felt like a reminder that I was alone.”

She frowned. “But… you’re taking pictures of me, now.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, did I accidentally trigger --.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, kind of, but it’s okay! Every time they’ve died, it was because of some sort of shortcoming on my part. I think I’ve learned from all my mistakes. You… I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was pretty sure that she should be assuring him that, even if she did end up dying, that he shouldn’t blame himself… on the other hand, she had no intentions of dying and she was pretty sure it was nearly impossible for her, so maybe it was a good thing that he had chosen to protect her of all people? Maybe the problem would solve itself?

She didn’t know.

She carefully took his face in her hands, pulling him to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay, darling?”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I sure hope you’re right.”

~

He had been asked to stay the night. Her excuse was that she was almost done with an outfit for him and she wanted to give it to him the second it was done and, by the time it would be, it would be too dark to go out safely.

Tim kind of felt bad that he had worried her but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of staying over and watching her finish the outfit.

But, first, food. They dropped a million takeout menus on the desk. A long silence stretched between them as they looked at all the options.

“... what do you want?” Asked Marinette.

“I’m not in the mood for anything in particular, you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, do you want anything?”

“I don’t want anything, what about you --?”

This continued on for about three minutes before Tim got a brilliant idea. He dialled Damian’s number and put it on speaker.

“Drake. Why are you calling? Have you been hurt?”

“No, Dami, I’m getting takeout and I was just wondering if you had any ideas.”

Marinette gave him an affronted look, but he clapped his hand over her mouth before she could warn Damian that, no, he wasn’t buying food for him he was just going to be an asshole.

“... I suppose I wouldn’t be averse to Chinese.”

“Thanks, Dami! Hope you can get Alfie to make that for you.”

“What do -- ?”

Tim hung up on his very confused younger brother.

Marinette frowned as he removed his hand from her mouth. “That wasn’t nice of you, that’s a kid.”

Tim was not about to get beaten by his brother in both identities, thank you very much.

“Alfred can cook better than anyone in the world, he’s not going to suffer.”

She snorted. “I doubt he can make food better than…” She picked through the takeout papers for a few moments before holding up a menu. “... this place!”

He squinted at the menu. “... I really hope you can speak Mandarin.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find a language I can’t speak, Timmy,” she said, absently dialling the number.

Well, he supposed that explained how a person from France knew ASL and could speak English like a native. Damn. Now he kinda wanted magical god-earrings so he could speak every language in existence.

She spoke cheerfully to the person on the other side of the line for a moment before turning to Tim. “What do you want?”

“Uh… shrimp fried rice?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. “Alright, fine, white boy.”

“It’s a safe option okay --!”

She wasn’t listening to him explain why fried rice was the best choice for him because she was relaying the order to the person on the other side of the line. She hung up with a smile.

“Food will be here in about three minutes. Do you rich people have small bills or do you just use them for tissues or something?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They go down to a hundred, right?”

She pressed her lips together thinly, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking.

He snickered and shook his head. “Nah, I think I have twenties and fifties…”

“Yeah, that won’t do. We’re going to get robbed,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“We? Didn’t know I lived here, too,” he joked.

She barely even glanced up from where she was counting money. “Honestly, with how often you’re here, you might as well move in.”

He choked. He wanted to say something smart or funny or smooth, instead all that came out was: “You --? I --? Uh --!”

She snickered behind her hand. “Love, relax, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to leave your fancy mansion with all your siblings --.”

“Wait, don’t make living here sound even better. I will do it purely to get away from them, don’t test me.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Maybe that's the plan, you’ll never know.”

Tim had exactly zero idea whether they were joking or not anymore. The tone and reactions made him pretty sure they were kidding, but… what if they weren’t?

He was just gathering the courage to ask when the doorbell rang, pulling their attention to the food. She continued counting for a second before running to the door and swinging it open.

He walked up beside her awkwardly as she chatted politely to the guy to take the food inside. He knew, logically, that Marinette was actually way stronger than he was… but his stupid brain saw a thin, short woman in need of someone to help her carry things. So, he took it from the guy with a smile.

The delivery guy glanced Tim up and down before asking Marinette something. She laughed and gave a shrug. Tim did not know what was going on but he felt vaguely insulted.

He was definitely learning Mandarin after this.

The moment the door closed he whined about being insulted. She looked amused.

“You know what he said?”

“... no,” he admitted.

Her lips twitched.

“... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

She snickered and leaned over the two bags of food in his hands. “So, you got the fried rice, right?”

“Mariiiiiiii.”

“Your food is going to get cold.”

“Beeeaaaan,” he complained.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a blush spreading across her face. “Bean?”

He grinned, feeling heat creep to his own cheeks. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything for a nickname. First thing I thought of was coffee beans, so: Bean.”

“Wow, you’re such an addict,” she teased.

He continued pouting at her until she gave in.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose. “He asked if you could use chopsticks or not so he could get you a fork if you couldn’t.”

He felt the blush on his face deepen. “Oh… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” She grabbed a tote bag from the floor of her pantry and pulled out a set of plasticware.

He blinked. “... you keep plastic forks?”

She shrugged and tossed the bag back in her pantry. “Plastic forks, grocery bags, napkins, a few sets of chopsticks…”

“... why?”

“Some of us are minorities, darling.”

“What --?”

~

She hummed tunelessly as she worked.

Tim had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Had most of this been an elaborate plot to make him finally get some sleep? Possibly.

She didn’t feel all that bad, though. With how much he overworked himself both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake-Wayne… honestly, she was beginning to doubt that he slept at all. And, really, if a vigilante coffee addict with a magically enhanced physique is worried about your sleep schedule, you’ve got problems. Intervention was needed.

Don’t get her wrong, though, she was going to make up for lying to him. She’d move him to her bed and leave a cup of coffee for him on the bedside table. Maybe she’d even make him breakfast, it depended on how tired she was in the morning.

But that was for when she was done. For now, she was working on the last part of the outfit: she needed to lace up the corset. His posture needed a little work and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that to his face.

… besides, corset vests are cute. She wished more guys would wear them.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the last bit of lace through and tied a loose knot. Done.

She looked down at Tim. Loose strands fell in his face as he slept. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, making him look much younger. His lips curled into a slight smile at whatever he was dreaming about.

He looked so genuinely at peace. She hated that that was abnormal for him.

She couldn’t help but worry a little about what he’d said earlier. He’d claimed that the reason he had gone up to the top of that building the day they’d met (as Tim and Marinette) was to scout out a location for photography, but now that was seeming like a lie because he apparently preferred taking pictures of people over locations… so, why was he up so high? He’d known it was illegal to be there, so she doubted he thought anyone else would be…

She swallowed thickly.

She didn’t think his mental state was that bad… but, just in case it was, she waved Tikki over for a bug and sewed it into one of his sleeves.

Tikki was looking at her disapprovingly. Marinette ignored her.

It was Ladybug’s job to make sure everyone was doing okay mentally, and she wasn’t going to fail a person she cared about of all people.

His head slipped from her shoulder onto her stomach and she sighed, trying to lightly push him off without disturbing his sleep. It didn’t work. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in her stomach, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Well, this is her life now.

… she supposed it wasn’t so bad, though.

[scuttling]

Small

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 1,077 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pre-relationship, Loss of virginity stories, Jealousy if you squint Summary: Aaron overhears an interesting conversation on the jet. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! Sometimes, Hotch’s team can be so impressive, so professional, so formidable, that it makes all the other bullshit—the constant bureaucratic red tape, the endless protocol, dealing with other law enforcement, even his divorce—actually worth it.

Sometimes, they act like a bunch of sixteen year olds, and it’s almost a nightmare.

“Oh come on, I want to know how Miss Emily Prentiss lost her v-card,” JJ says one night when they’re flying home from a case, too wired to sleep. Hotch takes care to pay absolutely no attention to the tales being shared of how the members of his team lost their virginity, because it just seems… wrong.

He is not only their superior, but far older than them at forty-four, and while he’d prefer they weren’t having this conversation at all, the least he can do is do his best to ignore it.

“Ugh. Mine is a long story, and a little unusual,” he hears Cortes say after a couple of minutes; his ears perk up at her voice, and he’d say he’s not sure why, but he’d be lying to himself. She always captures his attention, no matter the setting.

“Sweetheart, nothing about you is usual,” Morgan replies, and it earns a laugh.

“Thanks, I think.” He risks a glance, and she’s shifted forward in her seat, clearly prepared to tell a story. “So three things to remember going into this: I was 19, so I was stupid; I was 19, so I was horny as hell; and, you know—I’m small. So anyway, I was dumb and horny, and when a few of my friends found out I hadn’t had sex yet they acted like it was a huge deal, which we know as adults is not the case. But I said, okay, if it’s such a big deal, then help me have sex. It’s not like I didn’t want to.”

“So why did you need help? I’m sure you were cute as a button,” JJ teases, and Cortes scrunches her face like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Because I was stupid, and small, and... afraid of big dicks?” Hotch is glad he’s good at keeping a straight face, but the others don’t bother, laughing out loud and making her shriek. “Hey! It was a very rational fear! You don’t know what’s going on down here, or you’d understand,” she says, gesturing to her pants. “So anyway, they went on a mission to find me someone who would admit to having a small dick, which is fucking impossible on a college campus, because people like to overinflate their egos and proclaim to be gigantic.”

“Sophie, no.” Prentiss frowns, exaggerated, and Cortes nods.

“Yeah, it was so embarrassing. They didn’t name me or anything, but they described me, and it was pretty obvious. Anyway, they did eventually get a taker, a professor; he wasn’t my professor—or not at the time, anyway, but that’s another story.”

“A professor? Naughty girl,” Morgan chides playfully, and Cortes groans.

“Yeah, I know. He was 30, so it should have been weird, but he was really cute and shy and sweet. He took me out to dinner, and then we went back to his place, and… you know. His dick was like training wheels. Now when I sleep with someone I hand out one of his business cards after. ‘Like the sex? Thank Professor Lambert.’” The part about the business cards is clearly a joke, but he can’t believe the rest of the story either.

“I can’t handle you. Afraid of big dicks,” JJ says with a grin. “So was it any good? Did you, you know… feel it?” Cortes raises her eyebrows, smirks a little.

“It was really good. He knew what he was doing with what he had, which is honestly the most important part. And, uh. I figured out what I was doing too,” she says, a little self-conscious; she puts a hand in her hair, one of her tells. “I don’t have a very long list, but he’s easily the best so far. We made it kind of a thing for a couple of months, until he actually became my professor.”

“He could have been a psycho,” Reid chimes in, surprisingly enough, and Cortes laughs.

“So could someone I met on a dating site, or in a coffee shop,” she points out, but Reid makes a face of confusion, wrinkles his nose.

“But he was just… signing up to have sex with a girl he didn’t even know. Out of nowhere. That’s weird.” She leans in to look at him specifically.

“What if there was someone out there who was looking for a guy just like you, in particular, for some reason; you wouldn’t go for it?”

“I think I’d feel a little weird about it.” Hotch tends to agree, but he’s not in the habit of policing what other people do with their bodies, even if he doesn’t like this particular story.

“Well that’s okay, but he didn’t, and I didn’t. And it was mutually beneficial: He’s a little chubby and had confidence issues about it, and I helped him get over it. Apparently having a girl all up on you in every position known to god will do that to a guy.” She leans back in her seat, and Morgan smirks. Hotch makes it a point to unclench his jaw.

“So is he, like, ripped now? Your magic virginity unlocked the key to washboard abs?” She scoffs, shakes her head.

“No, he’s still chubby, he’s just happy with himself as he is. I follow him on Instagram.”

“Do you guys ever meet up?” Prentiss asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows, and although it’s a question part of Hotch doesn’t want to know the answer to, he can’t help being curious.

“No, he’s married now, but I might if he wasn’t. I’m telling you, it was memorable.”

“Okay but the real question is: did you get over your fear, or are you all about that small dick life now?” Morgan asks with a grin. This, of all things, is what makes Cortes blush.

"Let's just say I learned that with a little extra preparation, all things are possible.”

“Okay, okay. You get the award for best loss of virginity story. Can’t top that,” JJ says, and they shift to topics a little more comfortable, but Hotch has lost all focus and can barely make sense of the words in front of him.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Hi! What are yours views on the recently released billboard article about bts? I assumed that people agreed on the fact that its was extremely disappointing and disrespectful towards bts but there are many ‘army’ blogs who are still defending that article

From anon: What do you think of the new Billboard article about the boys? 😓

I’ll be honest, I had a bit of a debate with myself if I want to post something about the article or not, if I want to draw more attention to it (like there’s literally anyone left who hasn’t heard about or read it), and if I want to get mad all over again. Since you’re reading this, we all know what conclusion I arrived at.

Usually I try to at least somewhat organize my answers to not jump around or angrily rant, but wow, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get that done this time so please bear with me this once. I’d also usually add direct copy+paste quotes and/or screenshots but I truly don’t want to give this article any clicks, or give that “journalist” and his writing even more direct attention, so this answer will have to do without them, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ve all read the article, or at least seen parts of it, so you’ll know what I’m talking about in each instance.

You know, in all of this, besides the obvious awful aspects of it all, I also feel bad for the staff (not the Billboard journalist and the editors) involved in this, like for example the photographer who went in and took gorgeous pictures of the members, did his best working with them, only for said pictures to be forever attached to this dumpster fire. And the members who spent so much time during that photoshoot to get only the best results and yet, what does it even matter in the end. As well as the fact that they took time out of their busy schedules to meet the journalist, to answer whatever questions he had, to just end up having to read all...THAT.

As some pointed out, it is though very telling that none of the HYBE/BHM/BTS twt accounts have retweeted the Billboard twts with links to the article. That already basically tells you everything you need to know, as in, that the article isn’t worth our time and our braincells needed to read it.

After so many years I think most of us have come to expect basically nothing from interviews with literally any US publication, but especially magazines like The Hollywood Reporter (remember that mess?) and Billboard, and, well, the bar was in hell and yet they still managed to deliver a result that was, I think, one of or the worst article I’ve ever read on BTS. Especially since large parts of the article weren’t even about them? For a cover story about BTS, what’s up with the lack of interview, the minimal amount of quotes from their answers, the summarization of their supposed words, and the large focus on a “controversy” basically cooked up by haters on stan twt? And the “journalist”, who has shown in older twts that he has a negative bias toward BTS and ARMY, even taking direct quotes from stan twt accounts for western artists to illustrate his point, instead of, I don’t know, legit sources? Showing numbers or anything that would show credibility and a solid foundation for said argument? But instead it’s gossip and malicious accusation based on “I don’t like that this band is successful instead of my fave so I will accuse them of cheating while I ignore all the cheating my own fave partakes in”.

More below the cut:

Of course we were, once again, served the narrative that ARMY are just a bunch of manipulated teens which, let’s like talk about that for a second because there are a lot of layers to this and the further you look, the worse it looks for people like this journalist and everyone else like him openly shading ARMY. 

Let’s suppose ARMY really somehow were millions of girls ages 12 to 18 (who somehow have access to enough money to raise funds for music and also match BTS’ $1 million donation and spend money on so many different charity projects every year) and these journalists, most of them men usually above the age of 30, go around and basically belittle and “hate” on them. Do we see the problem here? The fact that in this case grown adults openly, in publications they are paid to write for, bully teenagers and kids simply because they don’t agree with the musician said teens and kids have decided to be a fan of and support. And because they are girls instead of soccer loving boys, as counter example.

A truly weird hill to be willing to d*e on just to make some kind of (negative) point if you ask me. 

Then of course there’s the whole thing that Mr. Journalist decided to go in with a narrative in mind and seriously sit down opposite Namjoon and basically ask him “hey, listen, what do you think about your crazy TEENAGE fans buying your music (truly the audacity, how dare they) and that they are cheating and manipulating the system? Like that’s not right, right?”. Bless Namjoon and his genius brain for being able to keep his cool and shut down that man with his amazing answer shifting the blame right back onto Billboard and how, if they don’t like people playing by the rules that they themselves have created, maybe they should look at their own system and reevaluate it instead of turning against and point a finger at BTS who, as Namjoon said himself, are simply an easy target because they are foreigners, because they sing in a language that isn’t English, and because they are Asian. And really, is there anything the US music industry hates more than foreigners, POC at that, being successful, or even more successful, than their industry supported artists? Don’t think so.

Also can we talk about how strange the argument of “bulk/mass buying” is when ARMY never goes over the limits Billboard themselves have set up, being four copies of a given song. If they truly were against people “bulk/mass buying” you’d think they would lower the number to one copy per person and that’s it, right, the way iTunes does it. And yet, they did not. Because “bulk/mass buying” is okay, just not when it’s ARMY and Bangtan.

Billboard: Buying multiple copies of the same song is bad and makes no sense. You’re cheating.

Also Billboard: Here, buy EIGHT copies of the same magazine, with the exact same contents but different covers, for $170+ in this neat little bundle.

Make it make sense, will you? Or at least be less obvious with what you’re doing.

It’s a problem when it’s done in a way that doesn’t benefit them, and the greater US music industry and their shady system, but when it does benefit them, it’s totally chill, easy, no problem? It’s so obvious, dumb, and kind of makes me want to laugh but also scream and/or knock my head against my table because it’s just so bizarre yet it’s treated like this all makes sense and is completely normal. And the sad thing is, it is normal. We, or BTS as umbrella term, are a problem because we get things done, we get achievements and #1s and numbers without giving in to payola, paid playlisting, bundles when they were still a thing, and without everything else the US labels do to push their artists into basically false fame. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen and nonbinary friends, is where the issue lies.

While talking about all of this among ourselves (as in ARMY at large) across sns, as well as taking into account some pondering by journalists questioning the intentions of the article, a thought arose and, now that I think about it, it sounds just too obvious and yet here we are. Voting season for the Grammys is coming up sometime soon-ish, and Billboard is one of the major publications that the voting members look at and read when considering who to give their vote to. Now imagine you’re a voting member who until this point had a positive, or at least neutral, opinion on BTS but on Monday you sit down and read this article? Would you still want to vote for an artist being accused of “chart manipulation” and supposedly claiming they didn’t actually want to do music in English but were forced into it despite originally saying something else?

No, right?

And that’s the point. 

This is nothing but a glorified smear campaign against Bangtan across lots, and I mean lots, of publications who picked up the narrative that this article presented and ran with it. The US music industry sees their success and feels threatened because they are showing that when you have true, organic success and a loyal fan following you don’t need any of the paid for tricks to achieve things, you don’t need payola, don’t need paid for playlisting on streaming websites, and don’t need US industry backing. You can do it all on your own, therefore these exploitative systems and institutions don’t make any money off of you which is obviously unacceptable. Even more so when you could actually win, or at least again be nominated, for what is regarded as the supposedly most prestigious music award, aka the Grammys. So, since they know they can’t get rid of ARMY, can’t discourage us from supporting BTS, they go for their image and reputation instead. And that’s what this article tried to achieve. Show that, wow, in the end all the “dark side of K-Pop” stories were true all along because even poor, poor BTS are puppets of their evil agency after all, are forced into things, and are used to manipulate their gullible teenage fans into throwing money at them and manipulating the charts.

How come we’re the only ones who see just how f*cked up all of this is? And the few journalists who are on our side?

Lastly, can we talk about just how weird the use of and the quotes themselves from the members were? Most felt not only out of place, out of context, but also so weirdly out of character some ARMY have started to question how much of their “quoted words” are actually theirs and how much might be, essentially, fabricated/twisted to fit the desired narrative the journalist had from the get go. I know a certain crowd, you know which one I mean, jumped onto what was said about the english songs but also especially the final quote from Seokjin at the end of the article that essentially boiled down to “we were so annoyed and overworked we said screw everything, especially our agency, and now we only trust each other” or something to that effect. Am I the only one who thinks that quote sounded nothing like something Seokjin would say? Yes, he’s said cheeky things in the past, he’s also said bold things, like his entire speech against sajaegi back in 2019, but each time he was polite and stuck to his manners while doing so, yet this? I don’t know, something about it just feels very off. Or JKs quote about how he sacrificed more than just his youth to be who he is now. While we know that is true, after all he became a trainee at a very young age and spent the better part of his teenage years as idol on stage, but has he ever spoken about that negatively? In such a manner?

Someone suggested that interviewers should publish transcripts of the original Korean answers and questions that BTS were asked in order to offer some transparency and also for us to know that what they are quoted saying are actually things they did say. I know that’s very unlikely to ever happen, just wishful thinking on my/our part, especially when a hit piece article is attached to it, but in moments like this, it really would be very helpful. For us, but also to add credibility to such articles and the context in which said quotes are used.

Now, for the ‘ARMYs’ who defended this article, to be honest, I’d very much question how much of an ARMY someone is when they can go and read this article and agree with it. How? I get that for some the things in this article played right into their manti agenda, but mantis aren’t ARMY. And the crowd who decided to, instead of blaming the journalist for the narrative he tried to push with all its negative implications, blamed HYBE/BHM instead? Are you serious? That isn’t how journalism works, or at least it shouldn’t be. HYBE/BHM can’t just go in and say “we don’t like this article, change it”, that’s not how freedom of press works, and also, do you realize how weird it is that you are blaming an Asian agency for a hit piece published by a western publication?

What was interesting though was that, as example, the online merch store Cokodive made a statement on their IG page in which they said the following:

So even they, who could’ve directly benefited from selling the magazine, decided that it wouldn’t be right because that article is a travesty. It’s a small thing in the grand scheme of things, yet it shows that it isn’t just ARMY who are being “sensitive little snowflakes who can’t take criticism” but also others outside the fandom who also see the disrespect within the article and its blatant negativity and lack objectivity.

Personally I saved the pictures but I refuse to give views directly to Billboard when it comes to the “Things you didn’t know about BTS” video as well as the behind the scenes clips of the members regardless of how beautiful they are. And I refuse to give their website and this article any more clicks than I already gave them while reading the article in the first place.

You can be critical of an artists success, you can wonder how they, specifically, managed to become as successful as they did, but what you can’t do is completely ignore shady practices of other artists while attacking those who don’t partake in any of them simply because they manage to fill stadiums and get #1s without those practices. At the end of the day, just like Forbes once said that BTS don’t need the Grammys but the Grammys need BTS, in the same way BTS don’t need Billboard and their shady articles and twts, but Billboard needs BTS for clicks and views and therefore revenue. 

As longtime ARMY it also saddens me having watched Bangtan become more and more disillusioned with the US market, as well as ARMY going through the same thing. Then again, like Namjoon said in the article, it isn’t their goal to become mainstream in the US, all they want is to have a big tour and that’s it. Nothing more.

As twt says: this article should’ve just stayed in the drafts.

[rouiyan]

𝘌𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘊𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚 [ 𝘫.𝘫𝘩 ]

⧏ extra follow-up scene for someone to bring home ⧐

synopsis — jaehyun is your brother’s best friend, smart, good-looking, and above all, yours.

✧ medstudent!jung jaehyun x (fem.) reader (featuring older brother!johnny) ✧ established relationship au, college au, brother’s best friend au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 1.6k ✧ disclaimers : discussion of fears, food.

you tilt your head to the skies outside. they're darkening, fast, and you wonder if your ride will be here in time to resuscitate some of the liveliness that has left your soul. surely enough, exam season proved to be the death of you and winter break was the single strand of hope you were holding out for. sighing, you tug the curtain back closed and look to your phone for the nth time that day, your lockscreen comes up blank.

fingers drumming against the handle of your suitcase, you busy yourself with roving your eyes over the lengths of your apartment once more in search of anything you might've missed. another short sigh is uttered and cut off when the rap of knuckles sounds at the door. you're rushing all of a sudden, how did you miss his car pulling into the parking lot when you've just barely parted your eyes from the window?

checking the peephole, something that should be second nature to any female living alone, is long forgotten as you swing the door open just as a second rap is about to ensue. the man on the other side is who you've been needing to see for the whole duration of the afternoon and the weeks leading up to it.

"hey, sorry, i got caught up with a bunch-"

an 'umph' replaces the rest of his words as you fling your arms around him. jaehyun reciprocates well, wrapping his own arms around your frame and bringing your bodies close, a tight-lipped kiss placed on the left of your forehead whilst mumbling into it, "missed me much?" a chortle of sorts escapes your own mouth, muffled by the thick fabric of his jacket, "been thinking about you all day." 

he gives your shoulder a pat, reminiscent of a 'bro pat,' and pulls from you, "we gotta get going, babe." you leave your fingers entwined with his as half of your body reenters your long-forgotten apartment to retrieve your suitcase, of which he takes charge of not a second after. your eyes are on the sky, once again, when the two of you exit the complex, and jaehyun can only question your glances. "something wrong?"

you don't mean to lie to him, but most certainly the words that tumble from your mouth pay no mind towards your sentiments, "nothing, i'm good."

but jaehyun knows you better, likes you more, than either of you are willing to admit. he lets the first half hour of the drive sit in silence. he understands that whatever's sitting on your mind will come to him when you need it to, he knows that you'll share. jaehyun looks over at the cross of your legs and the elbow propped under the window and head propped on your hand. in the faint light that lingers of the sun, he can make out the creases of your brow, the quivering demeanor that sits under the composure you let show. your boyfriend reaches a hand over to your left, lifting it from your lap, finger by finger, and into his palm with tenderness. 

you remove your stare out the window and onto him, his dark hairs falling into place across his forehead, head bobbing to the thrum of whatever song was playing in the background of your thoughts. he squeezes tight at the hand, and really, that's all you need to timidly, reassuringly, voice your worries.

"i'm not scared of the dark."

jaehyun waits for you to go on and, when you don't, shifts some of the weight of the conversation onto his shoulders, "i figured as much."

you find your voice a little while after, "and i'm not scared of driving either," musing along to your thoughts and allowing them to be aired aloud as they come, "it's just...things happen in the dark, and well, things happen all the time, but in the dark- you really don't know much when driving."

he's more just trying to nudge you along at this point than actually curious. "are you scared of hitting someone or being hit?" it's that feeling that comes when you care for someone, and when that someone is in the midst of opening up to you and the only thing you can do is receive them well, to reciprocate, to engage and make them feel heard. jaehyun loves the feeling of being the one with whom you open up to.

"both, i mean, what isn't there to be scared about when you're going 60, 70 miles per hours with little to no idea of what's in front of you?" a small, oblique smile etches on his expression, though facing forward, at the way your fingers halt their little trembles and the way your body is now aligned inwards, in his direction rather than out, towards the window. ever so diligent in choosing his words, he's also a great deal prudent in pronouncing his tone placidly when he supports, "perfectly rational."

kicking off a sandal, you hike a leg up onto the passenger seat, tucking it under your thigh and resting your and his entwined hands atop, "you think so? jieun always tells me it's dumb." 

"that's just because it doesn't apply to her, not because she doesn't think it can't apply to you." you wonder how your boyfriend articulates himself so well, even as his eyes are set forth and his other hand swerving the car into the lane beside. you nibble, unconsciously, on a fingernail, also looking out into the vast night before you. "then why did you say it's rational? you're fine with driving in the dark." you can't see a thing but you can hear jaehyun's low chuckle reverberate above the consistent hum of the engine and the whipping of wind, "because unlike your best friend, i have enough heart to pay regards to your fears."

at the lilt of his voice, you revert your sights from the black ahead and onto him. jaehyun doesn't look back; he's driving after all, but the little smile that plays on his lips tells you enough. "hm, i'll have to bring that up to her." there's this back and forth that passes between the two of you, something under the current of your conversation and something that you'll only pick up on when remembering back to this episodic memory. it's sure to be episodic. 

jaehyun doesn't respond, not for awhile, and you know him well enough to understand that silence is also a love language of his as well. it's a month that you've known him. you wouldn't say it felt like years, there were still years worth of things to discover about each other. rather, it feels like the only thing you understand, mutually and in the undercurrent, is that whatever it is that's playing between the two of you isn't just something in the moment, it's the knowledge that it'll be of the long run ahead.

it's like the feeling of when you first meet someone and you already know that they'll be your best friend. like the first chord of a song that you just know you'll never get sick of. the first whiff of a cologne that you know you'll never mind inhaling for the rest of your livelihood. the first month of a love you know will never fade, no matter the years, the miles apart, the fights, the fears.

you wonder if this is what it feels like for everyone else in the world whose first love is also their last. at least, this is what it feels like for you.

your eyes are on the moon when jaehyun breaches the silence, "you know, i'm sorry about today." head snapping to him at the sound of him speaking, you're pleased to see the moon so lovingly glints in the strands of his hair, his irises, the rings on his left hand, and his hand on the wheel. "what do you mean?"

the seeming afterthought of his seems to have been thought out quite well, for he answers almost instantaneously, as if it were at the tip of his tongue, waiting, "for picking you up late, of course." and though you are unrehearsed, you discern and voice your answer in a similar pace, "no, i'm glad you did."

"why is that?"

"because if you didn't then...we wouldn't have had the talk." 

this time, the smile that lights his features is in the crossroads of knowing and loving, understanding and reminiscence for a scene that passed less than an hour ago. jaehyun's hand is now clammy in yours, or yours in his, and he squeezes your palms together then, mortifyingly gross but somehow tolerable in the hands of only each other. a silly smile etched on your face, you glance down to note that the rings that clutter his left hand are absent on his right and that your left hand is bare of any such accessory whatsoever.

he catches the gaze and his smile morphs into one of adoration, affection, unadulterated fondness as he muses, the sound of his voice almost getting caught in the bleakness of silence, "a few years, love, i'll put something on that finger of yours, a few years."

and in a few years, indeed, johnny stands while jaehyun sits beside him. a fork is clinked to the rim of his champagne glass and the gazes of a hundred or so guests turn with intrigue in his direction. he really could go on about how his sister, the bride, had come to this point in her life where a ring would be slid on that finger of hers by none other than his best friend. he could go on about the pumpkin pie, the blanket, the text, the hand soap, the yogurt, the game night. but he doesn't.

instead, johnny, best man to the groom, jung jaehyun, simply announces into the echoes of the reception hall, "i called it."

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — about an hour later than promised but it's all good (i'm supposed to be on a break anyways, remind me to never say that again because it will probably never hold true). anyways, i hope this tied it all together a little neater than i had left it; i'm quite pleased with how it turned out hehe. okay, have a splendid day, i'll see you around!

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: Praise you

(see chapter 1)

summary: you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. 

...even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, teasing, implied smut I guess? oh, and of course - ✨hand content✨

author’s note: Took me a while, but it was fun to write! Didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are - over 4,2k words of shameless hand content

The song for this chapter is Fatboy Slim - Praise you

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @vaneilla @gallifreyan-uprising​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway​ @truly-insatiable​ (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

-----

You cracked it.

It took you a good while, though. A whole sleepless night, even.

And half of the morning after that.

But maybe the absolute exhaustion was the key, pun intended.

At first, it boggled your mind so much that you were dangerously close to using brute force just to examine that lock. You tried every technique that you could think of - to no effect. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. The mechanism wasn’t responding as usual, it was more like a thing from goddamn Upside Down, or however the fuck that was called.

It became a matter of pride.

The sun had risen over an hour ago and the sunlight was pouring through the gaps in the blinds. Grasping at the last strands of sanity, you decided to take a break. You put on your headphones and danced around your apartment to the sounds of a song with that one bloody line that somehow seemed fitting for this madness.

Is it worth it? Let me work it, I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it

Because it felt exactly like that was what had happened to it. And no amount of cursing and switching tools would help in the face of glitched reality.

And when you sat down at your desk again, with your head so empty that your last brain cell was amusing itself by yodeling and listening to an echo, you bound the first pin. The sound was so distorted it almost startled you. The last thing you needed right then was to break the hook inside the keyway, so you leveled your breath and continued, even though your fingers cramped painfully. That wasn’t enough to stop you. Not as you finally got proof that the task was actually within your reach. 

With every click like a backwards version of the sound you knew so well, the next pins got set quicker and smoother. And when you opened the lock, you couldn’t help the cheerful scream that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck yes!” You punched the air, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the biggest grin lighting up your face.

That’s when you knew there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. Besides, you still didn’t know how you managed to convince that device to cooperate. You had to prove to yourself that it wasn’t dumb luck, and should you ever come upon a bloody nightmare like that, you’d be able to use the experience to crack it open. Because of that, you spent the next couple of hours reverse-picking it (which turned out to be another level of bonkers) to lock the damn thing, only to open it back again. And again. And then three times more. When you got comfortable with the process, your eyes were burning, your fingers stiff and trembling, but the immense satisfaction was worth every bit of it.

You were about to crash on the bed as your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the incoming message.

//did you pick it?

At first, you assumed you got it from Mahir, but as you were typing in a long rant, you realized that there was no history of the previous conversations on the screen, so you checked the sender again.

Neil.

Huh.

You’d exchanged the numbers the day before, but you didn’t expect to hear from him until they got everything ready to start the lessons. Oh well. You snapped the picture of the open lock and sent it back, adding a short message.

          //that was fun, hope you have more of them

As you faceplanted on the bed, the phone buzzed with a reply.

//N: you bet

You couldn’t wait to get all the answers about how they managed to manufacture the most bizarre and mind-bending thing you’d ever seen, but there was no point in asking those questions over the phone. Plus, you really needed to get some rest.

          //awesome! now excuse me, imma get some Zs - let me know when you  guys are ready to start

After a second, you typed in another text.

          //ps. how’s your nose?

//N: will do, sleep well!

//N: as for my nose...let’s say I’m glad it wasn’t the straightest one in the first place

That cheeky bastard.

          //hey, don’t try to guilt-trip me, i’m trying to sleep

You almost drifted off, but you couldn’t resist checking that last notification.

//N: ...I wouldn’t dare

Snorting, you rolled to the side.

Then you fell asleep, dreaming of the impossible locks.

-------

It took them another day to prepare all the stuff, and after several further messages you got a date and location.

The building looked like a contemporary tenement house, definitely standing out from two older ones at its sides. You always assumed it belonged to one of those fancy start-ups, but apparently it was some sort of temporary headquarters of your new associates.

It didn’t surprise you that you weren’t given a tour of the place, you assumed you needed to have some sort of clearance to walk freely through the area. For now, you were restricted to the ground floor, or rather to the lobby and your classroom - a rather cozy space, but equipped with everything you needed to begin.

Neil turned out to be a fast learner, at least when it came to covering the theoretical side of lockpicking. You walked him through the basics, but you couldn’t help the itch in the back of your brain. After the encounter with the preposterous lock, your mind started to question everything that used to be unshakeable.

And of course you asked Neil about that bloody device as soon as you saw him, but he just smiled lightly and said that The Protagonist insisted on telling you all that himself when the time was right. So you had nothing left to do but to continue with the lessons, hoping that you the man himself would decide to grace you with his presence sooner than later.

You propped the chin on your hand and watched as Neil grabbed the tools. Your gaze wandered over his outrageously long fingers as he gave the lock a try, but apparently, the most idiotic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, eyes up here,” snorted Neil, and you looked at him just to meet his amused face. He caught you shamelessly staring, and there was no point in denying it.

Trying to salvage your mental coherence, you choked out, “Dude, your hands are--”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head.

“...huge,” you finished, the wide smile not leaving even for a second. You bit your lip and glanced back at Neil. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare for a bit longer.”

A hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. My, oh my. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and proceeded to bind the first pin, pressing his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to keep a composed demeanor. The sparkles in his gaze were quite telling, though.

The sight was utterly adorable, but more importantly, it planted a rather gut-busting idea into your head.

You stifled a giggle.

All in due time.

____

One of the perks of the location was a small cafe on the other side of the street.

Neil took you there on your second day during a break, walking in with a confidence of a true regular. He knew the staff by name and vice-versa, so it didn’t surprise you as he charmed his way through the conversation.

“I’ve got this,” he said, raising a hand to stop you before you could place your order. “One black coffee and one--...” he hesitated, still preventing you from chiming in. You crossed your arms and watched as his forehead creased, the confidence leaving him with every second passed. He narrowed his eyes, and you could almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

Whatever he was doing, or trying to do, it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Iced mocha for me, please,” you said, wondering which one of you had a more puzzled expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

Neil shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” - he let out a small sigh - “I can’t read you.”

“Good,” you snorted. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

The young barista smiled, putting the first coffee on the counter.

“Oh, your colleague here has a thing.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Do tell!”

“It’s nothing,” said Neil, cringing slightly, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the enthusiastic answer from spilling from the barista.

“He likes to guess the orders of his companions, but this is prolly the first time I ever saw him freeze like that. Can’t wait to tell Doris!”

Neil groaned, avoiding your amused stare. “Spare me, Max.”

“Aww, man, I’m honored to be your first!” you teased, nudging his arm lightly and snickering at the absolutely done face he gave you in return.

That cafe quickly became your place of choice during breaks, but sometimes, if the weather was nice enough, you ordered to-go, just to spend that bit of free time between lockpicking sessions sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a bank of the river. You chatted about everything and nothing in particular, or simply sat in silence, enjoying the ambiance, beverages, and each other’s company.

The last thing took you by surprise, in a way. You’d expected those brief moments of a break during the day to be your sacred moments of solitude, the usual necessity to avoid getting too cranky around people. As Neil joined you on that second day, you found out that his presence was not bothering you, or at least your social batteries weren’t being drained in their regular manner. Sure, it probably helped that he was incredibly easy on the eyes, but a real treat were those moments when you ventured onto a territory he felt strongly about. In a wink, he was ready to drop his typical composure just to go straight into bubbly rants, gesturing wildly, the blue irises lit by the fire that he most often kept under wraps.

There was nothing more boring than people who lacked passion.

Lucky for you, that was not the case with Neil.

Moreover, he made you laugh.

A dangerous combination.

Alluring, even.

Good thing that you were not one to become smitten that easily.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun, though.

--------

“You need to listen to what the lock has to say,” you prompted, pacing through the room and watching as Neil struggled with a new type of mechanism. “It’s all about feedback.”

He pulled out the tools and rubbed his face, trying to hide the first hints of frustration.

“What if we apply heavier tension to amplify it?” he said and glared at the lock as if it was taunting him from its place on the practice stand.

“Sure, “ - you leaned over the table to rest the chin on your laced fingers - “but can you think of any reasons not to do that, my dear Physics Boy?”

“The higher possibility of breaking tools?”

“Precisely,” you said as you snapped and pointed your fingers. ”Also, you risk binding the pins too tightly and you wouldn’t want that, either.”

Neil sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“So...patience, then?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “It really comes down to one thing - you have to feel it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “I’ve heard it before,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You shrugged, eyeing him curiously.  

“Maybe because that’s one universally useful advice?”

“Would help if I understood it, too.” He gave you a weak smile, but his expression told you he wasn’t convinced.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Listen, I can smarten it up for you, but let me just show you what I mean.” You grabbed the second pair of tools from the table and placed them inside the keyway, but as soon as you opened your mouth to provide some follow-up instructions, you got struck by a better idea. Your eyes flared up. “Okay, know what? I’m just gonna-- if you could scoot back a bit--...” you said, shuffling in his direction. Neil’s brows snapped together in consternation, but he moved back. Without further ado, you sat down in front of him, nestling yourself between his spread legs on the edge of the chair, and let out a content sigh. “Should be easier now. Put your hands on mine.“

Neil tensed, and you could swear you heard him swallowing hard behind your back. He followed your suggestion, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands on top of yours.  

“Now, lay your fingers on the tools just above mine,” you continued as you slid your digits back to make more room for him. “Great, try not to press them and focus. Close your eyes, if you want.” As you gently moved the tools, you couldn’t resist but to add, “You can breathe though, you know?”

“Blimey.”

You giggled at the sarcastic bit in his tone and drew a long breath, hoping that Neil would follow it, and focused back on the lock. Purposefully slowing down your movements to allow him to feel how the mechanism responded to your ministrations, you kept sliding the hook back and forth the keyway, setting pin after pin. Neil relaxed after a moment, his shallow breath ghosting over your shoulder got deeper and more steady. His palms rested heavier on your hands, and you marveled at their size again, nibbling on your bottom lip. With all your senses sharpened, you stole a brief moment of self-indulgence, closing your eyes and relishing in the warmth radiating from Neil, the way it enveloped you, carrying a scent of his cologne - airy citrus undertones mixed with hints of powdery musk, a fresh and unostentatious combination you found fitting him so well.

The final click, more pressure and voilà - the lock was open.

“Did you feel it?” you asked softly, weirdly unwilling to move, hoping to linger in the position for a little while longer.  

“Yes,” said Neil, and his husky voice made you turn your head to look at him. As he pulled his hands back somewhat hesitantly, you noticed his dazed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good,” you chirped, grinning, then reached out over your shoulder and lightly booped his nose, enjoying probably a bit too much the way his eyes widened. “Your turn.”

-----

Days. Weeks. Or was it months, plural?

You lost track of how much time had passed since that morning in the Old Town district.

The progress was counted by the number of models you introduced to Neil, showing him all the tricks you’d learned over the years. You still waited for the meeting with The Protagonist, although, ever since your student spilled a little too much information during one of his enthusiastic rants at the breaks (seriously, how could a person that bad at keeping secrets survive so long in any sort of spying business was beyond you), your initial curiosity itch had been scratched, and you were now in that blessed moment before it got unbearable again and demanded taking further actions.

It also helped that you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. Even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

Neil was clearly feeling confident that evening. He really started to get a hang of this, and you loved watching him like that - fully focused, blonde strands falling to the eyes, with the tip of the tongue poking out...

It would be a shame if someone was to test his level of concentration.

“You know, I spend so much time looking at your hands that they recently started making cameos in my dreams.”

The blue eyes darted at you from under raised brows.

“Is that so?" asked Neil, switching his attention to the lock again.

“Yep. Mind you, most of those dreams are rather uneventful.” You pouted, sliding from your place on the windowsill. “Still waiting for one that is not so boringly PG-13.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed with effort.

...warmer...

Circling the table, you stopped behind Neil’s chair.

"I’m just saying,” - leaning over, you purred right into his ear - ”that such long fingers like yours can give a girl all sorts of ideas--"

Snap.

You bit back a satisfied smile and smacked your tongue. “Those were perfectly fine tools, you know.”

Neil turned in his seat and gaped at you.

“Why are you like this?” he complained, helpless and flustered.

You shrugged. “I thought it was a high time for a little stress test. Might come in handy later.” Snickering at his puzzled face, you added, “What? You’re not exactly in a stress-free line of work.”

He shook the head lightly and scoffed. “... yeah, I see your point,” he said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I don’t think there’s a high risk of someone trying to seduce me in the field.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” you asked, arching a brow, your tone nothing but serious.

“I-...”

The panicked look on his face as he blinked rapidly was more than enough to break your deadpan façade.

“Oh man, I’m just pulling your leg. You should’ve seen your face though.” Giggling, you grabbed a fresh lock from a shelf and tossed it to Neil. He sighed and replaced the messed-up device. “Besides,” you continued, “if there is one thing that the espionage movies have taught me, it’s that the spy always has plenty of beautiful creatures willing to keep his bed warm.”

The playful sparks appeared in Neil’s eyes.

“Is this a very elaborate way of asking me if I’m seeing someone or are you volunteering?”

Well, well, well.

“What if it’s both?”

“Then the first answer is no. As for the second one--” he hesitated, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. “...a follow-up question - is it a good idea?”

You tilted your head, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“What if it’s gonna make things… I don’t know, weird?”

You gestured vaguely. “Can’t get any weirder than all your timey-wimey, inverted entropy bullshit.”

“That’s not exactly--”

“I know what you meant,” you sighed and met his darkened gaze, a shade of smile tainting your lips. “And yet, you’re trying to appeal to my reason while looking at me like that.” You left your seat and grabbed your backpack. “It’s getting late. Finish with this one and get some rest.”

Then you left, not waiting for a reply.

It was one of the warm nights and you decided to take a walk. A promenade near the river was not as crowded as you expected, making your journey home way more enjoyable. With your favourite tunes seeping through the headphones, you took in the view, the city lights reflecting in the water only added to the ambiance.

The phone buzzed in your pocket.

//N: I can’t believe you left like that

You chuckled, texting him back.

          //why, you had any plans?

The answer came almost instantly.

//N: maybe

He was adorable. But--

          //have you finished with the lock?

//N: …no    

//N: wait are you gonna use our conversation as some sort of motivational tool now

Even if you weren’t, after getting a message like that?

You just had to.

          //maybe?

//N: jesus

          //sex is but a great metaphorical carrot. besides - it’s all about that delayed gratification and whatnot

A moment of silence.

And then:

//N: you’re evil.

That spiteful period at the end got you snickering loudly, earning you some curious looks.

A huge grin lit up your face.

          //gn <3

-----

You must admit, that game was quite exciting.

And Neil was getting better at it, and soon implying became no longer enough to make him lose his focus.

At first, it was relatively easy to prompt a blush or a slight tremble of a hand. But with every next attempt, he grew more and more resilient, and soon, the only indication that he heard you was the fire burning in his eyes.

Then you got really mean, throwing some ambitious tasks in front of him, tricky locks and complex mechanisms, as your teasing got more straightforward.

And descriptive.

It became hard to shake it off once you left the training room. The lingering looks. The accidental touches. The atmosphere, almost electric. In other words - the heat sink was ready to be popped, and it was no longer a matter of if, but more of when.

“4 minutes.”

Neil barely nodded, lips pressed together and brows knitted in concentration.

3 locks in 15 minutes. Difficult, but doable, considering his current level of skill. Too bad he’d slacked at the second one, not leaving too much time for the final push. Sure, you didn’t go easy on him along the way, but the real challenge was supposed to be a race against the clock, so now you just watched him with bated breath.

Click.

You checked the time.

“45 seconds”

“Goddamnit!” he uttered through gritted teeth, readjusting cramping fingers on the tools.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” you said, taking a step closer.

Another click.

He didn’t know that there was only one pin left to set. You did, that’s why you tried your best not to reveal it with your expression. Too early to celebrate, anyway.

“Nine... eight… seven… six… five…”

That’s when you heard a final click and you looked up from your phone, only to see the lock giving in and opening up.

“Yeah!” Neil cheered, banging a fist on the table and tossing the tools away.

You smiled, hiding the phone in the pocket. “Good job, I knew--” but before you could finish a sentence, Neil sprung up from his chair and closed the gap between you, then cupped your face with his palms and kissed you hungrily.

You froze for a second, but as your mind caught up, you kissed him back, tugging at the light blue shirt. He smiled against your lips and made you back away until you hit the wall, huffing at the sudden coldness of the surface. But he was bent on kissing you senseless until you both ended up gasping for air.

“You’re so paying for all that teasing,” he panted, running the tip of the tongue through his swollen lips. “Not to mention, you’ve given me a few fascinating ideas, and I’m very much willing to give them all a try.”

You grinned, fighting with your evidently short-circuiting brain for a grasp of coherence as his hands traveled down your body.

“My, my, all of them?”

“The night is young,” - his throaty chuckle sent a wave of heat through your body - “and I’m up for a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it,” you breathed, burying your fingers in his hair, and pulling him into a kiss again.

Actually, the challenge started right away, and that meant getting to Neil’s place, as the company conveniently rented him a room in a nearby hotel. Walking distance, but in your current quite heated state, every distance seemed way too long. Especially when you had to keep up appearances.

At least until the elevator’s door closed behind you.

The dark gaze fixed on you. Your breaths intertwining. His bottom lip between your teeth. The five o’clock shadow under your fingertips. Your hands sliding under his shirt. His knee parting your legs. The intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your quiet moan. His tongue slipping into your mouth--

A quiet sound announced you reached your floor, and you stumbled out into the corridor, giggling, unable to keep hands and lips off each other.

Your back hit the door, barely missing the knob. Without skipping a beat, Neil reached to the pocket of his pants, then into the other one. When he tried the third one, you broke the kiss, your expression nothing but innocent.

“Looking for this?” you asked, showing him a key card.

He furrowed his brows. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know how--...” he started, but when he tried to snatch his property, you hid your hand behind your back. His jaw went slack as it dawned on him and he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered as he pulled out his wallet. “Credit card?”

“Only if you’re not overly attached to it.” The roguish lights danced in your gaze. “Especially when you’re in a hurry,” you hinted, palming over the bulge in his pants. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a moan, and you stifled a chuckle. “Try any membership card.”

He glared at you. “You’re so in for it, you have no idea.”

“Promises, promises,” you pouted, trying not to burst into laughter at his wounded expression. “Work it.”

“Gladly, just tell me what to do.”

So you walked him through the process.

Fortunately, Neil really was a fast learner, making the door give way in no time.

“Good boy,” you hummed, and the blue eyes flared up.

He crashed his lips on yours, closing the door behind you.

Then he gave you a taste of what was coming for you.

And then some more.

And then…

...he gave you all.

(next chapter ->)

[crazy-czech-fangirl]

Kristen Stewart - Howard Stern interview

Yesterday I saw the interview with Howard Stern and wow. I’ve never seen her so openly speak about the Twilight era and relationship with Rob. So I decided to transcript the parts about Twilight and Robert because I couldn’t find it anywhere. If you have time go watch the whole interview it’s really worth it!

****

H: The way they’re covering your romance with Robert Pattinson and all this.. I had him on the show and he said no relationship could survive the intense scrutiny that we were under. It was insane.

K: Yeah it was. I mean we wanted to like keep it ours so it was like this thing of going like..well do you like live openly and share your life in a way that actually entitles you to living it sort of more freely and naturally or do you like put it on lock because you hate the idea of perpetuating this like commodified version of your..something that feels real to you and you’re like ‘I’m not selling you shit’! But then you actually deprive yourself of like so many experiences. Like we didn’t walk down the street holding hands because we were like ‘Don’t wanna give it to them’ but then we didn’t get to walk down the street holding hands. And it sucked.

H: Of course it sucked because the best part of the relationship with anyone..

K: Is screaming from the rooftops!

H: ‘I’m in love!’

K: Yeah!

H: And walking around holding somebody’s hand.

K: I know.

****

H: ....Not only were you falling in love with Rob on the set.. Which by the way I think is the biggest mistake an actor can make.

K: There was nothing I could do.

H: The director was even nervous because the first time you guys kind of auditioned together to see the chemistry..it was an immediate chemistry between the two of you.

K: Yeah, yeah. It’s so weird like actually being honest about this like it’s been so heavily consumed and I have this fear that people would assume that maybe I’m like..’oh cool you’re still pushing that narrative’ and it’s like ‘No I’ve actually never been allowed to just say what happened’. Because I was so self conscious about seeming like an attention seeker.

H: Or taking advantage of the fact that you guys were dating.

K: Yeah exactly. We were together for years. That was like my first..you know..

H: Love.

K: Yeah. I mean like I was super in love with my high school boyfriend. Super in love with him. But me and Rob were like little older and it was like *GOGUM*.

H: He’s a charming guy.

K: Yeah he’s the best.

****

H: Rob when he was here told me with Twilight that they wanted to go a whole other direction . They wanted you to be smiling and him to be smiling. Be a lovable little vampire. And he said it was tremendous pressure to act that movie the way he wanted to.

K: Yeah. Honestly thank god he had that.. I mean he like..he wouldn’t do it the other way. And I don’t think he even had that in his wheelhouse like his body wouldn’t do that. And I mean mine either. I was like..The only reason this is good is because it’s like “Aaargh” and they were like ‘But it’s not fun!’. We took a lot of slack. Like we were constantly being like reprimanded and thank god we stuck to our guns because that’s why the movie works.

H: Yes. Yes that’s exactly why the movie works.

****

H: Would you recommend to other young actresses that they fall in love during their movie or should they avoid it? Because that’s my point. You say you couldn’t have stopped yourself falling in love with Rob.

K: I don’t think it’s really a choice..

H: Isn’t it dangerous because the set is such an aphrodisiac. It’s like..

K: Maybe it’s not real. Yeah but then you could apply that to any other...What is?

H: What is real?

K: Yeah.

H: Because they cater to you, they’re treating you like you’re a star..

K: Mmmm no.

H: No? It wasn’t like that?

K: No. Not at all. ‘Get your ass to set and start smiling bitch’. And I’m like ‘Nope’.

H: But did you have a sense that you were in trouble now that you were in love. Because you’re like ‘oh this is cliched I’m falling in love with my costar’.

K: I thought that was the coolest thing ever and I was so proud of it and I was like ‘We’re like rockstars dude’. I was like ‘Yeah you wish you had this.’ You know when you have that thing and you’re like ‘This is the coolest’.

H: Well it’s cool too because you’re really trapped in like high school or college and at least you have this great outside romance going on.

K: It was fun.

H: But it’s always doomed isn’t it because it’s just too much pressure when you got famous as you did so quickly.

****

H: Trump was consumed with the fact that you and Rob Pattinson had broken up.

K: Sure. Yes.

H: And he started tweeting against you saying ‘Hey Rob you can do much better than Kristen Stewart’.

....

K: You would think that he had more important things to do. It’s absurd.

...

H: Did you ever talk to Rob about it? Did you ever say ‘Can you believe the president of the United States is carrying on about our relationship.

K: Yeah we got back together. We like went through a thing and it fucking sucked but like we really wanted to be together...I don’t remember that particular conversation but we definitely were talking about everything at that time.

****

K: I had people genuinely asking me if that relationship was real or fake. And I was like..

H: Like the movie fabricated it for publicity.

K: Right yeah.

H: But they did used to do that in the old days.

K: I know it’s such a weird studio system old school way of...You really think at this point after all these years like that I’m..like that’s how I live my life?

H: There’s no way a relationship could survive the types of scrutiny that you guys had.

K: We were also just so young you know what I mean like there are stages..life is long..yeah.

H: Was there a point you would have gotten married do you think?

K: I don’t know.

H: I wonder..imagine

K: I wanted to..Yeah no I mean like I think I’ve never...

H: If he proposed you would have gotten married.

K: I don’t know. I’m not like a super duper traditionalist but at the same time like I...every relationship that I’ve ever been in I thought ‘This is it’. I’ve never like casually dated..I mean maybe one or two..Yeah I’m not giving everyone that. But like I’ve never really been the most casual person.

****

K: (what she could have done better while acting) .. and certain parts of Twilight. New moon I totally screwed up the like devastating..I was so in love with Rob and so happy that I couldn’t imagine losing him. But now I’m like ‘oh man I could have really done better work in that movie’.

****

H: (Snow white and the huntsman) That movie did really well. And then they didn’t ask you to be in the sequel.

K: We lived in a different time then you know what I mean. I feel like the slut shaming that went down was like so absurd. And they should have put me in that movie it would have been better..not to be a dick but..

H: You’re sayin there was slut shaming of you?

K: Well they didn’t put me in that movie because I went through a highly publicized scandal. So they were like scared of touching that.

H: Because you fell in love with the director? So that’s why they didn’t have you in the sequel? That was a dumb move.

K: I think so.

H: Isn’t that wrong though? Not to put you in a sequel because you fell in love with the director?

K: Well I wouldn’t say that I fell in love with the director...

H: Oh you had an affair..

K: Yeah that was weird..that was a kind of a weird thing. But I definitely...It wasn’t that big of a deal. Do you know what I’m saying. It’s like literally..

H: No because I’ve actually forgotten about it.

K: Yeah..

H: People at the time think it’s a big deal.

K: The work is so much more important. It’s like what do you care if I..I just thought that that movie actually..we could have made a great second one and we could have done it in a functional and healthy way. And then we didn’t ultimately do that and that’s okay because I did other stuff and it’s fine but yeah..that was weird.

H: So you were blamed for not being in the second movie because you had sex with somebody. That’s what you’re telling me?

K: I did not fuck him.

H: Oh you didn’t fuck him?

K: No I didn’t.

H: Oh so why not clear that up? Why not say that?

K: Who’s gonna believe..It doesn’t even matter

H: I believe you.

K: Honestly I feel like you do and I actually feel like this is the most honest setting I’ve ever been involved with.

H: You have been so honest with this so why did you get pegged as fucking..

K: Well because it looks like..you know you make out with a dude in public it definitely looks like you...

H: Oh oh so it was an innocent sort of thing and the media made it out to be a big deal.

K: Yeah I mean look it wasn’t innocent that was like a..you know that was a really hard period of my life. I was like really young and like um...

H: Well it’s understandable you’re a young woman. Yes ok you were going out with Rob...

K: Yeah I didn’t really know how to deal with that and I made some mistakes.

H: Hey guess what everybody does.

K: Yeah exactly. And honestly it’s no one’s business and people get over shit like that. You know what I mean? It’s really not a big deal. Basically what I’m saying is the work to me genuinely was ignored in a really sort of frivolous like silly petty way. For a group of adult people who were like supposed to be running studios and making films that’s what you..I mean honestly the film industry in Hollywood is so fear based and there are like equations that lead people to massive decisions that you assume are creative that are not at all.

H: Yes.

K: And so like that didn’t fit in their equation. And I think they are idiots because if you take a little risk and you make something good people will watch it and like it and pay you.

[minniepetals]

buttercream.01

— summary: you were always adorable in their eyes, sometimes a little too adorable.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, poly!au, ceo!au

— word count: 3.2k

— warnings: none

— a/n: a little something to thank you for everything

╰ part 1: buttercream / part 2: buttercup / part 3: buttermilk / part 4: butterscotch / part 5: butterfly

Sleepy.

You felt so, so sleepy.

If you were in a better position with a better headspace, you would have excused yourself to head on home but no. It was you and your stubborn self and your dumb little crushes on your seven bosses that held you back from wanting to leave.

It was just a casual company dinner where they rented out a private space for all the employees.

So far people had gone drunk and sleepy, most left because they were too tired as the night went by and you, you sat alone refusing to take even a sip of your drink because you knew you weren't good with taking your drinks.

You should have left way earlier but it was the fact that you had seen many ladies flirting with your seven guys that made you stay — they weren't exactly yours, you just liked calling them that — so you sat on the sideline watching everyone else talk and flirt with them.

And as time went on, the sleepier you got, the harder it was to keep your eyes open.

"Hey, Y/N?"

A sweet angel's voice called upon your name.

But you were too sleepy to try and answer back. Your face rested against your hand with your elbow propped up against the table, one cheek squished and making you look too adorable in their eyes.

"Y/N?" Taehyung called again, his forefinger bopping your nose lightly but you swatted it away. In normal conditions, you would have never gotten the courage to do such a thing nor ignore any of your boss's calls. But it wasn't normal, you were drunk on the lack of sleep you had received.

"Is she drunk?" Namjoon asked as a small smile curled along his lips at the sight of you.

"I haven't seen her picked up her drink once this evening," the youngest said.

Taehyung leaned in close to your face, taking in your sweet scent of rose-scented perfume, causing him to smile once he leaned back. "No alcohol, just sweet roses."

Everyone had gone by the time the clock had struck midnight, everyone except them and you. They found themselves a little surprised you were still there, knowing you weren't much of a party girl through observations, but that didn't mean they weren't happy.

Your breathing slowed, your head feeling more relaxed and ready to fall but just as Taehyung was about to catch it from hitting against the table, he had been a second too late and they cringed at the harsh thud.

Soon enough, you were awake again with a whine leaving your lips.

"Stupid Y/N, stop getting off task."

Off task?

They blinked at your words, at the way you seemed to not have noticed your surroundings as you began speaking to yourself about needing to finish your work before the morning sun arrived.

But then your eyes looked up and you found Yoongi sitting just across from you.

A short moment of silence passed as the two of you stared at one another until you burst out in fits of giggles.

"Yoon, why do you look so adorable?"

The man blinked and Jimin almost choked on his drink. "Y-Yoon?" Yoongi stuttered, completely caught off guard. "Did she just called me adorable?"

"I mean, you kind of are," Hoseok shrugged admittedly in a playful manner.

"Is she sleep talking? Or is she just too tired to function?" Seokjin asked from your other side, the place he had walked over to take a few minutes prior to when everyone else had left.

"And you, Jinnie!" You pointed at the man and his brow raised, surprised you had such bravery to do such a thing. Yet when he saw the cute little pout on your face, he knew he couldn't ever get mad at you. "You're always being unfair," you mumbled through your pout.

Seokjin's eyes grew in panic at the sight of tears glistening along your waterline. "Hey, baby, why are you crying?"

"See? That again!" You accused him before letting your hand down as a few tears fell. Their hearts fell for a moment and Seokjin reached out in worry but you were quick to swat his hand away. "Don't call me baby unless you mean it," you scolded with a huff, still sounding cute and adorable like a little child. "Don't give me endearing nicknames if I'm not the only girl you're gonna be flirting with, it isn't fair."

"Baby-"

"And you're even worse than him!"

"Me?" Jimin scoffed in disbelief as he placed his glass down. "How am I worse?"

"Because you openly flirt with everyone you see and it hurts Y/N's heart."

Talking from a third perspective.

They stole glances at the leader but Namjoon could only shrug. It was a habit of his but he hadn't ever known you were one to do such a thing either.

"It hurts your heart, hm?" A smirk danced at the corner of Jimin's lips as he watched you. "And why is that, may I ask?"

"Because!" Your pouting deepened, ready to cry some more and Jungkook who sat next to his hyung was quick to smack the man on the arm. "One moment you flirt with me and then the next, I see you flirting with other girls and it hurts because I thought...I thought you said Y/N-ie was special."

"Y/N-ie is special!" Jimin quickly emphasized, suddenly feeling bad for all his mischievous acts that had only meant to try and make you jealous. But now he realized how wrong that had been as his heart fell at the sight of your tears.

Taehyung went on to wipe your tears away and you allowed him, for a short moment before you looked away, facing away from him.

"You're all at fault here," you said.

"Does Y/N-ie need us to make her feel special? Is that what it is?" You looked up at Hoseok's voice and with a little bit of hesitation, nodded shyly and they cooed at the sight. "Come here, pumpkin."

You crawled over from Seokjin's lap and they watched you sit on Hoseok's lap with your arms wrapped around the man as you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck. Oh how the others wished they were in Hoseok's position.

"Oh come on, Hoseok hyung gets the special treatment?" Jungkook frowned as the older one just chuckled.

"Hobi's a gentleman. But sometimes I wish, I just wish that he would.." A small cub's yawn escaped you and their hearts melted, "treat me like a lady rather than a friend."

"Is that what you want?" Namjoon asked with hope. "Is this your confession?"

But you had already fallen asleep into the actual world of dreams.

.

.

"How the heck did I get home last night?"

You groaned at the uncomfortable feeling of having gone to sleep with your clothes from the night before as you got up. A big yawn escaped out of you just as you noticed a little note left on your nightstand.

We brought you home because you had fallen asleep. Forgive me but I had to look through your bag to find your key. Rest assured, nothing was stolen. Sweet dreams, moonwalker. See you at work — knj

Sweet dreams...moonwalker?

And then you gasped before a scream quickly escaped your lips as the events of the night before flashed through your mind.

"Frick, frick, frick!" You shouted, legs bouncing as you walked around in circles as your heart began drumming loudly and fast. "I'm going to get fired, what is wrong with me?! I got drunk off the lack of sleep! I'm so stupid!"

You stared at the note again and the last words stood out, leaving you to want to burst out crying. "See you at work, he says. He's going to fire me!"

If you could turn back time, you would.

But sadly you didn't have powers such as that so you could only head on to work later that day in hopes of not ever seeing your bosses again — which was dumb because they were your boss so it was inevitable to see them — but at least you'd slow down the rate of getting fired quicker, right?

Wrong.

You were called in by Yoongi's secretary that said they wanted to see you.

On the way to Yoongi's office, you could only blame yourself even more as your heartbeat quickened, knowing fully well of the punishment you were to receive. Heck, you called the dude adorable! And called Seokjin and Jimin out on their flirting but what had that to do with you? You didn't own them, why the heck did you say such a thing? And huddled up against Hoseok?

Oh crap. Hoseok.

You were definitely going to be fired.

"Please forgive me for my rudeness, I was just talking nonsense that had nothing to do with any of you!" Perhaps it was a lie, and perhaps blurting out the first thing that came to your mind wasn't the best thing to do the second you walked into that office but what else could you do to save your career? Your life's worth depended on them and you had screwed up.

"Nothing to do with us?"

Just that simple question and the deep tone of Jimin's voice had your knees almost falling.

"Yes, sir."

"You hesitated," Hoseok pointed out.

"It isn't good to lie, Y/N," Jungkook scolded.

You could only gulp as you stood there completely frozen with fear with your head lowered, refusing to meet any of their gazes due to your embarrassment.

Everyone knew the seven bosses had close relationships with one another, they never hid such a thing. So for you to bravely act up in front of them at your vulnerable moment, you knew you had totally messed up. You couldn't even blame them if they wanted to fire you. After all, you deserved it for the way you had acted.

"Now tell us the truth," Namjoon ordered and you could feel their intense gaze on you. "The things you said last night...were they true?"

They were. Of course they were.

You were jealous of the other ladies that were always brave enough to walk up to them and spoke without stumbling upon their words, without making a fool of themselves. You hated getting your hopes up only for it to be broken down once you'd come upon one of them flirting with another lady. With a pretty lady. Every lady they spoke to were pretty and you'd begin to second guess yourself, wondering whether the outfit you were wearing was good enough, whether you had gone over the top. You'd look at yourself in the bathroom and wondered whether you were pretty enough, whether you were good enough.

And then you'd head back to doing your work with a head down and one of them would come strolling by and make you smile.

Then the routine would repeat just like every other day.

"I..." your voice shook a little and they held their breaths. "What'll you do if I say yes?" You asked, fingers crawled against each other. "What'll you do if I say no? I'll be fired either way, right? Is there a good reason to me giving you an answer?"

Yoongi's brows furrowed. "Why do you think we're firing you?"

"Because I was impulsive and rude."

"You're the most hardworking employee we have here," he said, "What'll we do if we lose a good person like you? It'll be our loss."

"But I...but I-"

"We asked you that question because..." You could hear the footsteps of Seokjin as he walked on over towards you and you held your breath. If they weren't going to fire you then they'd definitely punish you in some ways. But that would be okay, you could take extra paperwork, extra hours, overtime. As long as you weren't being fired, right?

Still, it was scary thinking about it. You were tired enough from all the things that were weighing down on you. But if that were their wishes, you knew you'd have to oblige. After all, you did something unacceptable.

Seokjin stopped just in front of you and took his forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up to look at him.

His eyes softened at your glossy eyes before leaning down to place a kiss on top of your forehead.

You blinked at the sudden action, totally caught off guard and a blush was quick to reach your cheeks.

"What...w-what does that mean?" You stuttered.

Jimin came up to your side, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek while Taehyung placed another kiss on the other side of your face. Your face was heating up, reaching your ears but you could only stand there frozen.

"What do you think, baby?"

Baby?

Namjoon wasn't one to call someone an endearing nickname that easily.

"You mean..." You trailed off, face a blushing mess but they only gave you sweet smiles.

"No firing, no punishments, none of that for our baby."

"Baby..."

Hoseok smiled. "That's right."

"You meant the things you said last night, right?" Jungkook asked, his eyes piercing into yours with cute bunny eyes.

"I..yes, I-I did."

"Good," the maknae smiled, satisfied. "Because we've liked you since forever."

You shook your head. "No way."

"Yes way," Taehyung quickly said. "You're too cute and adorable and you're always so helpful towards others."

"And we've only been flirting with the others because we wanted a reaction out of you."

"That..." You pouted, hitting Jimin lightly on his chest. "That's mean."

"I know, baby, I didn't mean it," he said, pulling you into a warm embrace as he rocked you back and forth. "I'm sorry."

"But hey, at least that got you to speak up about your feelings, right?"

You blushed a little more at Seokjin's reminder and they burst out laughing. "I'm such an embarrassment."

"No, baby," Yoongi grinned, "you were adorable."

"Too adorable for this world," Hoseok agreed.

"And you're ours now."

"Finally our sweet baby girl."

.

.

Life had never been more perfect since then. Everything felt just right, from the secret glances you'd share, the moments they'd sneak you away just to steal a kiss out of you, or when they'd send you winks whenever their eyes met you somewhere in public and they couldn't give you their time.

It was a relationship you had never known you'd ever be a part of but thanked your lucky star for giving you such an opportunity.

Other times when some of them got too overwhelmed with everything, they'd call for you to see them in their office, only for them to rest their heads and use you as a pillow. But you never minded, you were always more than happy to help them out in any way possible.

Other times, like Saturday nights where most of them were less busy and some of them didn't have to head into work the next day, you'd come by their place and relax.

Jungkook had fallen asleep at some point when you were rambling about random things. But you couldn't blame him because you were sure he must've been really tired from all the works he had to do.

At least, that was what you thought but Jungkook was only resting his eyes, content with everything in his life now that they've got you.

"Kooks?" You called his name in a soft manner. Jungkook would have replied back but then he wondered what you'd do when you thought that he was asleep so he remained quiet, surpassing the urge in wanting to smile.

He felt your tiny finger bop his nose before moving on to lightly trace along his lashes and wondered what you were thinking about. "You know, I still can't believe this is real." Your voice had always been soft and sweet but the way you said that came out into a breathless whisper and just for that, Jungkook had almost pried his eyes open. "It feels like a sweet dream and I feel like the luckiest girl to be alive, being able to love and be loved by seven most kindhearted and handsome men and I just..."

He could feel you inching closer and closer and before he knew it, your lips pressed softly against his lips but they had backed away too quick for his liking.

"Crap," you whispered and he could already see you blushing. "What if he was awake? What if he felt that? Y/N, you little idiot, why would you do that?"

Cue his time to open his eyes.

"What if I was awake all along?"

Your breath hitched and Jungkook grabbed your wrist before you could try and escape. "Kook, why would you pretend to sleep? I-"

He grabbed your face and slammed his lips against your lips. "Did that feel real?"

You blinked. "Hm?"

Again, his lips fell on top of yours but that time it lasted longer, sweeter, softer. "Did that feel like a dream?" Your man asked the moment he backed away only enough so that he was hovering just an inch away from you.

"N-no..." You mumbled through a pout, a sight he couldn't help but to place another kiss on your lips. "S-stop."

Jungkook raised a challenging brow. "You want me to stop?"

"Well..no, but-"

"If this is the only way I can remind you that none of this is a dream, then I'll continue doing it even until you've finally figured it out in that little head of yours that this is all real."

"Kook..."

"I love you," he confessed and if you weren't surprised by his actions then, you were totally awestruck at that moment.

"Dropping the bomb without us, huh?"

The two of you looked over towards the bedroom door to find Hoseok walking in while the others followed just behind.

"It was the right time," the maknae shrugged as he got up from hovering above you while you remained frozen, still a little unsure whether you had heard right.

Yoongi went on to take a seat on the bedside, arms gesturing towards you. "Come here, baby girl." You obliged, letting him help you sit up so that he was able to hold you close. "What Jungkook said is true, we all love you, we just couldn't find the right moment to spill it." You looked up at the rest. Some looked shy, the others hiding that shyness behind a sweet smile. "Now you don't have to say anything if you aren't ready, we don't want to force anything out of-"

"I love you!" You blurted out without much thought and your cheeks flushed with a beautiful rose blush. "I love you so much," you said again. "Why does this feel like a sweet dream?"

"It isn't," Jungkook promised as he came up from behind, snaking his arms along your waist and chills were quick to fall down your body.

"And we'll remind you every day that it isn't," Namjoon avowed and you could feel the sweet lingering kisses that fell on top of your body.

Kisses of silent vows of love.

[melanated-maddy]

TYTON

Hey welcome to this fan fiction. I recently finished war storm and I’m in love with Tyton. Couldn’t help but want to right a fic after seeing so little on this guy on tumblr. Don’t know if I’ll write more as got exams but if you like let me know! All characters and world and everything belongs to the queen herself Victoria Aveyard

Chapter 1

“Debark, debark, debark.”

Tyton was snapped out of his musings pale fingers still gripped against the fading cover of his book. They’d finally arrived back in Ascendant after another long plane journey. A year after the kingdom of Norta was officially dissolved with Cal’s abdication there was still unrest with the Silvers. Too many houses had attempted to feel comfortable on the sparkling throne. ‘Osanos says water comes after fire, Rhambos is taking strength and power a little too literally and Merandus is trying hard to distance themselves from the insanity their own brought forth in Maven and actually claim the throne. At least there’s no more Samos worries. That ship sailed or should I say smashed along with Volo’s head with his offspring are safely tucked away in the capital.’ The soldiers on the plane had started their move off some in a rush to get home to worried families and others ready to have a drink. Davidson was the closet family Tyton had after his own lost their lives to a raid. His mother, father and two younger brothers all gone in an instant. That instance was the first time Tyton’s ability was able to properly manifest. Properly surge. Properly show how dangerous he was. It was Davidson who found him when searching the wrecks of homes and families. Still holding his brother’s Aeon’s hand tears in his eyes. Davidson was always quiet even back in those days and knelt to Tyton’s small height hugging him close. After that day Davidson properly set about burying the family well allowing Tyton to grieve and giving him another place to call home. He’d never admit it, but Tyton was lucky...relieved that Davidson and Carmadon took him in. Even if those raiders who had taken his family from him deserved his rage, he was terrified of the lightning under his skin. With a huff, Tyton uncoiled his long body from his seat standing and stretching up to remind his muscles of their function. The suit he wore was dark not one of the traditional Montfort green it just would not do for some missions. Under his seat he pulled free the small bag carrying a bottle of water, bag of nuts and stored the book into it securely. It was the last thing he’d received from his parents and even so he still struggled to get through it properly. As Tyton turned to move out the aircraft door onto the tarmac he spotted Mare struggling to reach an overhead compartment to grab something. He quickly moved forward and grabbed hold of two items: a maroon scarf and backpack.

“Thanks.”

“No worries I’m always available to help the vertically challenged.”

Mare’s face turned into a vivid shade of crimson and she moved as if ready to punch his arm when Cal swung his head back into the cabin. He seemed exasperated which quickly shifted to a swift glare as his eyes settled on how close the two were.

“Tyton.”

“Cal.”

“Mare what's taking so long?”

“Difficulties getting the scarf and backpack you decided to thrust into the overhead bin. As well as being ready to obliterate string bean here.”

Tyton gave a chuckle, although he was slightly leaner than Cal a string bean he was not.

“Don’t worry just helping her out she’s still yours, your highness.”

Cal bristled with the label, but Tyton was already strolling out onto the blinding tarmac doused in bright light.

As he got his bearings about himself, Tyton could not help feeling the pulses of electricity going off in every person around hims body. Just as you could imagine different emotions and thoughts had different electric compositions. As people moved around he recognised stress signals, pulses of joy and shifts of concentration. The signals never went away but with time he’d found away to keep them working in tandem with him so he didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Tyton come on rides here.” Rafe called his hair in the sun giving the appearance of green flames.

Tyton walked to the transport, long legs eating up the distance in a few moments to be face to face with Rafe. Ella must’ve caught a different one as the storm addict’s blue hair was no where to be seen. Together the two walked towards Davidson who was speaking to Arezzo in hushed tones. With a nod she was dismissed walking instead of jumping to wherever she needed to go. Davidson turned to the two a smooth smile on his face and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a quick trill.

“Rafe!”

A blur of orange smashed into Rafe’s chest holding him tightly as he clutched her back.

Laughing Rafe greeted her, “Iz, nice to see you too, but you’re crushing me.”

With one last tug, Izelle released her older brother a wide grin tugging on her lips as she looked up at him. Izelle, was Rafe’s little sister by a year who shared his dark brown skin smooth and even and bright smile. In her orange dress that spun around her knees and black combat boots, she giggled letting her hair of tight curls circling her head move slightly held back with an orange band.

“Is it wrong for me to have missed my dumb big brother? Am I wrong Tyton?”

Tyton smiled and shook his head as Rafe glared at him.

“So nice to know that it won’t be a strongarm that gets me but my sister’s choke hold.”

Iz shoved Rafe as he rolled his eyes and moved to put his bags in the transport while Iz turned to greet Tyton.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

And with that Tyton opened his arms and Izelle moved into them giving him a tight hug.

‘Her hugs are always great.’

“Thanks for looking out for Rafe. I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not dead somewhere because of you.”

A deep rumble erupted from Tyton as he shook his head. They walked to the transport as Tyton asked how she’d been.

“All good here finally ready to move onto the fourth arc only two more to go before I’m a qualified teacher of education.”

“That’s excellent. You’ve worked hard for it.”

“Yeah it’s been so long definitely the hardest thing I’ve faced, but it’ll be so worth it once I’m in a class with little guys.”

“Do you know what specialism you’ll take yet Izzy?”

In Montfort, classes were not segregated at all with children of all blood types getting the same education to the best standard they could. Those who were Ardent or Silver has supplementary classes to help in coming into their abilities. However, it was courtesy for teachers at normal school to specialise in understanding one blood type well so that support chains could be used in school for any student struggling.

“I’m not sure yet to be honest. I’ve still got to think, might swing for Ardent or Red they’ve already got lots of silver specialists.”

Tyton liked listening to Izzy speak. Her mind although more hyperactive than most was one he enjoyed feeling the thrum of. She would be an excellent teacher one who was fun and silly, but able to understand and be serious when needed. For all her loudness Rafe often called her the thunder to his lightning. As Izzy spoke she tended to often get enthralled by her words and lost her bearings of where she was. So much so she didn’t see a smaller transport squealing into her path. In seconds Tyron had pulled her back allowing the small buggy to rush past on its was.

“Izzy.”

“Ha sorry about that. Forgive me.”

And with a smile, all was forgiven.

“Come on Rafe is definitely going to start a mood if we don’t hurry up,” and with that she pulled his arm to the transport releasing him to clamber up and take a seat next to Rafe. For all the bickering and teasing they did the two siblings loved each other dearly. They had sought refuge in Montfort from the Piedmont principalities with their mother. The two remembered little about their original home as they had left so young, but the happiness Montfort gave them was all they needed. Forgetting all about her conversation with Tyton, Izzy poked Rafe to tell her all about Norta and what things they’d encountered. Izzy had never left Montfort. She was definitely not a soldier, barely remembering to tuck in her thumbs properly when punching Rafe and the Ardent abilities had only passed to him so a useful electricon on the battlefield she was not. The ride to Ascendant was bumpy, Davidson muttering about looking into the concrete and upkeep of the infrastructure when back home. The air rushed in as they sped across the landscapes moving closer to the capital with every second until the transport stopped in a quick halt. The stop was so fast Izzy almost span out of her seat if not for Rafe and Tyton’s arms coming to forth to stop her fall.

“What’s going-“

Davidson was cut off when a terrible crunch sounded off. Leaning forward, he could see one of the transports being crushed the metal casings crumbling against each other. Without a thought Davidson threw out a shield glowing blue in the setting sun surrounding the two vehicles.

“Raiders already?” Rafe hit his head against the seat in frustration before moving out of the car to help passengers in the afflicted vehicle. Tyton quickly went about feeling how many Raiders were out there without being told.

“10, all seems to be magnetron. 3 females, 7 males. Wait they’re leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah moving away.”

Davidson heaved a sigh, “Radio in for some teleporters for the wounded.”

“They’re already here.” Tyton looked out seeing that those badly injured were being jumped back. Being so close to Ascendant meant the teleporters could make the jump.

“Alright then, destroy that transport don’t leave anything of use behind for them.”

With that, Tyton moved to the transport now empty and absentmindedly called forth a storm preparing for a powerful bolt. The skies darkened as his storm came into existence. Davidson let the shield down for a moment to let the bolt come through. In a fraction of a second, a burning bolt of lighting came down from the sky smashing against the transport reducing it to dust and scorched earth. The air singed with crackle as the fire wreck obliterated. Tyton surveyed the scene inspecting the damage to see if it was at a high enough level to not be useful to a magnetron. Being happy with it he turned and started to walk back to Davidson and Izzy, Rafe already sitting in his seat. He was laughing at Izzy as she covered her ears wincing at the terrible sound of the lightning on metal. It was a sound not comfortable for most ears, but Tyton’s power was unheard of in an Ardent. He was different to the other electricons being able to handle electricity more naturally than even them. It didn’t take much for him to call a storm bolt of that magnitude. As he was within a few metres of the transport he suddenly felt a barrage of electrical energy moving towards them. Recognising it as the previous magnetrons he turned to quickly release brain lightning on them being able to drop 4 of them before one let off a spike. Moving out of the way he could do, but the spike still got him in the side forcing him to the ground. Davidson’s shields again went up and Tyton was pulled into the transport as it began to drive away with Davidson’s shields still up. Izzy clambered towards him pulling apart his suit to get a better look at the cut. Her hand pressed down hard as she told Rafe to get the medical kit under the seat. Tyton grasped onto her had holding it down as he grimaced from the pain. “You’re fine it’s only a scratch.” Izzy nervously laughed.

“Of course because scratches produce this much blood.”

“Shut up big baby. I’ve met toddlers tougher than you,” she grinned and Tyton smiled back focusing on her electricity and letting it calm him down in the transport racing back to Ascendant.

[obscure-sentimentalist]

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

[glamrockmonarch]

The Land That Our Grandchildren Knew (B!Reader x Brian May)

THIS WORK IS PART OF THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

Requested: NO

Type: SFW, FLUFF ?, ANGST.

Summary: A little glance at life back to normal after Brian and B!Reader get over the cheating scandal.

Warnings: None.

A/N: So this came out of nowhere in my mind. I have struggled with being creative for a while and I just do not know why(?) but here we are! I hope someone out there enjoys reading this one.

*For anyone who does not remember (lol it has been a while): B!Reader (often B!R) is "Brian!Reader", and R!Reader (or R!R) is "Roger!Reader".

“The one thing he did not know was how much I loved him. In a previous life, in a time when things were so much more complicated. When war was splitting us apart and leaving us breathless. Motionless in a world of aggressive turmoil. There was little we could do when everything was amiss. All around us things were blowing up, giving in upon themselves the buildings fell, and the cities died along with their lights and spectacles.

“The love I grew and nurtured for him was the last reminding power of the old Earth, scattered through the cosmos like dust as I searched for him in a ridiculous journey. I did not meet a king in a tiny planet, and I never saw a rose grow on the dry lands of the foreign space countries. We had each other but time made it so that I was here today while he was here yesterday. Today was never ours, today was a promise we believed and ate up and followed with blind eyes until the moment when the sound of truth, deafening and cruel, locked us out of each other’s life. And still, forever, my love for him is true and enduring. Out there, I know he will feel my presence in the air, see me in the clouds, savour me in the smell of rain and grass. He will miss me when the night is cold, and the sound of wind reminds him of my voice… Yes, he will be empty when he hears the silence, the way I will always feel too when I look back at Earth and regret every second spent away from the one who called me Venus.”

The crowd claps and smiles and I see the people in the front look at the books in their hands with expressions of confusion and deep thought. A good reason to write something is to make people wonder, so for B!Reader this one was a success. She had taken so long to finish the manuscript, not that she was being lazy; with the scandal of Brian cheating and the twins taking sides, it was hard to focus on this. This book was not what she intended on writing when she began doing research for it. It started with the Irish War of Independence, she went around Britain meeting historians with much better understanding and knowledge on the topic. It soon turned upside down when the news appeared on every single form of media… Brian’s stunt. She would call it what it was now; he had cheated.

It was hard to get over it. B!Reader took time off with her mother in Scotland, she had taken the kids with her, much to Brian’s displeasure, but he was in no position to complain. When she came back home, she was still defeated by the details. Brian’s lame explanation sounded more like an excuse but even she had to admit that her husband did not have the best track record when it came to women. She was probably the one he had been the most loyal to at that point – even when he had cheated on her once.

So, she tried. They sought professional help. A therapist. First couple’s therapy, and then one-on-one sessions alone. She hated every second of it, which could not have been fun to hear for their therapist. Nothing seemed to be helping, in fact B!Reader talked to a lawyer in secret… but her career was also on the line at that point, and she was desperate for ideas, desperate to reconnect with the only man she ever truly and completely loved. Her manager had the idea, “read some of Brian’s stuff, maybe ask him about his PhD work, maybe he will inspire you and if he doesn’t at least you will have spoken to each other… it’s worth a try”. And so B!R did that, although not in the way her manager had meant. She was stirring her on the direction of reading some of his lyrics not his space dust thesis… Nevertheless, the story began there.

B!R could not understand much, and she wound up spending a lot of time talking about physics and space with her husband. Brian was a patient teacher, she already knew that, but it was now being confirmed to her. He was also happy to be able to go on and on for hours, the topics where his cup of tea, and they had numerous cups of tea too while B!R took notes and began toying with a historical fantasy mix for her next book.

Today she was reading from her favourite chapter in the book. It had been a massive hit; one she could not quite understand. If she was being honest, the book was more like therapy for her than her actual therapy sessions had been. She cried while writing it and poured a lot of emotion into it, which she rarely did. Her writing had always been more …impersonal, presented almost as a sort of biography of fictional characters rather than real moving parts of the imaginary world they were living in.

She had never written such an odd story before, with time skips and a weird space journey concepts implanted in the middle of 1920 Ireland.

“You did great, mum.” A proud Fred wrapped his arm around her middle.

Even though the teen boy was still that, a teenager, he managed to already stand a couple centimetres taller than his own mother.

“Thank you love, did you get anything of that?” She wondered, wrapping her arm around him in the familiar way a mother does.

Arm around his shoulder, soft play of the tender fingers on the dark curls on the back of the head of her “little boy”.

“Nothing at all,” he smiled and shrugged, honesty dripping in shameless glee from his tone. “But that’s the cool part, I don’t think anyone gets it.” The younger of the twins looked at his mother up and down in her bright blue dress. “Except Dad. Was that the point?”

B!Reader looked at her son and inhaled a deep long breath, which she held for a moment. Her brows furrowed and her mouth moved like that of a fish.

“Maybe.” She conceded.

“Hey mum, would you sign my book?” Harry interrupted, bringing along Jazz and a peculiarly uninterested Max.

Harry gave his mother a wide smile and put a copy of her own book in her hands.

“For Harry, please.”

“Dork,” Max rolled his eyes.

He was the only one to admit he had not finished the book yet the previous weekend when Fred mentioned his mother was doing a reading at a local bookstore while they sat by the Taylor’s pool. And he rushed to get through it. Max was not dumb, and he managed to grasp some of the concepts in the complicated plot, although he did not let on to any of his friends.

“Loved the wormhole bits Mrs May.” Max said once Harry had his signed copy reading for Harry with Love. “That dark hole and the speed of dark and light near the end were mind-blowing. I never thought of you as a fantasy writer!”

B!Reader nodded and blushed at the compliments. Max was a lot like Roger in that he did know how to make a girl blush with what appeared to be little effort.

“I am glad you liked it,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice.

“I really wish Darragh and Conor had ended up together,” Jazz voiced from around Harry’s tall lean and awkward teen figure. “They were obviously meant for each other.”

Fred had been in tears when he read the ending of the book. Of course, he would have hoped for his mother’s first queer paring to end together but what that did was echoing life.

“You have to be the eighth person who’s said that to me today.”

R!Reader, Roger and Brian were in a conversation of their own next to the long table B!Reader was about to sit before to meet some fans and sign as many copies of her book as time allowed.

She eyed the silver hair on her husband’s hair, she had been discreet when describing Darragh in her book. A tall, talented, middle-aged, idealist Irish man. A man born in a difficult time. A man who fell in love by mistake, with Conor. A young man described often as immature, who enjoyed a quiet life on board of a spaceship when he got caught up in a black hole and wound up going back hundreds of years and miles into the past. Conor had almost been killed in his attempts of helping his beloved Darragh in fighting what he considered to be hiswar. The battles gave their relationship meaning, although it was never spoken about between them. The adoration was always palpable and present to the last page. Down to the moment when Conor acknowledges that his lover cannot come with him once he finds the way back into his ship, and then it turns into a matter of will. Darragh is revealed to have a similar story, only that… he was left stranded in 1905 with no way back to his ship. “The voice of Venus” was really a metaphor for B!Reader. A complicated one, as her feelings were when she had to love the man who broke her heart. She felt lost the way Conor felt, but she could tell Brian had been lost for a while before the entire ordeal – defeated in the same manner as Darragh. And it was fitting, he was older, he was educated. He should have known better than to play in the physics lab with those dangerous materials. Brian should have known better than to play with that old woman. Conor could have turned his back on Darragh, he knew he was of no help now that he was so invested in the past – now their present. He knew Darragh and himself would never be able to be together if he stayed and they would most likely get killed if they marched on. So B!Reader made them split. She was about to leave Brian when she started writing her book, so it made sense. And when she realised, she did not want to end her marriage, she still wrote it that way because this was the ending she had seen coming for herself before – one she fortunately managed to evade, which still was the ending for many couples.

B!Reader watched the teens as they began discussing the book, Max and Jazz were defending the plot, Fred joined in and the three of them seemed to be getting passionate about proving Harry wrong. The eldest of the group was stubborn about his stance on Conor being right to leave Darragh.

His mother could not help but remember that same stubbornness from the first few weeks after the story broke. Harry had been the one to take it the hardest. When they packed for Scotland, she had to stop him from shattering his project guitar, the yellow guitar he and Brian had been working on for a while. “I don’t want it! I do not want anything from him! He is a liar!” He had yelled, with the side of his face still reddened from a slap he received from Brian. She still could not believe she managed to stay impartial at that moment after the mess that had happened in the kitchen when Harry insulted his father – earning a slap from him.

“It’s alright,” B!Reader placed her arm around the twins’ shoulders. “Conor had to go back anyway. He had a family in the spaceship.”

“What?” Jazz was the first one to open her mouth.

With a laugh, the young writer looked at the confused faces around her. “He could never stay…” She shrugged.

Harry’s expression flashed with a difficult emotion, which both Jazz and his mother noticed.

The short girl flipped her long blonde hair and checked the time on her phone, “no wonder I’m hungry! Who’s coming?” Her blue eyes searched around in an almost innocent manner.

“You got to be joking, we JUST ate.”

Max stepped back from his sister and Fred followed, “sorry, I told dad I’d get lunch with him.”

Blue eyes flipped onto Harry’s figure. B!Reader gave him a squeeze and let go, the sigh he let out being enough of an answer for Jazz to show a large smile, reaching out to grab his hand and pull her to her side. It almost seemed a pass of the baton.

The boy walked taller than Jazz and still, it looked like he was the smaller child. She was sure they had been doing a good job as parents, although that slipdid a number on Harry. The curly haired boy pulled the glass door open and let Jazz go first, only to have her childishly cling on to his arm once they were outside, a smile breaking his serious expression when his young friend told him something – they were too far for B!Reader to make out what Jazz said.

“Where are those two going?” Brian walked up to her.

He had a cardboard cup of coffee in his hand, which he offered to her. With a mumble she took it and had a testing sip – it was too bitter, but it would do. “Nando’s. Probably.” She gave her husband a soft smile.

Brian nodded in silence, a reflective look on his face.

“He needs some time, Bri.” She guessed what he was thinking about.

“It’s been a year,” he said with caution.

“He is getting over it, love.” She took a step closer to Brian and whispered, “he’s picked up the guitar again.” They shared a look before someone called for B!Reader and she left her husband with a peck on the cheek.

[bi-naesala]

It feels good, being back together. Has been a while.

They’ve finally found a free day for everyone - they all have a pretty busy schedule after all - and they’ve decided to spend it on a picnic. They might be older now, but chaos will surely ensue one way or another, not that it matters however: as long as they’re back together, nothing can go wrong, even when things actually go wrong but shut up, that’s not the point.

Maybe they shouldn’t have gotten this much alcohol, but who cares. They’re adults now they can do what they want.

Who can even stop them?

  All things considered, it’s going pretty chill. It could be much worse, but for now they’ve just started a completely accidental fire that they luckily managed to pull out immediately, so everything’s in the norm.

Some people are more hammered than others. Personally, Riz is trying to stay away from the alcohol as much as he can - it never bodes well when he drinks.

He’s still enjoying himself, basking in the company of his friends. He can’t deny that he misses highschool - even the shitty parts of it - because at the time they were always together. Now some people are at college, others on tour, and others who knows where, adventuring…

 Speaking of adventuring, Fabian looks like he’s about to say something. He hasn’t talked much until now, which is weird because c’mon, it’s Fabian, so this has to mean that there’s some kind of announcement he had to make.

To confirm Riz’s hypothesis, soon Fabian suddenly stands up from the circle they had formed.

“Ok guys, listen up!” he exclaims.

Of course, if anything, the chaos doubles because now they are asking him what he wants to say and make theories between each other. Riz believes he even hears his own name being said, but he pays it no mind; the days of hoping that one day Fabian was going to theatrically confess his love for him in front of an acclaiming crowd - yes, he might’ve spent too much time and energy on this fantasy - are long gone. He gave up hope already.

Besides, if that was something important, he would’ve said it already via crystal, not now that they’re all different forms of plastered. It’s surely going to be some nonsensical bullshit.

“I didn’t want to tell you before ‘cause I felt I should’ve done it face to face ‘cause it’s important.”

… And of course Fabian has to prove him wrong immediately.

 This time everyone falls quiet, curious as to what Fabian has to say. Riz himself can’t deny a certain trepidation - he’s always felt like that when Fabian’s speaking.

Fabian clears his throat, clearly taking his time.

“C’mon! What is it?” Kristen shouts. Yes, Fabian should get a move on.

“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you…”

 “I’m bi!”

 Silence. Complete silence.

Then, all of a sudden, all their voices erupt, cheering and whistling and asking Fabian when he figured it out, where he figured it out, how he figured it out…

Riz hears none of this. He’s staring at Fabian, eyes wide and mouth agape.

He’s… he’s bi. Fabian has just said he’s bi.

 He can’t help but to remember all the years he spent yearning, hopelessly pining for someone he thought was never going to reciprocate, keeping everything inside out of fear that revealing it would only ruin everything… and now it turns out Fabian’s bi.

 He just… He can’t stay here anymore.

His mind is overwhelmed by thoughts and information. If he remains there he’s going to explode.

He doesn’t say anything as he gets up, bolting away. Where? He doesn’t even know; as long as he’s far enough it’s fine.

  If the others notice his absence, they don’t seem to do anything about it, at least to Riz’s knowledge, though he has to admit that he’s barely paying any attention to his surroundings, not with the mess of emotions that’s exploding in his head. His ears ring and he feels like shit.

It’s not even about the revelation per se, more like--

 “The Ball! Riz!”

Riz turns around and he sees Fabian jogging towards him.

He plants his feet on the ground, resisting the urge to flee. Even if Fabian’s company will definitely make processing all that has happened harder, he can’t just begin to ignore him.

He lets him catch up.

 “Hey, you alright?”

“Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Riz nods, quite unconvincingly however.

“You sure?” Fabian asks in fact, “You don’t look fine.”

Before Riz can have a chance to explain himself - or more likely, tell another lie - Fabian speaks again.

“Is this about what I said?”

“What? No!” Riz lies, “I’m good, really, just a bit tired…”

“Bullshit, Riz!” Fabian exclaims. He’s beginning to lose it. “You think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t see it?”

As silence grows heavy between them, Fabian’s rage completely deflates. Now he just looks sad.

“I thought you would’ve accepted me…”

Oh. So this  is what Fabian’s upset about! He has no idea how wrong he is! Riz has to do something about it.

“Of course I accept you!” he says. He wants to face  Fabian as he speaks, but he doesn’t have the strength to do so and he actually closes in himself more by crossing his arm to his chest and making himself smaller. He’s so nervous that he chuckles. “It’s dumb, actually…”

Seeing that there’s no way Riz is going to look at him Fabian simply walks around him until they’re face to face again. Now he looks curious, and Riz can’t help but to go on, even though he feels like he’s bursting inside.

“It’s just that… I had this crush on you for such a long time,” he mutters quietly, almost afraid that Fabian’s going to hear him, “But I never said anything because you were straight and I didn’t want to ruin everything. A-And now it turns out you’re not even actually straight…”

Silence. Fabian doesn’t say anything.

“See? I told you it was dumb--”

 Before he can even finish that sentence Fabian’s onto him, mouth pressed against his. It’s immediately clear from the way he presses his tongue to part Riz’s lips that this isn’t just a way to shut him up.

Oh. That’s what it is, then: they both are incredible fools.

In a moment, everything is clear. It feels like living in a book, one of those stories where the characters get their much desired epiphany at the end of their journey, where all the small bits and pieces and moments come together, where everything finally makes sense.

This isn’t the end of their journey, far from it actually. Well, at least Riz hopes so, because it would be absolutely sad if that wasn’t the case.

Riz can’t even tell how he’s feeling in all this; it still seems too good, too surreal. If he suddenly wakes up and discovers that this is all a dream, he wouldn’t be surprised.

It’s not a dream, however: Fabian is truly kissing him like he’s fantasized so much when he was but a teen. Man, if only he could travel in time and tell his younger self what’s waiting for him, he’s sure he wouldn’t believe it not even if the news comes from himself.

 When they pull away, they’re both breathless. This has been intense for both of them.

Who’s going to be the one breaking the silence, now? Apparently, it’s Fabian.

“Sorry if it took me long so figure it out,” he says, smiling apologetically to Riz, who shakes his head.

“It’s fine. You took the time you needed,” he replies, meaning every word of it.

If on one hand it would’ve been nice if he had actually figured it out earlier, on the other he knows that this is a journey that can’t be made with haste.

Despite how much he’s suffered because of this, he can’t say that he regrets it now. No, he thinks when Fabian smiles at him and when he closes the distance between them again, it was completely worth it.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, d1163!

Happy belated Birthday, @d1163​! We hope you had a wonderful day back on the 3rd, and got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @endlessnightlock​ has written a story just for you!

“I shouldn’t be very long,” I tell Madge, standing in front of my apartment doorway as I fidget with the purse strap hanging over my shoulder. I have a parent-teacher conference tonight at Prim’s school, and since I can’t take her with me, Madge will stay here while I’m gone. “Just make sure to lock the door when I leave- I’ll call you when I get back so you can unlock it for me.” I really should get a key made for her; she’s here so much.

Madge shrugs, tipping her smooth blond head to the side, leaning her shoulder against the doorway of the apartment I share with my sister. 

I appreciate my best friend’s help- I’ve had to rely on her to help me with Prim quite a bit lately; bless her, she never complains.

“It doesn’t matter when you get back. Primmy and I have a full schedule for the night, don’t we?” she says as my sister appears in the doorway behind her with her twin blond braids hanging down her back. I swear the two of them look more alike than Prim and I ever will, but we are only half-sisters; Prim’s the product of my Mom’s second marriage. 

“We’re going to give each other pedicures,” Madge continues. “In fact, why don’t you go out and do something by yourself while you’re gone? Go window shopping- or maybe you’ll meet a cute single dad you can ask out for drinks.”

I frown at her. My best friend has been encouraging me to “get back into the dating game” for a while now, no matter how often I reiterate I’m not interested. My plate is more than full since we lost Mom and her husband a few years ago, leaving me as Prim’s sole guardian. 

Besides, my sister is only eight- she needs all of my attention right now, no matter how often she tries to tell me otherwise. 

Prim is just as bad as Madge the way she’s always saying I should find a guy. I know she’s hatched some sort of scheme to set me up with her new friend Kaylee’s dad. I’ve never met him but seeing as I’m twenty-two and the girls are eight; I imagine he’s way too old for me, even if I were interested in dating- which I am not.

“Yep,” Prim agrees, grinning up at Madge, “we’ll be just fine. So go, you know, get you some or something.”

“Get you some or something?” I repeat, frowning at first Prim and then Madge, who is the most obvious culprit in the guessing game of Who’s Teaching Prim Adult Expressions. “You shouldn’t say things if you don’t know what they mean, Prim.”

“I know what that means,” Prim rolls her eyes at me while I sputter in disbelief. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t look at me!” Madge says when I glare at her, “I didn’t teach her anything. She’s just grown-up for her age, more than you were, Katniss. Now go-”

“And get me some?” I interrupt, eyes narrowed because I don’t trust Madge in this matter any further than I can throw her. 

“No, you’d better go, or you’re going to be late for your parent-teacher conference, silly,” Madge says.

She’s still laughing when she shuts the door in my face. 

There was no need for me to hurry because Ms. Trinket, Prim’s teacher, is still in a conference with another parent when I arrive at the school. I quickly realize she must be running even further behind that just with me because a man is waiting in the hallway as well. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling warmly at me from his place against the cinder-block wall. I don’t recognize him, but he has to be one of the parents I haven’t met yet.

“Hey,” I reply, studying him briefly, then looking away before it becomes apparent I’m doing it. The man is good-looking, one of those muscular, compact-looking guys who aren’t super-tall but aren’t short either. He’s got wavy blond hair and blue eyes, and if I were to wager a guess at how old he is, I’d probably say early to mid-thirties. 

“Who are you here for?” he asks conversationally, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t met a lot of the other parents yet.”

I shrug. I don’t usually make small-talk with men I don’t know, but he seems non-threatening. 

Still, I hold back a bit- he’s attractive in a way that seems inappropriate for some reason. I guess I worry that he’s married or something; I don’t want to be that person who’s flirting with someone’s husband or partner. 

Not that I’m flirting- I’m barely even talking to the guy, yeesh- way to overthink things, Katniss. “My sister is Prim Everdeen,” I explain, “I’m her guardian.”

“So you’re Katniss,” he says, eyes rounding in surprise- they’re kind of ridiculously blue and on the largeish side, so it’s a comical sight.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Kaylee’s dad- Peeta. Peeta Mellark.” He sticks out his hand for me to shake.

“Oh,” I answer. And then, like a nincompoop who’s caught off guard by this new information, and the fact that he’s trying to shake my hand, I go on- “you’re the one Prim is trying to set me up with.”

But instead of getting flustered (the way I am for saying something so dumb to an attractive, single man I just met and will probably see again after today), Peeta laughs, although he does drop his hand to his side. “So I wasn’t just imagining Kaylee talking up Prim’s sister then, huh?”

“Guess not. What, ah, what did your daughter say about me?”

Peeta smiles at me. “Just that you were young and pretty, and you’re a good sister to Prim.”

I feel myself blushing underneath his gaze. I wonder if he agrees with his daughter’s assessment of me.  “I don’t know why they think they need to meddle in our lives, right?” I ask, trying to cover my embarrassment by keeping the conversation going.

“Because they love us, for some reason. I guess,” Peeta says. 

I have to smile at that. 

Behind us, the classroom door opens. Lavinia, one of the parents I know slightly, walks out of the room. I notice her studying Peeta for a moment, but when I say hello, she turns her attention to me as she leaves. 

Ms. Trinket appears in the doorway a moment later. “Sorry about the hold-up, Katniss. I’m ready for you now. Mr. Mellark,” she says, seemingly surprised to see him waiting in the hall as well, “what are you doing here now?”

Peeta looks confused. “My conference was scheduled for five, or at least I thought so. That’s what the paper Kaylee brought home said.”

“No, mine’s at five,” I say, “unless there was some kind of mistake.”

Ms. Trinket frowns at us both. “I’m not sure where the mix-up happened, but I don’t have you scheduled for today, Peeta. However, if you have time to wait, I can squeeze you in once I’m done with Katniss.”

He quickly agrees. “I’m already here, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just wait.”

“Sounds good. Are you ready, Katniss?” 

I follow Ms. Trinket into the room as Peeta pulls his cell out of his back pocket. 

I walk out of the classroom about twenty minutes later, following a brief meeting. 

Thankfully, Ms. Trinket didn’t have any significant concerns about Prim this year. I knew my sister’s grades were pretty good, so I wasn’t concerned with that, but Ms. Trinket also backed-up my opinion that Prim’s been getting along well with most of the class. Despite everything she’s been through with losing our mom, it’s a relief to be reassured by someone else that my sister is doing okay. I worry all the time about whether or not I’m doing a good enough job with her- a little outside validation is more than welcome.

Peeta smiles at me when I glance his way. He’s still leaning against the cinderblock wall in the same position I left him in. 

Ms. Trinket asked me to let him know she was ready for him, so we have the hall to ourselves. 

“Get to the bottom of things?” I ask, slowing down to talk to him. 

I’d be lying if I said Peeta hadn’t crossed my mind once or twice while I was talking to Ms. Trinkett. He might be quite a bit older than me, but there’s something about him that draws me to him. He’s handsome, but the attraction isn’t just about his looks. I don’t know- maybe the way Prim has talked about “Kaylee’s dad” is influencing my decision, but there is just an innate kindness about him that piques my interest.

“Yeah,” he says, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. He sighs. “Kaylee confessed- she planned it with Prim. Look, I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful young woman, and I know I’m way too old for you-”

“No, you’re not,” I interrupt, surprising both him and myself. I’m not always good at speaking up, but it’s usually a doozy when I do. Peeta doesn’t say anything to refute me, though. 

It’s true; I don’t’ think he’s too old to pass up giving a shot. Peeta’s the first guy who’s interested me in a ridiculously long time, even if he’s at least ten years older than I am. I mean, most guys my age are pretty immature; they all seem to be looking out for themselves. That’s just not something I can get into at this point in my life- I can’t deal with immature boy drama and Prim. Peeta seems like he would be pretty drama-free, and he’s certainly not a boy.

His grin widens. “I’m not?”

I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Do I seem too young for you?”

“No,” Peeta admits quietly, “you don’t.”

I decide just to spit it out- a guy who’s worth anything has to like assertive women, and I’m not into playing games. “Do you want to go get coffee or something after your conference?”

He nods. “I’d love to.”

I know all of this is forward, but what harm can it do to get to know Peeta a little better? I’m not committing to anything, and If nothing else, I’ll make a friend, and Prim and his daughter can rest easy knowing we gave their plan a chance. Plus, I have a feeling our schedules were both cleared on purpose. 

I can’t help but think of Madge telling me I should go out and have a drink with a cute single dad. “She was in on it the whole time,” I say, laughing under my breath.

“What’s that?” Peeta asks.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Do you want to meet me at The Bean Counter in half an hour?” I ask, naming the coffee shop a few blocks away from the elementary school.

“Sounds good,” he agrees. 

After a little awkward wave at each other, we part ways. Peeta goes into the classroom for his conference with Ms. Trinket, and I head out to my car. 

I can’t decide if I should call Madge to bawl her out for this or ask for advice on what to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date, even if it is just for coffee. 

Ultimately, I do neither. Madge and Prim told me not to worry about coming right back, so I don’t even call them to let them know I’ll be home late. I figure they can just sit and wonder what I’ve gotten into tonight.

[whumpinggrounds]

Fresh Start

not super long but a lil update on Mara and Jude! first Mara’s perspective and then Jude’s and let’s be honest everyone here is trying but this is just not an ideal situation for anyone :/ Uh Oh

tagging @shapeshiftersandfire and @killtheprotagonist ! please let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

CW: pet whump, lady whump (there’s not really any whump but it’s like. references/the structure of the story so i want to be safe), dehumanization, angst, bad self-esteem, scars

It’s morning, the sun pouring through the window in her bedroom, and Mara’s feeling wrung out, drained, new. It’s a strange combination of feelings, an emotional hangover that makes her want to roll over and go back to sleep…but that’s not fair. There’s someone waiting in the other room.

Someone she still has to name.

Grimacing to herself, Mara dresses slowly, dragging out the process, wishing it were a weekday so she could at least escape to work. It’s a coward’s impulse, but the thought of the looming conversation makes her want to hide. She could, too. She could hide. She could stay in her room on her phone all day and the girl in the other room wouldn’t dream of looking for her. It’s tempting. It’s really tempting…but after almost an hour of putting it off, Mara decides to face the music.

With a forced smile, she walks out the door, and upon seeing the girl in the other room, her face relaxes into something more real. The girl looks so nervously happy to see her. Mara’s seen the way she fingers her simple black collar, the way that she trails after Mara, doesn’t even like to be in a separate room from her. She may not be Jude but she’s someone, and she looks at Mara like her owner hung the moon. Mara can’t help feeling fond of her, even if, after last night, she feels like she hardly knows the girl in front of her. She’s responsible for the Box Babe. She’d better start acting like it.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept well, Mara. How about you?”

The name comes without a stutter, and Mara feels a surge of affection for the boxgirl. She’s trying so hard. “I slept pretty well, too.”

There’s a pause, a little awkward. The girl starts slowly, hands twisting in the front of her shirt. “Would you…would you like me to make something for breakfast?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Mara waves the girl toward the couch. “Yes, in a minute, but…actually…actually I wanted to talk to you about something.” The girl follows, looking nervous. Her first impulse is to kneel on the floor, but when her knees start to fold, Mara makes sure to pat the cushion next to her. The girl lowers herself onto the couch uncertainly. “I…thought a lot about what you said. Last night. About not being…not being the, the person I…thought you were.” Another tiny, uncertain nod. The girl still looks fearful, and Mara doesn’t know how to do this gently, so she just sighs out all the air in her chest and gets to the point. “I think it’s time to give you a new name.”

The girl’s face changes, but only just. She goes from nervous-fearful to surprised-nervous-still fearful. Mara wonders how long it will take her to stop looking vaguely fearful. It’s only been a week, but then, Mara had hoped there’d be some improvement. Deep down, Mara wonders if this will ever get better, how long she’ll be walking on eggshells around the girl. It’ll be fine, she reminds herself at that grim thought. She’ll…she’ll get better.

“If that’s what you would like, I would like that. Mara. Thank you.” The girl dips her head in a deferential little nod, keeps her eyes on the floor.

“Hey.” Mara chides her softly. “C’mon. Eyes up. Look at me.” Ever so slowly, with no small reluctance, the eyes come back up. “Yeah. There you go. Good girl.” The girl flushes, looking pleased, and Mara smiles back. “So, what name should we pick for you?”

The girl’s eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “I would like whatever name you choose for me, Mara.” The smoothness of her voice tells Mara this chant has been drilled into her a thousand times or more. I would like whatever BLANK you choose for me, Master. Just insert whatever noun your Master happens to be talking about, and there’s an all-purpose response for every question! Barely swallowing a sigh, Mara nods.

“Okay.” Mara looks over the girl, frowning. Naming another adult person is definitely going down as the weirdest thing she’s ever done. Should she pick something generic? Or unique? Or pretty? Something that has a particular meaning? Maybe she should wait – but then, the sooner she stops calling the girl Jude, the better. And thinking of her as the girl is kind of bizarre, too.

The silence feels like it will last forever, and then, unbidden, a memory comes to Mara’s mind. When Jude was sad, she had this tradition – this completely ridiculous tradition, begun by her older sister, which she religiously carried out even while she was at college with Mara. It was Twilight, or rather, watching Twilight. The awful series of Stephanie Meyer books that had become an awful series of movies – Jude had seen the movies probably twenty times, knew almost all the lines by heart. Apparently, her older sister had adored it as a teen, and Jude had adored her sister. When she was sad, it reminded Jude of home. Even Mara had to admit the sweeping shots of ocean and mountains and trees were kind of really beautiful.

So, hardly believing what she’s doing, Mara clears her throat and says the only name she can think of. “What about Isabella?”

The girl nods with what Mara hopes is eagerness. “That sounds lovely, Mara.”

“Isabella.” Mara tests it, and the girl – Isabella, now �� nods her assent. It might be Mara’s imagination, but she seems almost relieved. Mara nods to her, and Isabella springs off the couch to go make breakfast.

Isabella. It’s a nice enough name. Not Bella, though, that’d be a little much, Mara thinks to herself, rolling her eyes. Next up she’ll have to get Isabella some clothes, and some of her own toiletries, and probably a collar, a nice, simple one, just to make her feel secure. She can do that. Mara can do that, can do this, can step up and give this girl the best life she can. She owes it to her – to Isabella, to whatever shreds of Jude might be left in the boxie’s ruined brain. Isabella is hers now. For…forever.

“Isabella,” Mara tries again, and the girl’s voice floats from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mara?”

“Scrambled eggs, this morning, I think.”

“Of course, Mara.”

This, then. Not Jude, but Isabella. Not a friend, but something else. A companion. A…not a pet. Mara doesn’t believe people can be pets, but…but someone that she’s responsible for. Someone she has to figure out how to have a life with.

Okay. Start here. 

_____

It takes a long time for Isabella to understand Mara’s rules. It’s her own fault – her owner is so, so smart, and Isabella’s only got her dumb pet brain to work with. Usually, her owner is patient, and Isabella can figure it out, but it’s confusing, trying to keep up with what Mara seems to want. Sometimes Isabella wishes that Mara would just tell her, but her owner must have reasons for not telling. She wants Isabella to be smart, she wants Isabella to figure it out for herself. Isabella isn’t good at that, but she’ll try. She’ll just keep trying.

Sometimes Isabella tries and tries, and still gets it wrong, and it’s as if Mara wants her to believe there are no rules – but that’s not true. There’s no way that’s true. The handlers taught her that over, and over, and over. Her owner wants things from her. The alternative is too scary, because if owner doesn’t want something from her, that means…that means she doesn’t want Isabella at all.

Shuddering, Isabella shuts her eyes against that thought. She’s not going to think about that. She’s going to think about the rules. If Mara doesn’t want to tell her, it’s Isabella’s job to figure it out on her own, and Isabella is going to prove that she can be a good pet, that she’s worth it.

First, Isabella is supposed to call her owner Mara, even though the first-name basis feels strange, like putting on airs. At night, Isabella practices, turning the syllables over in her mouth. Mara. Mar-a. Marrra. She needs to be able to say it without a stammer. She sees how irritable it makes Mara when she says it with a stammer, so Isabella chants it every night, tries to use the name in her head. It still makes her uncomfortable, sometimes even makes her afraid. She doesn’t even want to think about what Handler Collins would have done if she called him by his first name – but Mara isn’t Handler Collins. Mara is much more important than that. Mara is her owner, and if she wants to be called by her first name, Isabella will call her by her first name. It’s, it’s lucky that she gets to do that. It’s a gift that Mara is giving her, and the thought of that makes Isabella smile tentatively to herself in the dark.

She practices a few extra minutes for good measure, afraid that all her ruminating counts as questioning her owner. Mara. Mara. Mara. And now…now, what other rules are there? What else does she need to practice?

Look Mara in the eye. The face-to-the-floor approach doesn’t work with Isabella’s owner. In fact, most of the ways that Isabella was taught to respect her owner don’t seem to apply here. Mara wants her to sit on the furniture and speak without prompting, clearly and distinctly. Mara wants her to have ideas, opinions. She wants to be able to have conversations with Isabella, which often end in exasperation, because Isabella just doesn’t have the knowledge or personality to really be interesting to talk to. Still, Mara tries. Her attempts are enough to leave Isabella terrified at her own incompetence.

Does Mara want a reason to punish Isabella? The thought makes the girl squirm uncertainly. She’s supposed to be…she’s supposed to be good. If Mara wants to hurt her, she should just hurt her. Isabella doesn’t know how to earn it on purpose. That’s not how things are supposed to work. She wants to be good, but sometimes when she’s trying to be good, trying to be easy and pliant, all it does is make Mara’s eyebrows furrow, make Mara grimace, make Mara heave one of those huge explosive sighs.

Isabella is just stupid, is the problem. She’s a stupid little pet, and Mara wants so much from her, believes so much in her. It makes Isabella happy, when her owner praises her or nudges her toward doing things on her own, but it also makes Isabella afraid. If she messes up, she’ll make Mara angry, and that’s the last thing that Isabella ever wants. She loves her owner! Mara brought her out of the facility, and she feeds Isabella every day, and lets her sleep on the couch, and never hits her or hurts her. Isabella wants badly to make her owner happy. She wants to earn all the rewards she’s being given. She just doesn’t know how, and so the lingering fear creeps in around the edges – she hasn’t earned any of the nice things that she has, so what if Mara decides to take them away? What if she decides Isabella isn’t good enough?  

Does Mara…does Mara like her? Isabella finds herself confronting her reflection in the mirror when Mara’s gone at work. Brown hair and green eyes and scattered freckles. Her face is fine – too plain for a Romantic, Collins always told her, but in the end he might’ve been wrong. There was that extra training – that awful, confusing, hideous extra training.

But Mara doesn’t use her that way. Isabella wrestles with the questions, the confusion, turning everything over and over in her head. Finally, after examining every other part of herself, Isabella confronts the last big question, pulling at her t-shirt to examine her scar in the mirror.

It’s an ugly thing, big and rippling, the skin rough and red and angry. It’s like two ragged handprints, uneven and patchy, and it still sometimes hurts her at night, though she doesn’t say a word about it to Mara. In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, Isabella stares at it, defeated.

It’s ugly. It’s a defect. It’s wrong.

Maybe this is it. Maybe that’s why Isabella sleeps out on the couch and doesn’t do much more than light cooking and cleaning. Mara will hug her sometimes, squeeze her hand, sling an arm around her on the couch, but Mara doesn’t use her the way that Handler Collins told her she’d be used. She gets a little irritated when Isabella lingers too close – apologizes for it, says she can’t stand clinginess but – but – but is that really true?

Maybe Isabella is too ugly. Maybe she’s too damaged. Maybe she’s not good enough.

Isabella isn’t in pain, and she hasn’t been threatened. Isabella’s lucky, because there are owners that are much worse, resort to violence far harsher than indifference. There’s really no reason for tears to be leaking from her eyes.