#you can't see her ears and that is a TRAGEDY

[foxfirexo]

hi its my first time writing a lil story like this, I hope it's not too long and you like it!! ^^

*THIS STORY IS ABOUT TRANSFEMS*

you're at a party and you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. it's not some insanely big party, just a group of friends but you only know a few of them and aaaaaaa it's still enough to be loud and overwhelming. you cling to the wall, not knowing how to join into the circle of conversation happening in the middle of the room without disrupting its flow.

this is stupid. why are you even here? you're terrible in this kind of situation. might as well just use the bathroom and then leave, not like anyone will notice-

wait, did that girl just look at you? no, not just that, did she just stop mid sentence and- and did you imagine it, or did her jaw clench and her lips curl into the subtlest of smiles when she saw you?

no no no no you say to yourself as your cheeks flush bright red. you abandon your drink on a side table and flee the scene, now needing to find the bathroom for multiple reasons...

you search the halls desperately trying to find the bathroom, wanting so badly to hide. damnit why do you have to be too shy to just ask somebody where the damn thing is? it's not helping that every time you close your eyes even just for a moment you see that devious little grin and that gorgeous face- wait

you blink a few times. this time your eyes aren't closed but the gorgeous face is staring mischievously at you anyway? you blink a few times, surely you've finally gone insane and this is a hallucination

"going somewhere, darling?" she says, her voice low and dripping with... desire?

you barely manager to stutter out a pitiful, "i- no i- I was j-just trying to find th-the bathroom," but you're finding it really hard to focus fck why is she standing so close that you can smell her fck why does she smell so good fck fck fck

"surely you weren't going to hide away all... this... from me?" too close too close you can feel her breath from here oh god what is she looking at why are her eyes wandering like that

you're slammed with instant regret that you decided you didn't need to wear a bra today, and you are painfully aware of the texture of your tshirt as your very excited nipples say hello to the gorgeous lady who is staring directly at them oh lord what is happening

before your mind can catch up she reaches up and brushes a finger in a thoughtless circle against the hard lil bump poking out through your tshirt. "oh my~ looks like i wasn't the only who felt something between us~" she grabs your wrist and starts dragging you into an empty bedroom but you're still trying to process what she just said. wait, what? not.. not the only...????

the click of a door closing pierces through your confusion and brings you back to the present, only to find yourself being pushed back and falling and- oh you were caught by a bed and- oh shit she's kneeling over you-

"im glad i caught you before you could run away, kitten," her lips find yours for the briefest of moments before leaning in right next to your ear and whispering, "i can't stand the thought of missing out on a tasty little snack such as yourself, that would be a tragedy" *she licks your ear* "hmmm, wouldn't it?"

you go to protest but her knee presses up between your thighs and your words are lost to a moan escaping your lips. your head is fuzzy but you can't help yourself and as if they have a mind of their own your hips start moving, desperately pushing up against her knee, you can't get enough aaahhh

"awww what a pretty little slut," she coos, her fingers reaching down and wrapping around your dick and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. "such a good girl, perhaps I should reward you by using you, mmmm?" she grins and her eyes sparkle at you, she's enjoying this too damn much but nnngh fck its so hotttt

the cold air of the room makes your skin prickle as she tugs off your clothes, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. as she pulls her own shirt off and undoes her bra you forget how horny you are for just a moment as you marvel at how breathtaking her body is, she looks like one of the goddesses just dropped out of the sky and now she's undressing in front of you...

... then your eyes trail down a little further as she tugs off her jeans and you inhale sharply at the sight of her gorgeous dick, already dripping and pulling her lacy blue panties taught. oh my god this is really happening oh my god

she wraps you up in her arms and pulls you into her lap, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear so she can sink her teeth uninterrupted into the supple flesh of your neck. her hardness is pressing up against you now and your heart is racing like a hurricane in your chest. all you can manage to squeak out is a desperate, "p-please.." before she sinks herself into your ass. your back arches and your tits press against hers and it feels amazing, so amazing, you can feel her swollen nipples pressed against your own and you cry out with utter desperation

"shhhh, quiet, pet! I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. nobody gets to enjoy this but me."

you feel sharp nails digging into your back as her throbbing dick thrusts into you even deeper than before, but the shuddering moan trying to escape your throat is silenced by three fingers shoved into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. with that your mind goes utterly blank and your whole body clenches

its too much its too much its too much

you feel her teeth sink into your neck once again, using you to stifle her own moans as she fills your ass with hot cum. you cry out against her fingers and it feels like your whole body is bursting at the seams and in a moment of hazy mind numbing pleasure that seems to hang and stretch out for an eternity....... your body shudders and you orgasm harder than you've ever orgasmed before

your heaving chests still pressed together like the world depends on it, she smiles up at you and you feel a little silly, your mouth dripping with saliva and your thighs covered in the sweet evidence of what you'd otherwise discount as a fever dream.

"what a good girl, a very good girl," she mumbles with a huge shameless grin on her face as she kisses your last few shreds of consciousness away

damn what a crazy part amirite i want to go to a party like this goddamn

[slasherscream]

Wash Day

pairing:  jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[yandere--stuck]

Imagine: Familal Yandere Stanford AND Platonic Yandere Bill, who are both obsessed with Dipper and Mabel.

REAL AS HELLLLLL!!!!!!!!!

---

“Isn't this great?” Grunkle Ford asked, taking a seat beside Dipper on the Living Human Flesh couch. 

Dipper ducked away from a six-fingered hand attempting to ruffle his hair. “That's certainly an adjective you could use to describe this situation.”

“WOW!” Bill shouted (as if he had any other means of emoting.) “A three and four-syllable word in a row! He really is a chip off the ol’ block, Sixer.”

Dipper could feel Grunkle Ford Stanford's eyes on him, practically beaming at the thought that he and his grand nephew were so alike, so much so that they could be considered father and son. Never mind that it was said by an interdimensional demon.

An interdimensional demon that also happened to be currently braiding his sister's hair as they sat in front of a fireplace in the ‘penthouse suite’ of the Fearamid.

One might even think it a sweet moment between an odd family. Two great uncles, one attempting connection with his nephew, the other lounging in a recliner and trying to pretend everything was normal. And his sister, being doted on by what was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, if not every universe. Mabel might have looked happy to anyone looking in from the outside, but Dipper knew his sister better than he knew himself. If she were truly happy, she'd be grinning ear-to-ear, gabbing a mile a minute, talking to Bill about all the hair styles they could try and how he should manifest himself some hair so she could braid him next.

But no, she simply sat in silence and let Bill work through her locks. She forced a smile and stared into the fireplace, flinching whenever Bill moved too fast.

It made Dipper sick.

And maybe, maybe all of this could have been passable if this were something Stanford had been forced to do in the heat of the moment. Something he'd regretted. And that's what he claimed.

But Dipper knew. He knew Stanford was lying. He was enjoying all of this too much for him to regret it. How stupid was Dipper to think that the biggest con artist in their family was Grunkle Stan when it was the guy grinning in his face, yucking it up in the face of destruction and tragedy just because he got to play house with Bill - his so-called mortal enemy.

He wanted to believe that this wasn't Ford's plan all along. Wanted to believe that his great uncle had been corrupted or mind controlled or tortured past the point of sanity. That this wasn't what he'd set out to do from the beginning. But Dipper didn't know what to believe anymore. 

“WA-BAM!” Bill snapped a full-length mirror into existence, allowing Mabel to see what he'd done to her hair, “Whaddaya say, Shooting Star?”

A simple French braid, with little glittery stars woven into her hair. In any other case, Mabel would have been ecstatic. But now, Mabel simply looked up at the demon, an unsure grin forced onto her face.

“Thanks, Bill,” She managed, not able to look him in the eye.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Bill waggled a finger in her face. “Try again.”

Mabel's face sank momentarily and she locked eyes with Dipper. The look in her eyes… It was like she was trying to scream so many things at once through expression alone. It felt like forever, the twins trying to communicate to each other in silence, but it was probably less than a second. If seconds even existed anymore.

Then, Mabel looked up at Bill and put on her best smile. “Thank you, Grunkle Bill, I love it.”

‘Grunkle Bill.’ Ugh. Dipper couldn't help the disgusted grimace that made its way onto his face. He thought he'd hated the triangle when he was actively trying to kill them all, but that was so much worse.

“See that, Pinetree?” Cipher whipped around, floating above the boy. “Why can't you be more like your sister?”

“Oh, Bill,” Ford waved him off with a smile and roll of his eyes. No malice, no contempt, just exasperated fondness.

“I'm just sayin’! We're trying to do family bonding over here, but Pinetree and Fez are being a coupla sticks in the mud!”

“He and Stanley just need more time,” Ford replied, speaking as if either of them weren't there.

Dipper felt sick. Sick from anger, sick from betrayal, sick from utter disgust. Bill's actions were understandable from the perspective that he was a creature from a different dimension. A monster without any need to identify with human morality systems. But Ford was human. A human with family and people who loved him and trusted him and counted on him. A human whose world had been destroyed because of his allegiance to a monster. Because of his feelings for a monster. And he just expects them all to be okay with this? To smile and clap and nod along and pretend everything is okay?

Mabel spoke up, drawing Dipper from his thoughts. “Well, um, Grunkle Bill, if we're doing family bonding time… Would you wanna meet me and Dipper's parents?”

“Say, that's an idea,” Bill turned to Ford. “Whaddaya say, Fordsie?’

Dipper whipped his head back to face his great uncle. He bit his tongue, holding his breath. He felt himself screaming from behind his eyes, trying to will his uncle with his gaze, hoping his expression was enough to implore him to say yes, to be merciful, to at least give him and Mabel their parents back. 

“I…” Ford breathed. “No, I don't think so.”

“WHAT?” Dipper couldn't control his outburst, his shout loud and sudden enough to make his great uncle jump.

“Sixer, c'mon,” Stan spoke up.

“You said it yourself, Stanley, the only ones you count as family are the children.” Ford countered. 

“That was- I didn't mean it.”

“Still,” Ford crossed his arms. “I have no loyalty to them. This is for the best,” Then, the old man turned back to Dipper. “You'll understand one day.”

Dipper glared up at his uncle, baring his teeth so hard he would have sworn they would have broken. But then, a noise broke his concentration.

He turned to see his sister, her sweater pulled over her head as she rocked back and forth, sniffling and surely crying underneath. 

“AWW, now look what you did, Pinetree,” Bill chided, daring to pet at the bit of hair that peeked out of Mabel’s sweater. “You made your sister cry!”

“Me?” Dipper balked, incredulous. 

A six-fingered hand came down to Dipper's shoulder for a comforting squeeze - and the boy bristled with rage, wrenching himself away and off of the couch. Every inch of Dipper's body was over one with disgust, with anger, with hatred. Just looking at Stanford made him sick.

“I hate you,” Dipper spat, trying to fight the tears welling in his eyes. “You're a monster and you're not my uncle anymore.”

Just for a brief moment, Dipper felt satisfaction at the look of absolute hurt on Stanford's face. Then, he all but dove into his Grunkle Stan's hold, burying his face into his jacket. Stan held him protectively, one hand holding the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing circles into his back. And for a few moments, Dipper can pretend he and Mabel were back at the shack and he'd had a nightmare or something and needed reassurance from his uncle. Something he should have grown out of, something Stan would give him shit for later, but even still, Stan would have let him settle into the recliner and drift off to sleep to the sounds of Gravity Falls’ public access TV.

“Please, he didn't mean it,” Mabel's voice was barely above a whisper as she pleaded. “Don't be mad at him.”

“He's just scared,” Stan added, holding Dipper tight. “We all are.”

“There's no reason to be,” Ford insisted. “Dipper, please, look at me. You're my s- my, my nephew and I love you. None of this is meant to hurt you.”

He sure had a funny way of showing it.

He could hear Bill let out a frustrated groan. “Alright, I think this has gone on LONG ENOUGH.”

In a flash, Dipper was suddenly back on the flesh couch, cuddled up next to his not-so-great uncle Ford. He couldn't bear to look at him, simply staring ahead. At his sister. At the fire. At Cipher.

The triangle spoke. “Now, kid, I get this is a big change and all, but the only reason Gravity Falls and all your little friends have been left untouched is because of your uncle here. I think you should be a little more grateful. That is… Unless you don't want your friends to be safe?”

A sneer overtook Dipper's face. All of the anger boiling inside him threatened to burst out in the form of calling Bill every curse word he knew - and even the ones he didn't. 

But he knew better. Dipper gritted his teeth. “No, I do.”

“Then, I feel an apology is in order!”

“Sorry,” Dipper mumbled noncommittally. 

“Not to ME, Pinetree,” The demon laughed. “Though, I appreciate the thought!”

Dipper let out a shuddering sigh. Slowly, as though just looking in Ford's direction took great effort, he managed to meet his great uncle's eyes. And he had the gall to look condescending. As if Dipper were just a child throwing a tantrum.

He hated him. He hated him more than anything. He couldn't believe he ever believed in him, ever obsessed over his work, ever thought he was great, ever thought he was a hero, ever thought to leave behind his sister to follow someone like him.

“...I'm sorry, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper spoke robotically. “I didn't mean what I said. I don't hate you. You're still my uncle.”

“ANNND?” Bill egged him on.

“And. I love you.”

Ford had the audacity to smile. To open his arms wide. To ask, “How about a hug?”

Dipper felt he had no choice. As he was wrapped into a hug by the man who'd betrayed his family, betrayed the world, betrayed the universe, Dipper let himself bury his face into Ford's turtleneck. At least he could hide his tears now.

For a second, it felt as if his hat had disappeared from his head. A four-fingered hand ruffled through his locks affectionately. Then, his hat was back in place.

Dipper fought not to be ill.

“Say, how about an ‘I love you’ for your Grunkle Bill, huh?”

…

“Not now? Eh, that's fine! We've got an eternity for you to come around!”

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 6

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more

Even though you and Ransom have started talking again, you don’t fully trust him like before. He could have warned you about his family’s plans for you.

If he claims he can't escape from his parents' grasp, you find it hard to believe, knowing how Ransom will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s bribed people.

This time, you will stay on guard. At least you’ve got the pen drive with you. It’s your insurance in case someone tries to frame you again.

After Ransom left your apartment, you continued packing up all your things. Being a minimalist, you don’t have a lot of stuff, which is helpful. You quickly gather your essential belongings, load them into your car, and leave the city to return to your hometown.

🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️

In the small town, everyone drives the same type of SUV. So, when your red Lamborghini enters the town, it catches everyone's eye. People are amazed, but there’s also a hint of jealousy, especially from Natasha. She grits her teeth when she sees you flaunting your wealth.

Before heading back to your father’s house, you stop at the pawn shop where you sold your Rolex.

You walk into the store and see Mr. Rogers carefully examining a pearl necklace while Steve talks to another customer. You clear your throat to get their attention.

Mr. Rogers looks up and says, “Yes? Oh, Tom’s daughter. I heard you went back to the city.”

You bristle slightly, realizing every move you make is a topic in this town. “I decided to stay a while to take care of my father. I’m here to buy back the watch I sold previously.” You show him a stack of cash.

“I’m willing to pay more,” you add, placing the money on the counter with a firm expression.

Mr. Rogers nods, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the cash.

Mr. Rogers was impressed with you. “It’s alright. I won’t ask you for more. Wait a second, I’ll get your watch.” Then he called his son, “Steve, could you accompany Y/N?”

'No, don’t leave me,' you thought. There was an awkward moment, but Steve followed what his father said.

He nodded at you, and you did the same. While waiting, you took a good look at him. He looked different, taller, and had put on some muscle. But one thing that stayed the same was the pencil he always kept on his right ear. He’s an artist and always draws, which is why he keeps a pencil nearby.

“Are you still drawing?” you asked.

Steve never thought you would want to talk to him. “Sometimes.”

“You should tell the truth to your dad,” you said.

“The truth?” Steve looked puzzled.

“Your dream of becoming an artist,” you clarified.

Steve widened his eyes, surprised that you remembered.

“Speak up. That’s what I did after I left this town, and everything opened up for me,” you said, then continued, "Not that I care."

Before Steve could respond, his dad appeared with the watch. “Here’s your watch.”

The Rolex, the first luxurious item you ever bought with your own money, was back in your hand. It had been a gamble to sell it, but it was a promise to yourself that you would find a way to get it back.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. Then you left the store without looking back.

After you left, Steve continued to stare at the door, even though your car was no longer in front of the store. Something you said had ignited a fire in him. He turned to his dad. “I want to say something.”

📄📄📄📄📄

You drove back home, the familiar sights and sounds of your small town easing some of the tension from your shoulders. Unexpectedly, Bucky's car was also there when you arrived.

Tom's face brightened when he heard the car, and he eagerly waited at the front door, greeting you warmly as you entered the house.

“Are you exhausted? Do you want something to eat?” Tom asked with concern, guiding you towards the dining table.

You glanced over and saw Bucky, but you chose to ignore him for the moment. On the table, there were scattered papers and a calculator, indicating some sort of ongoing work.

Tom let out a sigh, gesturing towards the mess, “Ah, it’s messy. I’m helping Bucky with the accounting, although I’m not very good at this.”

Then an idea seemed to strike him. Your father looked at you with hopeful anticipation, his hand reaching out to grasp yours, his gaze shifting to Bucky, “Maybe she could be a temporary auditor at your hotel.”

You and Bucky locked eyes, a mix of surprise and hesitation passing between you. What was this? You had just returned home, and now your dad was suggesting that you help the person who had once bullied you?

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Here's the link: Ko-fi

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[luveline]

hi jade! i really loved ur steve drabble where he comforts reader when she's insecure about her appearance. would you write something similar with eddie? i don't mean to bother, thank u for all your wonderful writing <3

thank you lovely!! fem!reader

Eddie takes your hip into his hand as he passes behind you, the snug bathroom an excuse to touch. You don't mind, really, even as the lip balm you're using jolts down onto your chin. 

"Sorry," he says. He's not murmuring, but his voice has an understated sleepy quality to it that you adore. "Just gonna open the window." 

You've finished washing up for the night, steam from the shower clinging to the walls, the shower head dripping with run off. Your bathroom is a rectangle that can barely fit the two of you together, but it's yours, so it's perfect. 

Eddie pushes the window out off the latch to let in the mild summer air. The room immediately cools. Satisfied, he takes a big breath and turns to you with a content smile. "You smell good enough to eat," he praises, putting his hand behind your back. 

You cap your lip balm and brace yourself on the sink. In the mirror, it's easy to watch him watch you. Your face, lined with unhappiness, and his, so, so devoted it makes you feel poorly. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, moving in closer still. His bicep curls behind your back, his wrist hanging over your shoulder. He noses under your ear gently, propping a quick kiss there like he's going to pick it up again. "You look kind of sad." 

He says it like it's a tragedy in the making. 

Your attempt of a smile melds into a grimace as you direct your gaze down to the empty sink, porcelain shining with water. A tiny dollop of toothpaste clings to the drain. You turn on the hot tap. 

Eddie turns it off. "Hey," he murmurs, dragging it out, "tell me." 

"I think I'm having one of those days where I feel really ugly," you confess. 

"You're just as pretty as you were yesterday. As you are everyday." His face inches closer to yours. He speaks with all the intonation of someone telling a secret, "I'd say you were prettier, actually." 

"I don't know. I look weird, sometimes. I think I look one way and then I see myself in the mirror and I look different." 

Eddie's hand pets your upper arm, half a hug. "Can I give you a kiss?" he asks. 

You sigh and turn toward him, tipping your head back. 

He laughs. "Don't seem so reluctant!" he chides, bringing a hand to your cheek. With a gentleness that evidences how deeply he loves you, he strokes your cheek. Like you're fragile as a strand of silk, or precious as carved alabaster. 

"You don't think I'm ugly?" you ask. Perhaps desperately. 

Eddie meets your eyes. When he closes his, you close yours. "No," he says, pressing a mindless kiss to your lips, the kind he gives when you're both nearly sleeping, or barely awake. It livens, but before it can deepen, he pulls away to continue, "You're not ugly. I think you're the," —pause for a kiss, like he just can't wait— "prettiest girl in the world." 

The hand that isn't holding your face meanders across your lower back, fingertips teasing the hem of your t-shirt. He can't not do what he wants to do once he's thought about it, pushing his hand under your shirt to explore your naked back. He pulls you in close, your hips against the sink, his socked foot sliding between yours.

He kisses you slowly, time stretching and condensing at once. It could be five seconds, or it could be thirty. A kiss to say everything you're worried about is simply worry —it's as good an answer as you could want. 

Until he breaks away, and he says, "You're fucking stellar, I need you to know that. Head to toe. Can't believe you'd think any different, but what do I know about it? I only spend the large majority of my waking hours wishing I could climb into your skin." 

Your laugh catches in your throat. "You ruined it." 

"I look at you more than anything else," he says, amending his creepy finish. He turns your face gently, back and forth, his irises a melty shade of brown where they follow your growing smile. "So I'm the expert. You're beautiful, sweetheart. Don't think otherwise." 

"Or you'll crawl into my skin?" you tease, spirits lifted. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. "Ew, no. Why would you think that?" 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and laugh into his collar. He hugs you back enthusiastically. "Think there's enough room in there for me?" he whispers. "I wanna know what it's like to be that pretty." 

You shake your head. "No, sorry." 

"Bummer. Well, let me know if there's ever a vacancy." 

[asahiee]

𝗔𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗡 ⟡ satoru gojo

contains : fluff / angst / bittersweet moment author note : prob gunna hate me how i didn't rlly make it that fluff + not proof-read taglist : @vxmieen . @mel1mak . @crocodilethesir (srry if u didn't wanted to be tagged) FIRST PART - DEAD LOVEBIRDS

you were everyone's dream, a girl who could swirl hope towards any dim heart, a girl whose smile can light up anyones world. you were indeed the world's last shinning sun, and then there was satoru who'd orbited around you like a planet

satoru was a man who carried everyones worries, a man who had lost his way, a man who couldn't find any light anymore, a man whose world is corrupt and nothing can change him, a man who lost everything. he in the end had lost all hopes around the world.

how ever did a girl with bright hopes had fallen in love with a man who had died, metaphor and literally. in the end there was three memories you'd cherish deeply in your heart.

under the stars

the sound of your heart beat thumping like drums, were ringing in your ears. as satoru covered your eyes with his palm, as you can make out little snickers from him. "y'know i love you soooooo much, right?" he whispers towards your ears, as he presses soft kisses towards your neck. this simple touch had made your cheeks flamming pink.

"Y-..yeah i know.." you quietly spoke, as you fingers interwined with themselves. you for once felt satoru smiling brightly. "so i decided to spoil you.." and then his hands left from your eyes, as your bright eyes stared the blank space as you tilted your head, a bit confused. but soon your confused look would turn into wonder.

staring down at satoru, who was on his knee smiling brightly with eyes of a child. "I can't anymore, i want to marry you and show you my love." he spoke as your eyes were shimmering with tears. "yes yes yes yes...oh my god.." and that was the start at you lunched your body onto him, hugging him tightly as you cried happily into his arm. oh the overwhelming warmth between your heart and feelings...

this was the start of every dream and heartbreak

and the stars knew that to well, as they kissed there blessings onto you

2. towards the moon

"I can't shoko! what if i fall on my wedding dr-..." your overwhelming thoughts were cut of by shoko shoving her palm towards your face. "first of all you wont just randomly gall off your wedding dress.." the brown hair girl said firmly, as she grabbed your arm leading you, towards the grand wooden doors.

"secondly focus on the idiot guy you love.." she whispered to your ear, with a warming smile as you returned the soft gaze. breathing in and out you had grabbed ahold of your feelings and swallowed it, as you opened the doors with a bright smile.

this was the start of every marriage and love, but who knew this was the start of a sad love story ... ?

had he truly loved you or did he just pushed you away...

3. moon cycles

after ten years of being with satoru, the love of your life was all for nothing.

waking up early in the morning to make breakfast, and then staying worried till the sun sets, then welcoming yourself from the cold wind of nothing. it was just a never ending cycle you haven't noticed, not yet. after seeing him with another girl everything went downhill...

did he know? did he abandoned you? did he even love you..

no, no, and no..

and like any other dam, it burst with water as you met the men you wasted your whole heart, on sliding a divorce paper towards your hands. his cold but alluring precense was just like ice. he was not the men you had loved ten years ago...

and like all tragedies one must leave to heal

the humid air bloomed through the tree's leaves, as a soft welcoming. as you sat staring outside the window, eyes watching a young awaited love. your warm hands clasped the untouched and cold cup of coffee, taking a sip as you hummed happily.

seeing the sight of satoru with his new lover had made you smile for some reason.

maybe it was the warm beat of love you still felt?

or maybe it was that you truly missed him?

no, it was the joy that filled every ounce of your body

knowing that the man you use to love, was happy with another one.

and just like that in the end, you weren't everyone dreams and thats fine. cause you can always look up in the stars, and remember the first feeling of love, once again.

[seafumes]

the pink bows you wore. . . (WIP)

a/n: this is a work in progress.. it's been a lil bit since i posted smt, and i can't really figure out an ending yet soooo lmk what u think.😭🙈

synopsis: after a fatal accident, the memories of your lover seemed to have faded.

cw: character-color-trope, angst/hurt w barely any comfort, fem reader, tighnari x readerrr, i've never written for him before so bare with me please🙏🏾

a/n pt2: TY TO MY MUTUALS WHO HELPED ME CHOOSE!! @mwahkazu & @sl-vega 🫶🏾

TIGHNARI had never been so distraught as he sat at your hospital-bed side. His ears were dropped, his eyes a little puffy and red, it seemed like he'd just finished crying for the nth time this week.

as you laid there, all he was left with was his thoughts, and the occasional beep of the heart monitor; which seemed to ease his worries a tiny bit. at least he knows you're alive.

if someone were to ask him what happened, all he could say was "an accident."

"an accident?" he'd say to no one in particular when the interaction was done, and he was once again alone.

more like tragedy, he thought, face palming himself. even though it had been a week, he could remember the incident like it was yesterday.

"'nari!!" you exclaimed, waving at him from the top of the akademiya stairs. you were visiting because of an event for former students, and you decided to bring him as you plus one.

he greeted you with his usual smile, waving right back at you.

as you ran down the stairs to greet him officially, all you could hear was a "watch out!" before you were falling.

falling. it was all you could register before the world went black.

he couldn't stop thinking about it. you falling, and him not being able to run fast enough to catch you.

the wounds on your head were fatal, was one of the only things he remembered from the doctor's report about your condition.

he couldn't help but blame himself for them, even though it was his fault.

if i was faster, maybe i could've caught her, he thinks, feeling like he was going to cry again.

he then sighed, shaking his head. he knows you wouldn't want him thinking like that but he can't help it.

you looked so pretty up there with your sun-dress and pink bows tangled in your hair and around your outfit.

your smile was bright like the sun, you looked so happy till it happened.

the bows nestled ever-so-gently in his hand were the only things that gave him an ounce of hope.

hope that you'd wake up, and that you'd forget this thing even happened.

and he'd happily place them back in your hair.

but it seems that fate had other plans for him.

you groaned, opening your eyes, and slowly blinking to adjust to the dim hospital light.

you felt a slight pain in your head as you lifted your head up to see something—or rather someone on your bed.

who is this?, you thought, and decided to speak up. you coughed to get his attention.

"um, who are you?" your voice was hoarse, and some parts of the sentence came out a bit higher in tone than you liked it.

when the stranger looked up at you, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

to your dismay, he didn't answer you question, and immediately rushed out the room.

you sat there and blinked, until the door opened again, and a person who you presumed was a doctor, and the stranger walked in again.

in the course of a few minutes you were bombarded with questions from the doctor, which you tried to answer to the best of your ability.

the stranger seemed to know most of the answers better than you. like "what's your name," birthday, etc.

it didn't bother you that much though, since your were supposedly waking up from a coma, and you didn't really feel like going the extra mile to recall details.

when the doctor finally finished their verbal analysis, they left the two of you alone.

"[name]! i can't believe you're-!" you cut him off as he engulfed you into a hug.

"uh," you started, stiffening at the sudden contact.

"i don't think you heard me but, who are you?" you finally asked, pulling away from the hug.

"what.." his voice barely above a whisper.

remember this is a WIP,, so abrupt ending for now🙈

[thescarletnargacuga]

Can i request that Gangle teasing Jax and begin playful to him? Like... After her comedy mask is broked, she founded a mask that looks different.. after she weared that she becomed flirty and teasing, shocked everyone

ROMANCE

A RIBBUN ONESHOT

WARNING: suggestive flirting

~~~

Gangle moped as she carried the remnants of her yet again broken comedy mask to her room. It would be together by tomorrow but she was tired of the constant tears of her tragic mask. She put the pieces of her comedy mask away in a draw out of sight and searched her room for anything useful. "Maybe I can make my own mask?"

In her search, she found a small box in the back of her closet. She'd never really gone through it, she didn't need clothes. It was just there for aesthetics. The box was plain, no markings of any kind to indicate what was inside. Curiosity compelled her to open it.

Inside was another perfect porcelain mask, but it was neither comedy nor tragedy. The mask had a more flirtatious facade with blush marks on the cheeks. Gangle picked it up and a note fell from the underside of the mask.

"For special occasions. Enjoy! -Caine"

"...special occasions?" Gangle looked the mask over one last time before putting it on. Immediately, she felt more confident. She stood tall, shoulders squared, hips swayed. Her body moved to the rhythm of her new persona. "Much better." She smirked and left her room.

Gangle sashayed out into the main circus where a few of the others were hanging out. Pomni noticed her first but backed out of her way without saying anything. Ragatha turned to see what Pni was nervous about and spotted Gangle. "Oh hey! Are you feeling better?"

"Never better." Gangle kept walking, going straight for Jax.

Jax and Zooble were giving each other the stink eye, about to start another round of arguments, but both looked at Gangle in stunned silence. Zooble crossed their arms and gave Gangle a look of confusion. "What mask are you wearing? Never seen that one before."

"Oh, this old thing?" Gangle giggled. "I've been saving it. Particularly, to thank Jax."

"You wanna what, now?" Jax's mind worked overtime to find quips for the unexpected behavior, but the way she was looking at him had a grip on his tongue.

"You heard me, handsome." Gangle sidled right up to Jax, being almost eye level with him as she stood her full height. "You did me a favor, and I intend to turn in kind." She placed a hand on Jax's chest.

"Whoa whoa whoa, Hold on-" Jax held Gangle away at arms length.

"HA! You've got him blushing!" Zooble cracked up. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little flirting?"

Pomni and Ragatha sniggered to themselves.

The once light blush that dusted Jax's cheeks flared out of embarrassment. "I can handle plenty! She's just being a pain in my [%$!#]!"

"Oh," Gangle chuckled "Sorry for being too rough last night."

The girls erupted with laughter. Zooble almost had to take a knee.

Jax choked on his words. The comeback he was looking for eluded him.

Gangle draped her arms over Jax's shoulders, hanging on him loosely. "Come back with me to my room. I'll let you do some...flossing."

Ragatha covered Pomni's eyes with her hat. "GANGLE!? My goodness!"

Pomni fought to see. "Ragatha, come on! I'm not innocent!"

Zooble couldn't breathe. They were laughing too hard.

Gangle paid the others no mind. She was entirely focused on Jax, who was completely speechless. She played with one of his ears, dragging her ribbon down it's length. "Such a gorgeous face. I could stare at it for hours."

Jax finally reacted. He grabbed Gangle's waist and held her to him. "About time someone recognized how awesome I am. You know I won't let you take any of this back, right?"

Gangle hucked on her legs onto his hip, which he caught. "Wouldn't dream of it. Now, do you want to get tangled or not?"

"[%$!#] yeah." Jax lifted her by her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to his room.

Zooble finally pulled themselves together with steadying breaths. "Oh my god, what was that about?"

"No idea, but I think Jax and Gangle are a thing now?" Pomni said, swatting Ragatha's hands away.

[saelxstia]

to tread the path angels fear (p1)

-

characters: sunday x reader

genre: slight angst to fluff

warnings: im not good with sticking to the storyline

other: you guys speak french at some point but dw theres a translation (i just used google translate but shhh), p2 is posted

it came as a surprise to be invited to the charmony festival, considering *he* was the one who organised it. out of all people.

he and you were not on the best of terms. you used to be innocent lovers who believed their days of serene affection would be endless, back in the distant past, when you were just younglings enjoying the springtime of your youth. and of course, that would never come to pass. in fact, you loathed the idea of getting anywhere close to him, as your breakup was everything but cordial.

what made him invite you, then? that part was a mystery. but, even then, you decided to accept the invitation because he was merely the family's spokesman. it wasn't as though it was a private festivity just for you. and since penacony was both your and his homeland, you had every right to take part in the celebrations and pay a visit to your mother planet.

you were lost in thought as you bathed in the familiar water of your room at the reverie, memories of the past clouding your mind. you shook your head and closed your eyes, trying to push sunday’s memories from your consciousness. you wanted nothing more than to stop thinking about him right now, but the weight of his invitation was wearing you down.

just as you were about to fall into a troubled, but nonetheless comfortable slumber, a hand had forcefully pulled you from the water, and hard. the firm grip on your arm was painful. you opened your eyes wide in horror, trying to see just who had the nerve to storm into your private hotel room and jerk you out of your reverie. you’re greeted with the sight of the man you’re conflicted with the most, and you think to yourself; why did it have to be him, of all people?

“(name), cease your haste. do not enter the dreamscape," sunday warned, his tone carrying the same familiar dullness, but a hint of franticness lied under his infuriatingly composed exterior. despite your rage, you felt compelled to listen, if only for the fact this had been the most panic you'd ever seen him in, even if it was barely discernible. you hated to admit, but you knew him well enough to pick up on the smaller details. "i have lost my dear robin to this nightmare. i do not wish for you to be another loss."

“… what?” you couldn’t believe your ears. you have just returned home and you already ask yourself thousands of questions. first of all, what happened to robin? did she get hurt? is she.. gone? why can't I enter the dreamscape? and...why does he care all of a sudden? you pull yourself out of your thoughts, and focus on the bigger picture. in other words, find out what happened to your best friend. “robin.. what happened to her? what do you mean?”

he sighs, his expression remaining as stoic as ever, although now there was pity in his eyes for you.

"robin passed away as she was exploring the dreamscape last week," sunday says. "she went missing and then turned up dead. they ruled it as an accident, but i saw her body." his tone was steady, but you could see the edges of his lips twitch downward slightly. “i suspect the dreamscape has some sort of malicious entity lurking within it. i will not risk you falling prey to it as well."

your face falls. *robin is dead?* no, you won’t accept this. she was your best friend, the one who supported you and your decision to leave penacony after your predicament with sunday. your heart drops, and you feel devastated. you look up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. he understands what you’re feeling though, and he nods slowly, a somber expression settled over his face. despite the tragedy that had befallen another in the family, he was not letting his emotions overcome him. he was simply stating the facts as is.

"i will not allow the same to happen to you," he declares. "i will not lose another person dear to me." he pauses, his gaze settling on you now. there was such raw emotion in his voice that you could not recall hearing from him before — it was almost as if his facade was crumbling.

you pause. your heart and mind are riddled in confusion as you listen to his last sentence, taking time to reflect on the last three words. “… dear to you?” you ask, tone laced in equal parts uncertainty and hope, and though you want to believe otherwise, you can’t deny that you want those words to be true.

and for the briefest of moments, sunday's gaze falters as if he was contemplating something — whether or not to say something to you, to divulge a secret that he had never shared before. "... yes." he replies finally, with a solemnity you almost can't believe to be coming from his mouth.

"you are dear to me."

you wonder if your ears are deceiving you. you almost can’t believe the sheer sincerity in his words, the slight crumbling of the facade he always has up, and the declaration of how you are, in his eyes. “… really?” you whisper out. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you take a moment to breathe. you look at the floor and squirm under his gaze, unable to speak anything more.

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face unreadable — only pity and sadness can be discerned upon his features. “look at me," he demands. he's not used to asking, used to being ignored, but you had never seen sunday like this — vulnerable, anxious— a different person entirely. so you obey his order, raising your head and staring back at him. a beat of silence passes between the two of you, both of your expressions devoid of outward emotion.

sunday's lips twitch slightly. they twitch again. *he seems to be thinking something over,* you think. finally, he speaks, staring deeply into your eyes as if trying to read your soul, "... i have something to share with you."

you blink, a little caught off guard, but nonetheless opt to hear him out. “what is it?” you ask, looking at everything except him. sundays voice trembles slightly as he speaks. "when you... left. i..." he takes a deep breath before he continues, struggling to find his words, "i was a fool to take it as easily as i did. your departure — from penacony, from..." he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to find the right words, "i was distraught," he suddenly blurts out, his hands tightly clenched together. his hands are shaking now. "... when you left, i was... *lost.*"

you stare at him, shocked, but your shock quickly turns into skepticism at his sudden confession. “why are you telling me this?” you question. he meets your gaze, his stare unwavering, his expression unchanging, and for the first time, you see his facade fall away entirely. for the first time — the real sunday finally shows his face to you.

"... because its the only way i know how," he says simply, not realizing the deepness of his words. "its the only way i know to tell you that..." he swallows. "that i need you."

after what feels like forever, you bring a hand up to hover hesitantly over his cheek, “i’ve never seen you this.. sincere. jespere que vous savez a quel point cela compte pour moi.” (translation: i hope you know how much this means to me.)

his breath catches in his throat as your gentle palm caresses his cheek. it's a tender and almost loving gesture — which he hadn't received from you in years. his eyes widen slightly in surprise, a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. he looks... touched by this gesture. touched and vulnerable. something you rarely, if ever, see on his face. the old sunday was usually all business and stoicism and politeness. this new sunday... he seems — different. *softer.*

but youre still suspicious. your expression changes, and you pull your hand back, “ but i still feel like i don’t know *you* anymore. are you really serious, or are you toying with me? please be honest, je ne veux plus avoir le coeur brise.” (translation: i don't want to be heartbroken again.)

the question makes him tremble for the briefest moment, but he quickly regains his composure. he takes your hand in his own gently, his fingers interlacing with yours. "you have my word — i am being entirely sincere." his tone is firm and steadfast, no longer carrying the faint trace of uncertainty it had before. "i was foolish to let you walk out of my life so easily, i... i regret it deeply. i..." his fingers tighten around yours. "i would be devastated if anything happened to you. please... dont go to the dreamscape."

his words touch your heart, and though the you from a few hours ago would detest the you of now, your gaze softens, feeling like the love in your heart that has been kept under wraps will start overflowing again. “daccord. je te ferai confiance et je taimerai a nouveau. mais sil vous plait, ne faites pas la meme erreur que vous avez faite il y a toutes ces annees. and don’t worry, i won’t enter the dreamscape anymore.” (translation: all right. i will trust you and love you again. but please don't make the same mistake you made all those years ago.) you declare, and move ever so slightly closer to him.

he feels the heat of your breath as you get closer to him — he had forgotten how close the two of you would be when you were young, lovers, partners in life. the familiarity of your closeness to him takes him back to those days. he takes your other hand in his, tightening his grip around it, almost as if it was a lifeline, a guide, to keep your proximity to him. "i know better now," he replies, his eyes never faltering from yours. "back then, i did not know the depths of my love for you until you left."

you forget everything that made you loathe seeing him again, all your rage, all your hatred. as your heart overflows with genuine joy, you are reminded of just how much you used to love each other back then, and you will do anything to get it back in your grasp. you gently squeeze his hand, and lean in close enough that the tips of your noses are barely brushing against each other, “… may i?”

his heart skips a beat. for a quick moment, he doesn't respond — only stares into your eyes, watching you closely. when your noses are only a millimeter apart from one another, when you can smell the subtle scent of his cologne, when the tension and the passion that had built up between the two of you for so long burst at last, he finally gives his answer: *"oui."*

you smile, the joy and love in your heart pouring out of you and into your next course of action as you put a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, pulling him closer and kissing him softly. sundays heart thumps as you pull him closer to you, his lips locking with yours, the passion, the desire, the years of longing for this moment finally spilling over. he responds with the same ferocity you do, his hands gripping your sides as he pulls you as close to him as he possibly can. the kiss lasts long, almost like a lifetime, and when you finally pull away and breathe, the two of you are panting, trying to slow down the beating of your hearts.

you smile so softly at him, and you feel so at home. “jai attendu ca toute ma vie. je je taime, sunday.”

(translation: i’ve been waiting for this all my life. i love you, sunday.)

sunday, for the first time in a long while, is speechless, the events of the past hour still lingering in his mind. you had shared a kiss — it was as though all that time and distance had never existed, as though the two of you were those two young, naive lovers still exploring the wonders of life. his voice cracks slightly as he replies. "je.. je taime aussi." (translation: i.. i love you too.) you move to embrace him in a warm hug, stroking his head and sighing in satisfaction.

he meets your embrace, wrapping his arms around you firmly, the way he had always done back when you were younger. despite your years spent apart, it feels completely natural to the both of you. as if you were still those same loving partners you used to be. "i will never, ever make the same mistake again," sundays murmurs as he clutches you tightly, a smile slowly forming on his lips. for the first time, he truly lets himself believe — this time, you are here to stay.

"never again," he says with an affirmative nod. "i realize now, that our time together... is fragile."

p2 is posted yay!!

this is the first time ive written something like this so maybe hes ooc and it's kinda bad but whatever. i love u sunday my wife ❤️❤️❤️‼️‼️

[vole-mon-amour]

1x09, part 3.

I'm so sad for him. He would literally forgive her ANYTHING.

He's TERRIFIED at the idea of losing her. And he's so right, Vi can't bring back Powder. It was so obvious when Jinx lit a fire & Vi got a taste of what Jinx is like these days. Vi wouldn't be able to control her, nor would she be able to love her when she's like this. The problem is, it IS her nowadays. There is no Powder anymore. It's such a fucking tragedy that Silco dies.

Honestly, say it, Silco. V is into Caitlyn now way more than she is into Jinx. Actually, she's not into Jinx at all. Again, there is NO Powder. Every time Vi calls her that, I cringe. I can't stand that name, it's simply not her. Just like Silco says, "that girl does not exist anymore".

And it's only them, you see? And she's his daughter, you see? ;______; The way he loves her, help. ;___; The look he gives her. It doesn't fucking matter she kidnapped him and tied him up and gagged him, he doesn't fucking care, he only wants her and he wants her to stay with him. ;_____; All the walls around him fall apart for her sake. He's the most vulnerable with her.

"I'll never forsake you." The voice acting. The animation. I feel unwell.

Gods, he's so scared she will leave him. So confused about her dropping her gun.

He's like a caged animal when he grabs Jinx's gun. Vi only made it worse for Jinx. But yeah, just like Jinx said, it's up to Vi if she gets Jinx or Powder, and Vi's shouting and SIlco's death sealed the deal.

She really caresses behind his ear as he's bleeding out. Oh, the fucking tragedy. ;___;

"Don't cry. You're perfect." FUCK OFFFFF. The pain is real and I am feeling it. Like, no stills or gifs can truly makes you feel the same if you don't remember the tone of his voice, the feelings in his voice.

"I hope you know we had everything, When you broke me and left these pieces."

Honestly, the difference between Jinx getting Vander killed and Jinx getting Silco killed is that Vi means it and she leaves her. Yes, they were kids, full stop. She gave into those emotions, though. For the moment, she hated Jinx & she meant it. She can never love Jinx.

Jinx kills Silco? He tells her not to cry. He tells her JINX is perfect. She kills him and yet, she's his entire word. "I'll never forsake you. <...> I never would have given you to them. Not for anything." and he MEANS it. As he bleeds out while she holds his face, he tells her not to cry and that she's PERFECT.

"'Cause I, I was meant to be yours."

Yeah, they can all burn, indeed.

V is so confused because how can her sister feel all those feelings for Silco? How can she cry for him? He's a monster, he deserved to die, didn't he? Yeah, she just doesn't understand. Fuck. (breaks down) I love Silco so much.

"Even though I'm different." That's exactly the problem. Vi can't love her as she is now. Silco could. He did.

I'm going to miss him so much.

I hope she doesn't die in s2 (or turns into something that's completely unrecognizable). I really fucking hope so. ;____; And man, Silco is so beautiful. Was? Anyway.

She's alive! My girl is alive! Maybe she'll take over the undercity without Silco? "What we could've been." right when they focus on her and Silco's empty chair. Gods. I'm hurting. The song at the end is absolutely perfect and I can't stop crying.

Oh, Ekko found himself a friend. Oh, what could've been, indeed. This is such a great alliance because Ekko is somewhat a scientist himself and he's open-minded and he has nothing to gain, so he gladly shares about his experience with Heimerdinger.

The animation is incredible. And Vi still chooses Caitlyn over Jinx. Like I said she would. :(

Even Viktor looks hopeful. Season 2, "Devastating"? "No one is going to be happy after watching it"? Oh, they're going to break me.

[guccifrog]

bittersweet tragedy

chapter 1

(inspired by the movie a silent voice)

Matt sturniolo × f!reader

warnings: angst/swearing/bullying/deaf fem reader

do not copy/steal/translate my work!!

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"(bittersweet tragedy-melanie martinez)"

01:23 ━━━━●───── 03:43

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

₊˚

Back then, if we could have heard each others voices, everything would have been so much better.

But the wind didn't carry our words, and the snow didn't record our footsteps. All that was left were the memories of what could have been, frozen in time like the ice that covered everything else.

We continued our separate lives, never truly knowing what the other was thinking or feeling. Sometimes, in the silence of the night, I would wonder if she ever thought of me at all.

October/2019

The sky was covered in a heavy blanket of clouds, threatening to unleash its fury at any moment. The grasses seemed to have a party with the wind, dancing in their own rhythm, as screams and laughter echoed through the air. 

A group of middle schoolers was gathered around a small clearing, laughing and shouting as they played a game of tag.

The wind picked up, sending leaves and twigs flying through the air. A particularly strong gust caused a nearby tree to sway violently, its branches scratching against the sky, a 15-year-old girl sat down under the tree, watching the group play tag. She looked a bit bored as if she had seen all this before. 

she sighed, looking back to her lap her eyes scanning the pages of her book. The wind picked up even more, rustling the leaves around her and causing her hair to whip around her face. She pushed it back out of her eyes and went back to her book, lost in the words it contained.

Suddenly, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through the clearing, sending the book flying out of the girl's hands. Startled, she jumped to her feet, her heart racing as she watched the book tumble through the air. With a groan, she dashed after it, her legs carrying her quickly across the grass. 

As she neared the group of middle schoolers, she noticed a hand reaching out and grabbing the book just before it fell to the ground. A boy around her age stood there, a mischievous grin on his face. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he teased, holding the book above his head.

The girl's eyes widened as she realized who the boy was. He was in her class, but she didn't really know him. His name was Matt, and he was sort of popular in her school.

Matt continued to tease her, "Come on, you can have it back. I just wanted to see what you were reading that was so important." He smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling. She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to trust him or not.

She reached out, trying to grab the book from him. her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Matt just laughed, stepping back and holding the book further away from her. "you can't have everything your own way, you know," he teased, grinning.

The girl felt her heart race faster. She wasn't sure if she should try to take the book from him or just walk away. As she hesitated, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder.

The wind howled even louder, sending leaves and twigs swirling through the air. The group of middle schoolers playing tag nearby barely seemed to notice the storm brewing around them.

Matt glanced at the dark clouds gathering above, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't want to get caught in the rain, but he wasn't about to let her have the book just yet. "Looks like the weather's turning," he said, his voice barely above the roar of the wind. "Maybe I should head back."

She narrowed her eyes at him, she just wanted her book back. Matt suddenly turned to look at her frowning his eyebrow" What's that" he asked making her look at him in confusion.

He quickly reached his free hand to her ear, pulling out a device from it. "Oh," he muttered amused as he studied the hearing aids in his hands.

The boy looked up at her smirking" Want these back ?" He asked teasingly " Oh wait forgot you can't hear my bad" he added before extending his arm to hand her the hearing aids, the girl smiled softly but as soon as she reached out her hand to grab the aids she let out a gasp and her smile dropped as the boy's hand opened and the hearing aids fell to the floor, without hesitation Matt stomped on the hearing aids with a grin on his face. "Now what are you going to do huh?" he asked with a smirk.

Panic rose within the girl as she watched the boy destroy the only thing that made her feel normal like all the other kids. She couldn't believe he would do something so cruel.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The wind howled even louder, making it difficult for her to think clearly.

She glanced around, hoping someone would step in and help her, but the group of middle schoolers playing nearby seemed oblivious to the situation.

Matt continued to taunt her, "What are you going to do now, huh? You can't even hear me anymore!" He let out a laugh before turning to leave, disappearing into the crowd of children. 

The girl felt helpless and alone, her heart breaking as she knelt down to inspect the remains of her hearing aids. 

She could hardly believe that someone could be so cruel.

How could I be so cruel? She was so pure, so innocent, and yet I was constantly ruining her, just because I couldn't figure out my own feelings.

Every time I tried to explain how much she meant to me, I ended up making things worse. It was like opening a wound and pouring salt into it. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't seem to stop.

taglist ☆@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss @graceciesiels22 @urmom2bitch @junnniiieee07

[moon-fics]

The Lime Light (prologue)

A/n: I had to reupload this bc I messed up some editing but now it's up for good!

Summary: After disappearing from the spotlight you finally return. However, a rough night and a scandalous paparazzi photo causes you to forge a new PR relationship with the beloved actor, Peter Parker.

Rating: PG 13

The light is too bright in the questionably damp room as your agent's, Elizabeth Allen, voice blurs into the background. Stress drones out all noise from the outside world, filling your ears and mind with tv static. You rub your forehead to ease the unsteady feeling inside, your heart beating louder than a drum. 

"So, you'll do it right?" Liz asks, her voice full of hope. You know that you've been letting her down recently, avoiding roles that would boost your audience. "You can't keep turning down roles or they'll stop requesting you," She warns, wagging a finger at you.

If she was anyone else you'd snap at her, telling her you just aren't feeling the role. However, you both know you've been using that excuse for months and she's too sweet of a woman to yell at. 

It's a good plot, one that would win awards if done right. A love story with tragedy that isn't expected until the last act. A girl in love with a man with a double life, but she's in love with his secret identity and hates the man behind the mask. It's cliche beyond belief, but almost everything has already been done in Hollywood. 

"Have they gotten anyone relevant in the cast?" You ask with a heavy sigh, sitting up straight in the chair. You're now alert and invested in the conversation, at least as much as you can be. "I mean, I'd rather not work with a cast full of new faces," It's a harsh thing to say, especially since you started out in the same spot as them.

Liz nods, a burst of energy coming through her, “So you’re actually interested?” She squeaks as you nod in hopes it’ll satisfy her. It's the first time in a while you've shown interest in any gig she's gotten you, which to her, is a huge deal. She quickly shuffles through a file which you can see contains an out of order script. 

"Here we go," She hums, placing a paper with a list of names on it. You hesitantly reach for it, sliding it off her wooden desk. It's covered in scratches from her pen pressing too hard on paper, a few coffee stains as well. You smooth out the paper, starting on the first name. 

Felicia Hardy is the first name you recognize and you're surprised she isn't the lead. Instead she's stuck as the supporting actress who eventually dies off to progress the plot. From what you've heard about her, she'll throw a stink about it but eventually agree to her character's fate.

Your eyes scan over names of actors you've neither met nor heard of. You're relieved when you finally land on Harry Osborn but it's gone when you see a question mark drawn next to his name. That could mean many things but the two most likely is that he either hasn't decided or the casting director is still looking.

"Is Harry still dropping roles after what happened?" You ask, glancing up from the paper. You should know the answer, you should be asking Harry himself. But after witnessing something as gruesome as his incident, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him once he was discharged. Liz is no longer sitting in front of you, instead she's organizing her desk. She's nervous, why wouldn't she be? 

"From what I've heard from his agent," You forget that she has connections, that she's no longer a young woman struggling to keep actors. Just like how you're no longer a child sitting in a chair you can't fit in; your mother making sure you can't speak for yourself. Her words still echo in your mind telling you to cry on que and to never get close to your co-stars. "He's debating giving up acting entirely." She shrugs, tightening her bun. 

The news doesn't surprise you in the slightest, what happened was traumatizing. Even though you had only watched what happened you still have flashes of broken bone and blood on an expensive set. Even now you cringe at the thought. 

"I know you get along with Harry and I really think he might accept the role!" She cheers up, placing her hand on her desk. You wait for an explanation, already knowing she'll tell you without a prompt. "His best friend, Peter Parker, is the lead role." She squeals. 

Liz is a huge fan of Peter Parker and often laments about how she regrets not signing him to her company,at the time she thought he was a one shot wonder. He's a brilliant actor who has a great streak in the industry and a huge following of fan girls. Somehow every movie he's been in has been a hit, something an actor can only dream of. 

As much as you want to continue to pretend like you aren't known by millions, you have to suck it up. You can already feel the all nighters and coffee on your breath. As the buzzing in your mind slowly begins you hold out your hand.

"Hand me the script."

-  -  -

You stare at the boy in front of you, at least a year older maybe two if you’re generous. You’re examining him from afar, imagining how he looks at every angle just so you can get a feel for him. You’ve never worked with a boy around your age, not in such a serious role like this.

His hair is well kept and he never leaves his father’s side. A part of you knows he only got this role because his father is directing the movie, I mean, Norman Osborn always gets what he wants. So why wouldn’t he want his son to become just as famous as him?

You’re so transfixed on taking note of his every feature you hardly notice your mother approaching you. Your first big role and she’s not letting you out of her sight, she calls it a precaution, but you know she just wants to keep her strings attached to you. Even at the ripe age of thirteen you understand her love is purely based on your achievements. 

Eventually, you’re thrusted onto set to practice your lines with the boy… and holy shit you’re nervous. You’re too new to acting to have any fame get into your head but you have no clue how this boy will act and honestly, you’re terrified he’ll get you recasted.

As you approach the set decorated to be a middle class kitchen your hands are sweating. You’re lucky Mr. Osborn has allowed you to hold onto your script or you might forget every line even after the hours of late night practices. Before you know it you’re standing a few feet away from the red, no brown, wait maybe both haired boy. 

“I’m Harry,” The boy speaks first, holding out a hand. He isn’t even holding a script, he’s confident he knows his lines which only makes you feel worse. You hesitate to shake his hand, worried he might crush your hand or secretly tell you how out of place you are. “I heard this is your first time in a position like this!” He continues, a genuine and bright smile spreads across his lips.

Finally, you use your voice and take his hand, “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” You’re taken aback by how soft his skin is and how he doesn’t insult you for being nervous. Something about him is warm, he’s like a fall candle that you light at night when you can’t focus. 

“You shouldn’t be nervous just because my dad is the director. He can’t replace you,” He assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You don’t understand what he means, actors get replaced all the time for the simplest reasons. “I specifically chose you to work with and my father won’t risk my career over something as small as forgetting lines!” He gestures to your script, his head tilting to the side. A strand of hair falls out of place and suddenly you’re reminded that he’s not some big shot, he’s a kid same as you.

With a new determination in your chest you give him a solid nod. You feel special, you feel wanted for the first time in a while. Harry chose you to work with out of who knows how many other girls. He must see something in you, something he wants to work with. With a yell of ‘action’ and a snapping sound, the flame between friends is ignited.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

There's Beauty in Tragedy: Part Three

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: JJ feels insecure with the amount of money she has compared to you and hates she can't give you what you can give her. So, she decides to show you a bit of her world by taking you on a date.

Part One Part Two

Square Filled: "your laugh is adorable" for @goodthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

JJ walks into work on Monday morning with a slight smile on her face. She had just spent the weekend with you in Milan. You whisked her away for a romantic but expensive weekend in one of the places she’s always wanted to visit. You spoiled her with whatever she wanted, even showered her with gifts she couldn’t possibly accept under normal circumstances. You have all this money you want to spend on someone, and now you do.

She just feels so bad because she doesn’t make nearly as much as you do, so she can’t give you the same treatment. She’s brought up the money concerns even though you’ve dismissed them. You truly don’t care if she has money to spend on you or not. You do, and you love spending money on those you love.

It’s just hard on her because you’re giving her so much luxury and she can’t do the same for you.

Emily and Penelope are in the break room talking about their weekends when they notice JJ walk past them. Yes, she has a smile on her face but it’s not reaching her ears. They know she spent the weekend with you, so they’re not sure why she doesn’t look truly happy. Without a word, both of them follow her to her office.

“Hey, are you okay?” Emily asks.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“Babe, we can sense something isn’t right. Did something happen between you and Y/N?”

“No, the weekend was perfect, actually,” JJ sighs and sits down.

“Then, what’s bothering you?”

“We all know how much money she has. She’s given me so much, and she spoils me even if I tell her not to spend money on me. I mean, she has it. She might as well spend it on everything she can. I don’t make as much money as her, and I don’t want it coming across as me taking advantage of her.”

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” JJ blushes. “It could be if given some more time. We’ve only been seeing each other for a few months.”

“If Y/N likes you for you, then money shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Yeah,” JJ nods.

“She’s been taking you on all these expensive dates, right?” Penelope asks. “Why don’t you take her on a date? Maybe it’s more mellow and more your style. Show her that you two can still have fun without all that luxury.”

“The Redskins are playing in the Superbowl. I’ve always wanted to go to the game. Maybe I can bring her.”

“Yeah! Like I said, if she likes you for you, she’ll love going to the game. We gotta go but let us know how it goes.”

Once Emily and Penelope are gone, JJ takes out her phone to call you. She has a lot of work to do today but will do it after she’s talked to you.

“Hey, I was just thinking of you,” you answer with a grin. “We spent a whole weekend together and I already miss you.”

“Yeah, I kind of wish we were back on the beach.”

“We could think weekend if you want. I hear Bora Bora has beaches to die for at this time of year.”

“Maybe we can do that, sure. I called because I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date this weekend with me. The Superbowl is this weekend, and I’ve always wanted to go. I think it could be fun.”

JJ bites her lower lip nervously as she waits for your answer.

“I think that sounds amazing. What time?”

“Two-thirty on Friday. I can pick you up this time.”

“I look forward to it. I have to go now. Have fun at work.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” JJ smiles and hangs up.

If you’re going to go to a football game, then you need to dress the part. All you’ve ever worn are fancy and elegant clothes because you’re expected to dress a certain way. Being a CEO comes with downfalls, so you have to go to the store to buy more casual clothing for the football game. You don’t think you can get away with wearing heels, a fancy dress, and a designer-brand bag at a football game.

Once you got a whole wardrobe full of a new style of clothing, you got dressed in jeans, converse sneakers, and a red and gold shirt to represent the Redskins’ colors. You’ve been looking forward to this date all week because you want to get to know JJ in an environment that’s more her style. Sure, you can take her all around the world and shower her with gifts and luxury, but she won’t fully be herself unless she is in her world.

Two hours before the game starts, JJ shows up at your house to pick you up. Where you have town cars and expensive cars, she has her SUV which is a bit older than the newer models that are on the lot. You get into the car and greet JJ with a loving kiss.

“Hi. I’ve been thinking of you all week. I’m really excited about this game.”

“Have you ever been to a football game?” she asks and starts to drive off.

“Never, but I’m glad my first is with you.”

You know nothing about sports. The only reason you’re going is for JJ because this is what makes her happy. You want nothing more than to see her happy, and you’ll do anything to keep that smile on her face. Once you get there, you quickly find your seats which are in the lower bowl of the stadium.

The frigid February weather bites at your skin but you welcome the cold. It gives you a chance to snuggle close to JJ.

“So, who’s playing?”

“Redksins vs Green Bay. I’ve been a major Redskins fan since I was little. My dad and I would try to make it every game they did.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“Yeah, it was. I haven’t been to a game in a long time, so I’m really happy we’re doing this together.”

You reach over and grab her hand, intertwining your fingers together.

“Me too. Thank you for inviting me.”

“I know this isn’t luxury or expensive dinners, but--”

“No, this is amazing. I’m really glad I’m here with you. As long as you’re happy and we’re together, I don’t care what we do,” you kiss the back of her hand.

There’s that beautiful blush on JJ. The color compliments her skin. As soon as the game starts, something changes in JJ. She becomes more animated as she cheers for her team when they score and growls in frustration when they lose. You’re not sure when you cheer, so you follow her lead. One of the members of her team runs toward the endzone when someone from the opposite team tackles him to the ground.

Someone a few rows down from you stands up and yells at how stupid that play was, and JJ is caught off guard by the outburst. She covers her mouth and giggles but you hear it.

“Your laugh is adorable,” you smile at her.

“You are adorable,” she smiles. “I hope you’re not too bored.”

You let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her back. You rub her shoulder sensually and cock your head to the left.

“I am happy wherever you are. I’m starving.”

“They have food up top.”

“You mean I get to try stadium hot dogs and beer? Sign me up,” you chuckle. “Do you want one?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You two head to the concession stands where you get two beers and four hotdogs. This is so much different than the elegant restaurants you’re so used to going to, but you love the change of scenery. This is something you’ll have to get used to if you want to continue dating JJ. You can’t expect her to adapt to your lifestyle. That's not how a relationship works.

During a small break, you look over at JJ to see some mustard on the corner of her mouth. You reach other and wipe it with your thumb only to put that same thumb into your mouth to lick off the condiment.

“You got something there.”

“Is it all gone?” she asks after she swallows.

“No. Here, let me.” You grab her chin with your index finger and thumb and pull her into you. You kiss her without caring who is watching you two. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Whatever thoughts and worries she had about you and your money are gone because she really likes you and hopes this lasts for a long time.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she grins.

x

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[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (11/22)

Chapter summary: You and Yelena confront an important aspect in your relationship; Wanda catches someone's attention

Chapter word count: 6.2K | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Couldn't sleep and I wanted to get this chapter out of the way. P.S. Can you guess who happens to be Wanda's new customer?

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Twelve

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife

-

Eleven

Bending down a little, Wanda lets Sparky jump from her arms and onto the floor. Her apartment felt a little less like home without him, except for that night you brought her home safely and tucked her in bed. And despite her initial embarrassment, a smile forms on her lips as she recalls how you took care of her, ensuring she emptied her glass of water. 

Wanda could almost pretend it was just like old times, those moments when you would take care of her whenever she fell sick.  They were oddly some of her fondest memories even though they were accompanied by a feeling of helplessness.

Sparky sniffs at her leg, his wet nose touching her calf, making Wanda giggle. “You’re feeling better, bud?” she coos at him, scratching behind his ears and making him wag his tail even harder. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

As she reaches for a bag of dog food from the kitchen cabinet, a faint ringing startles her. She turns her attention to the source of the sound where she finds her laptop perched nearby. 

It’s an incoming video call request from none other than Pietro. Wanda's eyes instinctively flicker to the wall clock in her living room, realizing that she's five minutes late for their scheduled FaceTime session. Aside from the obvious reason that he’s scared she would descend into another episode of drug and alcohol abuse, they had made it a point to check in more frequently, not just relying on holiday reunions or convenience. If there was one good thing to come out of the tragedies of her life for the past year, it’s that it brought them closer together. This deeper connection with her brother also served as a motivating factor to be consistent with her sessions with Calliope.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda hurriedly walks over to her laptop and presses the accept button. It takes less than two seconds for the call to come through. 

Pietro's voice fills the room as he exclaims, "There's my less attractive twin," accompanied by a mischievous grin on the screen. Wanda can't help but scowl at his comment, but it quickly melts into a smile as she playfully sticks her tongue out and teases, "Aren't you a bit too old for frosted tips?" 

She notices how different he looks from the last time she saw him, appearing more adjusted to his new life in LA.

"Are you telling me I look old?" he retorts, feigning a pout while ruffling his spiky hair.

Wanda lets out a chuckle. "I literally just did. God, you’re stupid."

"Well, someone has to be the hot twin," Pietro smirks. "We can't both be hot and smart, sis."

"Sure, whatever," Wanda rolls her eyes and rests her chin on her palm. As much as she enjoys talking to him, she can't help but feel anxious about how he'll react when he finds out she has seen you again. Wanda had made a promise to Pietro to never see you again, which she reluctantly agreed to or else he never would have boarded his flight together with his wife.

“Alright, give me your status report for the week.”

Wanda gets right to it before hesitation can creep in. "I saw Y/N last night," she says, her voice strained as she swallows down the lump in her throat. "And again this morning."

Pietro's smile visibly falters, dissipating into a grimace as Wanda's words sink in. After a brief pause, he leans back in his chair, distancing himself slightly, and lets out a heavy sigh. "Why am I not surprised to hear that?" he mutters.

Wanda lowers her gaze, unable to meet his eyes as she recounts how Sparky ended up confined at an animal clinic and wanted to let you know.

"I know, Piet, I’m sorry" she says after she’s done speaking and Pietro hasn’t uttered a single word, his face not betraying any hint of emotion. "But if I were in her position, I’d want to know. Sparky is family.”

It’s another tension-filled silence before he speaks again.

"You really don't have to apologize to me for anything, you know?" he says in an unexpectedly gentle manner which helps Wanda relax a little. "It's not your responsibility to meet my expectations or avoid disappointing me–or anyone for that matter. But please, be completely honest with me. Was it just about Sparky?"

“It was,” Wanda says truthfully. “But I think it goes without saying that I missed her. Though if not for Sparky, we would be having an entirely different conversation right now.”

Pietro doesn't comment on that. He understands that your return to Wanda's life was going to happen sooner or later, whether it's because of the dog or some other reason. You and Wanda are like magnets, and he had witnessed it even back in college when Wanda first mentioned your name to him. There was an undeniable look in her eyes that told him he had already lost her sister to you.

“Have you told her what happened to you?”

Wanda shakes her head.

“How is she?” Pietro asks, wanting to know if you're treating Wanda fairly, hoping that you're at least maintaining a civil relationship with her.

“She actually saved me last night,” Wanda says. “I…I had a setback.”

Pietro raises an eyebrow, his expression turning skeptical. "Setback? As in…?”

Wanda takes a deep breath, nervously wringing her fingers in her lap, hidden from Pietro's view. "I had too much to drink. That's how Y/N found me." She then mentions meeting Yelena, how by the looks of it you were more than friends with her, and how that sort of flipped a switch inside of her before she could stop it.

"Does Dr. Williams know?" Pietro asks, recognizing his own biases in the situation. He had been practicing self-restraint ever since he started his own sessions with Calliope. Their weekly video calls have become less frequent, occurring only twice a month now, as his job and Shannon's pregnancy have demanded more of his time and attention. 

Wanda nods slightly to confirm, but she expresses her reluctance to share the specifics of that session with Pietro. Thankfully, he doesn’t press for more details.

“I still don’t think it’s safe for you to be around her. But I trust you,” Pietro mutters, leaning forward to imitate eye contact as if they were speaking face to face. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry to hear she’s moved on.”

A wistful smile graces Wanda's lips. She is grateful that the pixels that make up her face on the video call manage to hide the wetness that has gathered around her eyes. It's something she still needs to work through with Calliope. Deep down, she wants to genuinely be happy for you, without the lingering jealousy and possessiveness she still harbors. Finding happiness in your happiness, even if she isn't the cause of it, is the only way she can begin to perceive herself in a decent light. 

“How’s Shannon?” Wanda asks after she surmises that the topic of you has come to an end.

"What's up, my husband's less hot twin?" Shannon says, popping her head into view and giving Wanda a quick wave before disappearing from the screen as quickly as she appeared.

Wanda jumps back in her seat, looking horrified. “Has she been listening the whole time?” 

Pietro starts laughing. “Yep.”

“She’s evil!” Wanda exclaims as her own laughter starts to bubble up within her. 

“She says you look good,” he says.

“She did not just compliment me,” Wanda playfully gasps. 

“I know,” Pietro laughs harder, his shoulders shaking and his eyes crinkling at its corners. “Pregnancy has done wonders to her.”

“I’m happy for you guys. How far along is she again?”

“Seventeen weeks,” he answers with surprising accuracy. 

“Oh! So you’ll be able to tell sex of the baby?” 

“We’re going to find out in a week or two,” he says.

“I hope it’s a girl.” Wanda says, crossing her fingers.

As their laughter gradually subsides and their faces return to a state of tranquil contentment, Pietro asks, “Have you ever thought of having children? I mean, not necessarily with Y/N. Just in general.”

She has, multiple times. She tried to conceive with you for a while. But it’s too complicated to explain everything to him at the moment. Instead, she shifts her focus to the notion of wanting children and realizes that it's something she desired only after falling in love with you.

"I didn't start wanting until Y/N came along,” Wanda starts. “You knew how much I hated the idea of having kids—not because I didn't like them, but because I've always felt like I had nothing to offer. How do you give away something you never received, you know?"

Piet nods in understanding, his gaze filled with empathy as he recalls their tumultuous childhood. "Yeah, I—we didn't exactly have the best childhood," he admits, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "And I think it was harder on you because I had football and my scholarship to focus on. It was my escape, my distraction from the chaos. But for you, it was different."

"I always felt this void, this emptiness inside," Wanda confesses, her words quivering with raw emotion. "Growing up in a fractured family, it felt like there was something missing, something I couldn't quite put into words. And that made me doubt my ability to be a parent.

"But being with her," Wanda continues, her voice growing steadier at the thought of you, "It changed something within me. It's made me realize that I have the capacity to love, to nurture, and to provide the kind of stability I never had. It's scary, but it's also beautiful. And for a while, we did try," Wanda pauses, unable to hold back any longer. She hadn't even mentioned this to Calliope, so she is surprised to find it easy to reveal this to the brother she used to never talk to.

“But I couldn’t get pregnant. And she was having the best year in her career, so I couldn’t bring myself to ask her if she–if she wanted to carry,” Wanda continues, her gaze distant as she recalls the memories as vividly as if they occurred yesterday. She remembers how you provided unwavering support, particularly on the financial front when she was on a part-time payroll.

After two years of unsuccessful attempts, Wanda made the difficult decision to take a break from trying to conceive, a choice that you fully supported. But she was gutted–feeling like she somehow failed you as a wife.

“If it didn’t happen with her, maybe it’s not meant to be,” she concludes with a sad smile. “I doubt I’d be a good mother anyway.”

“Don’t say that. You’d be a great mom.” Pietro tells her but it does little to bring her comfort.

Wanda thinks that could only happen if she has you to learn from. It would have been the best time raising children with you; seeing them grow up and have families of their own while you both looked on from the porch of your retirement home, worn by the passage of time, yet filled with the joy of a life well-lived.

What-ifs. Missed opportunities. Wanda has discovered that when it comes to grief, it's often more painful to mourn the things that could never be.

***

The spot beside your bed is empty when you wake up the following morning after the gala. 

It’s not just empty; there’s no sign that a person has slept in it at all. Your mind drifts to the conversation you had with Kate, and then Yelena's bewildered and hurt expression as you departed the event without witnessing her moment on stage and receiving her well-deserved award. Regret courses through you as you realize the significance of that moment to Yelena and how you let her down by leaving without an explanation. In hindsight, the “biggest asshole of the night” award unanimously goes to you.

With a groan, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, hoping to find some messages from Yelena. Nothing. No attempted calls either. That’s… new. Talking things through is something you’ve always practiced with Wanda. You’re not used to this unerring silence after what could arguably be called a fight; your first one since picking up where you both left off more than twelve years ago. Putting on a pair of shorts, you walk out the bedroom and into the living room, hoping to find Yelena there. Everything looks exactly as you left it, meaning Yelena probably didn’t even go home after the gala.

Somehow, that renews your irritation, now mingled with a growing concern about your girlfriend’s whereabouts and why she couldn’t bother to let you know if she was at least somewhere safe.

Where are you? You send Yelena a text and then place your phone facedown on the kitchen counter. 

Grabbing a box of cereal from the shelf and milk from the fridge, you start preparing your breakfast. As you dig your spoon into the bowl of cereal, you find your eyes involuntarily glancing towards your phone, anticipating a notification to appear any moment.

In the next few minutes, however, it remains motionless and silent on the granite surface. Losing your patience, you pick it up and dial Yelena’s number. 

It rings and rings and rings, with each tone feeling more empty and distant than the last, until finally, a dead tone greets your efforts to reach her. Feeling a spike of pettiness, you decide to let go of your attempts to reach Yelena and instead, your fingers scroll through your contacts to a name that has been lingering in the back of your mind more times than you care to admit.

Before you’re aware of what you’re doing, you’ve sent your ex-wife a simple good morning text.

Wanda’s reply comes less than a minute later.

Good morning :) - W

You think of something to say, realizing that you hadn't planned that far ahead when you sent that text. You stand there in the middle of your kitchen, blinking at Wanda’s text for a long time when you suddenly remember what you really wanted to ask from her.

How’s Sparky doing?

He's doing alright. He's not particularly fond of the diet I've recently put him on, but the vet strongly advised me to stick to it and not feed him anything else. - W

You can envision Wanda struggling to feed Sparky, as it's no easy task due to his stubborn nature, much like his owner.

What diet is he on? I was going to bring him some toys and a new bed today, so maybe I can pick up groceries for him as well. 

Wanda’s reply to that never comes, and you continue to fume over Yelena’s lack of response.

***

It turns out, the demand of your work does have its advantages.

It means there’s little to no room for you to overthink what Yelena’s silence means. And if you can’t think about it, you can pretend that everything’s under control, like maybe she’s got caught in another assignment and hasn’t gotten any chance to text you back. However, as lunchtime approaches and you check your phone, you notice that she has seen your message but left it on read. 

Almost half a day and still no word from her. Instead of feeling agitated, you begin to worry. New York isn’t a particularly safe city. You’ve heard of people walking its streets in broad daylight and being attacked out of nowhere. You really shouldn’t have left her last night. If something had happened to her–

"Ms. Y/L/N?" Your secretary's voice comes through the door with a soft knock. “Ms. Natasha Romanov is here to see you.”

The mention of your best friend's name brightens your mood instantly. "Please, let her in. Thank you." With that, you close your laptop and make your way towards the couch, preparing for Natasha's arrival. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Perhaps Natasha can provide you with insights into the complex workings of her sister’s mind.

"Your secretary informed me that you rarely leave the building. So, I brought lunch," Natasha announces with a casual air as she enters your office. She's dressed in simple civilian clothing, a sign that she'll be off-duty for a while.

“Hey,” you stand up to greet her and you kiss each other on the cheek. “Thank you for this. I’m starving,” you say, taking the paper bags from her hands and spreading out its contents on the table in front of the couch. 

"Nice office," Natasha comments, her hands sliding into her pockets as she takes a tour of your workspace. “But it could be bigger.” she jokes. 

"That's what she said," you grin, the inside joke slipping out of your mouth without a second thought.

Natasha snorts, finding it amusing that you've regained some of your signature humor since she last saw you. She had been away for months on a mission that was initially intended to be just a few weeks long, and the transformation in you during that time has been surprisingly profound. Initially, she worried if you were ready to enter a relationship with her sister, having witnessed the impact of your divorce on your emotional stability. But seeing how genuinely happy Yelena is with you, she wonders if she had been mistaken in thinking that your reconnection was ill-timed.

She joins you on the couch, settling down beside you as you take a bite of your shawarma. The comfortable silence between you speaks volumes of the strong bond you share, but then the thought of not hearing from Yelena since you left the gala last night comes to mind.

"Have you heard from Yelena this morning?" you ask, a tinge of worry seeping into your voice as your appetite wanes.

"Yeah, she actually messaged me earlier," Natasha replies, her voice slightly muffled as she chews her food. "She needed some information for the column she's working on. Why do you ask?"

You sigh at the confirmation that she’s blatantly ignoring you. At the same time, you’re relieved to know that she’s alright.

"She didn't come home last night. She wouldn't answer my texts or take my calls either," you explain, unable to hide the amount of frustration in your voice.

"Oh. Trouble in paradise?"

"Something like that," you reply, not wanting to delve into the details just yet.

Natasha licks the sauce from her lips. "Mind if I ask what happened?"

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, "I'm not sure I feel comfortable talking about my relationship problems to my girlfriend's sister."

Natasha’s smile is toothy yet assuring. "I understand, but sometimes an outsider's perspective can be helpful. Plus, I know Yelena better than anyone. I might be able to offer some advice."

Sighing, you give in, if only to learn more about this side of Yelena you’re dealing with. 

“She used to be more…confrontational. I’m not used to her shutting me out this long. Frankly, it’s driving me crazy.” you say. 

“What did you do?” Natasha asks.

You chuckle softly. "Why do you assume it's something I did?"

“My sister can be a pain in the ass, but you’re right about her being confrontational. So if she’s giving you the silent treatment, you must have done something to really hurt her feelings.” Natasha says. Though she’s talking about you hurting her sister’s feelings, she maintains a neutral stance. You’re honestly curious how she manages that. 

"I found out something by accident, and I was upset that she kept it from me, so I left her event last night before she could receive her award," you reveal at last.

Natasha leans back on the couch, her shawarma wrap in hand, and points it at you accusingly with a smirk. "You screwed up."

"But I didn't even tell you what I found out–"

"You screwed up big time. Fix it. You don't want to lose her because you acted like a jerk."

Her words hit you with a dose of reality, and you realize she's right. “Got any ideas?” you ask.

"She acts all tough, but seriously, she's a bouquet-of-red-roses kind of girl,” Natasha quips, and then sort of shudders as her face turns sour. “It feels weird giving relationship advice to my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Yup,” you agree, scrunching your nose. “Let’s forget this ever happened. But thanks for the tip.”

***

As the first rays of sunlight gently filter through the windows, Wanda unlocks the door to her cozy coffee shop. Inside, the space is bathed in a warm, golden glow. Wanda moves with practiced grace, setting up the tables and arranging the chairs, each movement purposeful and efficient. 

The scent of freshly ground coffee beans fills the air as Wanda expertly operates the espresso machine. Rich, earthy notes intertwine with hints of chocolate and caramel, infusing the space with a comforting allure. She carefully measures the coffee grounds, tamping them down with precision, allowing the anticipation of the perfect cup to build.

And all of these she does with a silly grin on her face. While she acknowledges the need to establish boundaries(hence, leaving your last message on read), especially now that you’re spoken for, it doesn’t mean she couldn’t privately relish just being connected to you and basically just having your name in her inbox.

The soft creak of the entrance door breaks the tranquil silence as Peter enters the coffee shop, backpack slung over his shoulders.

“Good morning, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Hey, Peter. I told you to just call me Wanda.” she says with a soft smile. Peter grins at her sheepishly as he heads straight to the backroom. Briefly depositing his things inside, he sets about his tasks diligently. It’s a Monday, which means she’ll only have Peter to help around the cafe. Agatha has been increasing her shifts at the cafe, to a point where Wanda has decided that free coffee and food won’t suffice anymore. As a result, she has considered the prospect of forming a partnership with Agatha when the time comes to expand her business later on. 

As Wanda finishes arranging the register and secures the change inside, the jingle of the entrance bell announces the arrival of the first customer for the day. She swiftly dons her apron and offers a warm smile.

"Welcome to Second Chances!" Wanda greets, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.The customer is an attractive dark woman in her 30s, and she’s looking at Wanda with a curiosity that goes beyond coffee and cake–to which Wanda is completely oblivious to.

"Hi, uh..." she glances at Wanda's nametag. "Wanda. What do you recommend?" she asks, her focus solely on maintaining eye contact with Wanda rather than the menu.

"That depends," Wanda responds, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she considers a range of options. She starts with your favorite, the Spanish Latte.

“I’m not really into sweet stuff,” The customer comments, her gaze still locked with Wanda's.

Undeterred, Wanda quickly adapts her recommendation. “Our vanilla latte isn’t the overly sweet kind. It's a balanced blend of creamy milk and subtle vanilla extract. It pairs perfectly with our arabica beans. The combination creates a smooth and rich taste that might surprise you.”

The customer straightens her jacket, wearing a roguish smirk that looks ridiculously attractive on her. "How about you surprise me?"

Wanda smiles back. "Certainly. Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable. Your drink will be prepared and served to you shortly."

The customer finds a cozy spot in the corner of the café, settling into the inviting atmosphere. Wanda gets to work, and while she moves about the open kitchen, a pair of dark brown eyes watch her every movement. Then, from the corner of those eyes, catches sight of Peter nearby, diligently mopping the floor, and beckons for his attention.

“Hey, kid, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, ma'am?”

"Is your colleague over there single?" she inquires, discreetly gesturing towards Wanda.

Peter scratches his head, looking torn for a second, before replying, “Sorry, but it would be inappropriate of me to reveal personal details about my boss.”

"Boss?" she echoes, seemingly more entranced. 

Peter nods. “Yes, Ms. Maximoff owns this place.”

Wanda Maximoff.

Her surprise lingers for a moment before she nods. Intrigued by the revelation that Wanda is the owner of the café, she leans back in her seat, her eyes fixated on the gorgeous woman deftly crafting her mysterious drink. The curiosity in her expression intensifies, and it's clear that there's more to her interest than just the beverage itself.

“Anything else I can help you with?” Peter asks as he drags the mop over the last spot on the floor.

“No, thank you,” she replies as she continues to look past him. “I’ve got everything I need.”

***

The chicken has only been roasting in the oven for a few minutes when Yelena finally arrives home. Throughout the day, she had sent you only one text, informing you of her expected delay. Despite this, you don't mind, as you had planned to prepare a special dinner. A mere bouquet of two dozen roses wouldn't suffice to successfully woo your girlfriend, and you wanted to go the extra mile.

"Smells delicious," Yelena comments as she hangs her coat on the rack and slips off her boots. She’s wearing just about the same look on her face before last night’s argument, relieving some of the tension you’ve been carrying all evening. It brings you some relief to see that she's taken the initiative to speak to you first now that you're in the same room again.

"It's just a simple dish I make once in a while," you say, attempting to downplay its significance. The truth is, it's the only recipe you know, and it feels a bit awkward to admit that you learned it from Wanda. However, the origins of the recipe don't really matter to you. You'd go to great lengths and use all your resources just to make up for what happened at the gala.

As Yelena makes her way towards the kitchen, her eyes catch sight of the bouquet of roses positioned on the table, right where she usually sits. 

“What’s this?” she asks, picking it up and inspecting it with an odd expression that doesn’t bode well for you.

“Flowers?” you reply, your voice slightly shaky. “I–I heard you’re pretty fond of them so I bought you some–two dozens actually. I have a vase here in case you want–”

"No, I mean, why? Why are you buying me flowers?" Yelena questions, her tone filled with confusion and perhaps a hint of suspicion.

A smile of disbelief tugs at the corners of your lips, not quite making sense of why you have to explain something so obvious. However, underneath that smile, a wave of irritation crashes over you, fueled by a mounting list of grievances: the prolonged silent treatment, keeping her friends with benefits history with Kate from you, her not coming home last night, and (you just decided to throw in) her habit of neglecting to place her clothes in the hamper, among other things. 

Still, you manage to maintain your composure and respond calmly with, “Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you upset your girlfriend?"

Yelena lets out a hoarse laugh that lacks any trace of warmth or affection, and it strikes a nerve within you, igniting a deep sense of anger and frustration. The emotions surge through you, threatening to consume the remaining shreds of patience you have left.

"Upset? You think you’ve upset me?" Yelena's voice drips with sarcasm.

You set your jaw and nod.

"Y/N, you didn't just upset me. You fucking hurt me," Yelena's voice trembles with raw emotion. "That night was so important to me, and you checked out completely."

Your heart sinks at her words. You have never really seen her cry because of you. It’s not a pretty sight.

"That's why I'm trying to apologize. I got you these," you gesture towards the roses and the uncut vegetables on the counter, "And I cooked for you because I know I did a terrible thing. I tried reaching out to you as soon as I woke up this morning, but you refused to talk to me. And even now, I don't know how to fix this. So, please, tell me what to do."

“I don’t know,” Yelena says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “How about you go back in time and not leave me? Did you know that half of my speech was about you? And I had to remove that part because it was pointless to thank someone who wasn’t there.”

The sight of her tears glistening in her eyes cuts you deeply. It dawns on you just how much you hurt her. How selfish you were to think that your actions were justified by the betrayal you felt after your conversation with Kate. 

And things wouldn’t get better unless Yelena knows why you left in the first place. Carefully choosing your words, you begin to explain, “Kate insinuated that you two had an arrangement that wasn’t entirely just friendly.” 

It’s Yelena’s turn to be backed into a corner. “She told you?” 

“By accident,” you clarify. “She, uh, recognized the signs that we weren’t intimate with each other, and I… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that.”

A small part of you is still hoping that Yelena would deny it. The anticipation of her response tightens the knots in your stomach, and yet there’s nothing you can do but brace yourself for it.

After a moment of silence, Yelena lets out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I… yes. We were sleeping together at one point in our relationship but it never meant anything to me. I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

It’s one thing to hear it from Kate, but another to have your partner validate it out loud. And while jealousy brews within you almost instantly, it fuels your sense of insecurity. Why does it feel like secrets are always being kept, and why are you the last to know?

You turn towards the sink to run your hands under the water, your back on Yelena as you ask, "Do you remember the night I went to your place and Kate answered the door for me?"

"What does that have to do with..." Yelena starts to say.

“Yelena.” you interrupt softly, urging her to just answer the question.

“I do,” she confirms.

“Kate told me she had feelings for you that night,” you say, toweling your hands dry and observing Yelena as she looks away. “When you were sleeping together, were you already aware that she has feelings for you?”

“No,” Yelena says. “She only confessed once I ended it.”

“When was that?”

Yelena, though somewhat misplaced in the context of things, smiles at the memory. It was the day that made it painfully clear to her that she wasn't over you yet. Seeing you after all those years, married to someone else, was a hard pill to swallow. But she couldn’t deny how strongly she still felt for you. 

“When I ran into you in Soho, things didn't feel quite the same afterward.” she says. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Because it didn't mean anything," Yelena insists at first, but as she meets your pained gaze, it  hits her like a ton of bricks. She won a chance with you because someone lied to you and betrayed your trust. And for her to do something similar–

“I was afraid of what you might think of me,” she says slowly. “Kate and I were best friends, we connected emotionally outside of sex. But I didn't want you to think that I was taking advantage of her or using her.” 

"Why did you assume I would think that?"

“She’s wealthy. I was literally leeching off on that when I agreed to move into her apartment, wasn’t I?”

“Yelena–”

“It’s true. And I was too selfish to see it. More importantly, I didn’t tell you about Kate because I didn't want you to doubt my intentions or question my feelings for you. When you have me, you have all of me.”

You both fall into a long, tension-filled silence. You find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process Yelena's admission, while she anxiously gnaws at her lip, her eyes filled with worry.

"I think I want to know these things, even if they are hard to hear," you say, sounding defeated.  Just an hour ago, you had convinced yourself not to confront Yelena about Kate, believing that it was all in the past and that the feelings involved were one-sided. But now, in this moment, you realize that what truly bothers you isn't the fact that they had a sexual relationship; it's the fact that Yelena didn't feel the need to be open and honest with you, especially when you had been honest with her about your own experiences with Wanda. The lack of transparency and trust is what stings the most.

"I understand that it meant nothing to you, and I believe you," you say, speaking the words more to yourself than Yelena. "But I'm tired of people lying and keeping secrets from me. Am I really that difficult to be honest with?"

Yelena’s lips twist slightly, as her eyes water at the way you’re doubting what you deserve.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, taking hesitant steps towards you. You allow Yelena to approach, and she wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight embrace. "It's not about you. It's me. I was just scared–scared to ruin what we have. I've wanted you for so long, and I didn't take a moment to consider if my actions were truly in your best interest–”

“Do you trust me?” you ask suddenly, your voice muffled by her shirt.

You should've thought about it beforehand, but you both counted on your shared past, the years of knowing each other from childhood, assuming trust would just come so seamlessly.

“I want to,” Yelena says after a while. “I think I do, but not as much as before. I think I’m just realizing now how different you are from the Y/N I knew when I was a teenager.”

With a deep sigh, you hold Yelena closer, seeking comfort in her scent.  "I understand what you mean," you say.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Kate liked me?” Yelena asks. 

Pulling away to look at Yelena, you tenderly sweep her hair away from her eyes. "First of all, I don't think she likes you," you assert, your lips brushing against Yelena's temple in a tender gesture. "I think she's in love with you."

"That's not what she told me," Yelena counters.

“She doesn’t even have to say anything. I can feel it. I see the way she looks at you, the way her gaze lingers.”

“I guess I was too ignorant, or perhaps I didn’t want to see it,” Yelena concedes to the truth. Despite being fully aware of Kate’s true feelings towards her, she chose to remain in her company, desiring their friendship even if it meant causing Kate pain; Kate, who quietly stood in the sidelines as she watched Yelena fall in love with you for the second time around. 

“Should I… should I stop talking to Kate?” 

You shake your head. “I can’t tell you what to do, Yelena. But I do think you need to give her some space.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Do you see her often at work?”

“We’re on the same team and we share a mentor. So, yes.”

You think about Kate and how hard that must be for her. It’s only time and distance that can help, similar to how you presumed matters eventually settled with Wanda. 

Yelena watches you with concern as you grow quiet again.

“I shouldn’t have left,” you say, your hands coming up to her neck as you cradle it gently, feeling the tendrils of her hair at her nape. “You didn’t deserve that from me.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’m sorry too,” Yelena sighs, leaning into your touch. “I know that trust doesn’t come easy for you, not after what happened with–” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” you say.

“I know. From now on, I’m going to make a conscious effort to be more open,” Yelena promises, her eyes soft but resolute. “I keep forgetting you’re not the same person you were. Maybe because I fell so easily for this version of you.”

In that moment, you become aware of how deeply you care and feel for her. "I love you too," you whisper so softly that she almost misses them.

The declaration sparks something within Yelena, causing it to manifest in the corners of her eyes. And then, just as they lighten up, they darken–her want palpable in the abyss of her green eyes.

Tugging at the hem of your shirt and voice dripping with need, Yelena whispers, "Then show me.”

[in7ernt-ju1ce]

Leo loved Jason.

He loved being in Jason’s arms, it made him feel safe and cozy. He loved the way Jason’s arms felt like they could lift up the whole world. He loved the way Jason carried him around, feeling weightless off the ground. He loved the way Jason’s legs would swing softly while he listened to Leo rant. He loved the way Jason’s lips brushed against his cheeks when he leaned over to rest his head on Leo’s should. Leo loved Jason’s softness as he scratched Leo behind the ears. He loved the way Jason kissed his forehead and his cheeks. He loved the way Jason’s face lit up when he saw Leo.

Leo loved Jason.

He loved the soft touch in the dark. The whisper and small glances. The way they would creep up to the roof and laugh. The way they fit together like puzzle pieces. Jason never judged Leo, a small smile alway on his lips. Leo loved Jason’s soft snores when they curled up in bed and Jason fell asleep first. The way Jason’s hand gently rubbed his stomach when he felt ill. His caring Jason.

Leo loved Jason.

When he opened his eyes, expecting Jason’s hand in his. Just to see Jason in front of him, holding Piper’s. He thought it was a sick joke. And it was really. His lesbian best friend and his lover together? He wanted to argue about all the memories they shared. But it scared Leo, he only remembered Jason and Piper getting together. When?

Leo did love Jason.

Even with his heart in pieces, Leo loved Jason. The small touches from Jason, even if they meant nothing anymore. The small smile. Leo knew how the scar on Jason’s lips felt against his own lips. Right? He felt as phantom shivers in his body. Then why can’t he remember it? He was half of his soul, as the poets say.

Leo loved Jason Calypso.

Her cinnamon-smelling caramel hair that was braided over one shoulder, electric blue dark almond-shaped eyes, and a face that appeared to be timeless. Her soft hands. He did love her… Her skin smooth, no imperfections, unlike Leo. No scars, no scratches. His fingers glided over her skin. Like she was a image from far away. Nothing to gasp onto, nothing to show that she had endured tragic times. A painting covered in a box of glass, sheltered away from the tragedy.

Leo didn’t love Calypso.

He loved Jason.

Jason’s cold hand contrasted him, a comfortable contrast. The world must fall to fire or storm. To fire it shall go, a storm avoided till it circles back. A crashing of lightning as fires spread, a constant contrast.

Leo wished Jason would love him back.

The memories of the sparks, they shared, haunting him like ghosts as Piper replaced his spot. Only after he had dead, and came back, did Leo know. Those memories weren’t so gone. After all, Hera had to use memories from somewhere to create such realistic memories. Right? The unfortunate soul who happened to be pick was Leo. In the end, Hera could never let her Champions to truly be happy. Could she?

Leo still loves Jason.

Jason will never get to say in back in their life time. Maybe when they met again?

In a castle on a hill, two boys laugh. One dressed in riches, the other in rags. But they do not care. The spend their days together, never leaving each others sides. A universe where they can be happy…

One of the boy’s eyes flutter open. "Name one hero who was happy." Silence filled the air. "You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward.

"I can't."

"I know. They never let you be famous and happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret."

"Tell me." He loved it when the other was like this.

"I'm going to be the first." He took their palm and held it to his. "Swear it.”

"Why me?"

"Because you're the reason. Swear it."

"I swear it.”

"I swear it," He echoed.

They sat frozen in the moment, hands touching.

[rapha-reads]

Things from Interview With The Vampire s02e04 (ep11) I noticed:

[Edit 1: Actually this turned into a live-commenting, sorry]

[Edit 2: Keep in mind, I haven't read the books, so all of these observations are born from the show itself and the few (lots of) spoilers and narrative plot points I've gleaned here and there.]

Both Claudia and Louis are so bored with the coven. Or maybe bored isn't the word, but... Done? Frustrated and annoyed? Restless? Louis because he never intended to join and so cares not all for all their internal affairs. Claudia because she thought she'd finally have the life she wanted and instead is being forced to relive the tragedy of her life day after day.

And Armand rejoices in drawing them further apart, scolding and punishing Claudia while begging scraps from Louis.

And he's soooo jealous. The face he makes when Louis starts explaining what Dreamstat feels like is priceless.

Also, personal theory: either Louis is indeed suffering psychotic breaks after psychotic breaks, or just manifesting his own version of Lestat because he doesn't want to let go. Or Lestat can astral project and has been stalking Louis from the moment they left New Orleans.

The coven is tearing itself apart. And normally I'd add "and Armand isn't even seeing it/taking it seriously yet" but given that the whole of them are unreliable narrators and that Armand is a shady ass bitch whose only agenda is himself, I'd say he's well aware and purposefully making it worse.

I can't make sense of Santiago yet, though. Is he jealous? Ambitious? Is he fond of Claudia? Does he hate her? He definitely hates Louis, but is it just jealousy or real antipathy? Oh, but Louis is still my precious special kitten and that speech about Paris, art and modernity, as a contemporary culture student, made me vibrate a little out of my chair, and Santiago clowning him makes me want to claw his face. We get it, you hate him and you think he's pretentious, now can you shut up and let us talk a bit more about the art scene in Paris post-WW2 and why Louis is absolutely right, Picasso isn't all that impressive in the end? Thanks. Bacon tho, Bacon is interesting. My contemporary art teacher last year was excruciatingly boring, but he had a boner for both Louise Bourgeois and Bacon and we spent several hours on them (and not nearly enough about Mapplethorne, alas). Anyway. I feel ya, Lou. I have been called pretentious too for simply getting excited about art, culture and folkore.

I'm rooting for Louis and Claudia to kill them all off and run away to Italy. I know it won't happen, but one can dream, eh.

Is Armand messing up with both Daniel by getting into his mind and Louis by switching the photos? Interesting. Two people who have a shitton of issues stuck with a sadistic, insecure and bitter control freak who's been pulling the threads since way before anyone realises. And Louis is so lost in his trauma and grief and anger, he trusts Armand and doesn't see what's happening and been happening to him for 70 years, while Daniel is just a sad, sick old man who thinks he knows his life and what his future entails. Armand is definitely having fun.

"Je n'aime pas fenêtre quand fermée" is NOT FRENCH, MY EARS. I will be picky, I don't care for artistic licence. Correct sentence would be "je n'aime pas les fenêtres quand elles sont fermées". Admittedly, if it goes into a song, you'd have to respect the length of the line and all those musical measures. But still. You could shorten the numbers of syllables by dropping the language register: "j'aime pas les f'nêtres quand elles sont fermées" ; from 12 or 13 to 9, the original line being 8 or 9. Depending on whether you say "je-n'ai-me-pas" or "je-n'aim-pas" and "fe-nê-tres" or "fe-nêtres". Anyway. I'm sure the writers had those discussions (I hope; hey, AMC, hire me, I'm a good proofreader and I speak 5 languages).

Me: oh, Louis isn't even bothering now, he's directly talking to... Wait, is Lestat eating that photo? If it's Dreamstat: the hell is going on in your head, Louis? If it's Astral Lestat: that is certainly a choice, my friend.

"Barely Balthasar", LMAO, Lestat I fucking love you. Poor Balthasar always gets forgotten in adaptations. Nope, we're not here to talk R&J, moving on.

Armand: "this is my tragic backstory. Feel pity for me. I'm the good guy." Me: yeaaah, how much of this is actually real? And, uh, no, like Lestat said: ha! You're a storyteller and a conman, Armand. You weave your story to pluck at the heart's threads of your audience, modulating it to their sensibilities to better serve your own interests and your plans. What are those interests, these plans? Hell if I know. But I absolutely do not trust you at all.

HANDS OFF CLAUDIA OR I'LL BITE

"The wilderness that is our daughter" have I said lately how much I love Lestat.

Oh, hello, the Loustat scene on the bench just broke my heart, which is funny if you consider that that's just Louis breaking up with himself. Also, do we consider Louis knew about the initials in the pocket, and Dreamstat is saying what Louis wants him to say, or is it another unreliable narrator Louis, or is it Lestat himself...?

Aw, going from the Loumand scene on the bench to "toxic gay divorce with body count" sure is a tonal shift. Lmao. You're losing your touch, Armand. Louis' awakening. Daniel's awakening... San Francisco next, that will be fun. Excited to see how they've changed that part, knowing it's the red thread of the first book.

...

Oooh, that got long. Apologies. I really need to sit and read those books.