#anyway! here is your usual obnoxiously long post i bet you really missed this :)

[bismuthburnsblue]

ok so!!! i revisited my work from yesterday, going in and properly blocking out the style lines and strap (still up for change as i get into better fabrics but this is a lot more representative of what they would actually look like now!) (though i am noticing ive set my hemline lower- even extending it on nora, when anne's is quite high, so ill have to see how comfortable i feel with that)

i also took a bit out of the hips on the ally pattern which definitely helped with the shape (i was really just being lazy not doing this, ive used this pattern before and had to do that, i knew it was gonna be an issue)

Theres more notes on my personal thoughts on both patterns below the cut :)

same cw's as before for body image stuff :) (maybe this is silly but i just feel far more comfortable putting warnings + a readmore for corsetry)

(also! i will be doing a post properly introducing this project soon :) ive got a lot i want to say!!)

First up! both of these patterns are by Aranea Black, pdfs of these patterns are still available online but her website is gone now)

Ally is a 6 panel corset with extreme hip spring- heres what the pattern looks like:

i do think the hip spring gives a really dramatic shape, but i do worry that with my upholstery weight faux leather, it just wont sit nicely. on this mock up i had to slit my entire seam allowance at the waist to make it not tuck too badly, and that means cutting my boning channel in half (i think, still deciding details like that) i cant really afford to waste fabric recutting panels if i sew it and it does tuck, either.

(Technically i do have the option available to me to do a twin stitch like Anne's original corset actually has, but this wouldnt be traditional, and wasnt in my plan (even if i wasnt gonna have the bones in the leather layer, i like the /look/ of felled channels on the outside.) a twin stitch however would probably negate most the tucking on the waist point, as it opens it up rather than folding to one side.)

Secondly, the one gripe i have about this pattern is that big line of wrinkles below the waist- now some of this will be from the fabric and it not being worn in, but the "daily wear" version of this corset ive made before still has some of these wrinkles even now, especially over the first hip spring panel. i know theres ways to adjust the fitting to counter the ones over the hip, but those i think are largely from the way the fabrics pulling around the curve- its covers such a large area its bound to pull a little weird in places. I really want a smooth look, a clean finish is the most important thing to me, and i worry no matter what i do they will still be there.

I will say, Ally has a lacing gap designed into the pattern, which is something i want, as Anne's corset has one, and it automatically gives you more leeway in the fit that patterns without it just dont have.

Nora on the other hand is 8 panels, with the hip spring spread across a much further space. On paper it looks much less dramatic, but theoretically should still hold a significant amount of shape, just distributed over more panels.

I guess that would be my first area of concern, that the shape just isnt quite as dramatic as the shape on Ally. i really want something quite striking for this project and though pattern modifications can be made, i was hoping to not have to do too much past simples changes.

The 8 panels also means this pattern will likely eat up more fabric. if nothing else, theres 4 extra sides of seam allowance that the other does not have (though, these pieces will nest together better, so it could end up being negligible) it is a concern however, as im working on a very tight yardage.

One of the immediate positives of this pattern however is the lack of that wrinkle band like Ally has. Since this is worn as an outer layer thats a huge point in its favour, a nice clean finish is basically the top of my requirements list.

Nora also has no lacing gap, which is an issue for the reasons mentioned above (annes costume has a lacing gap, but also lacing gaps give more leeway in the fit, allowing you to be a little tighter on some days than others.) Its possible to draft in a lacing gap relatively easily, but it is something i have to consider.

Its completely arbitrary, but i also feel like the way the strap joined onto this pattern was nicer- it lined up better with the pre existing panels and i think it'd join on as a continuous piece better. again, its extremely minor, i just think its cleaner with less fiddling on my end.

I think im still thinking the same way i was yesterday, that Nora is probably the pattern thats working better for me for this, but its still very up in the air for me. i feel like theres more pattern modifications to do there, but that its probably going to be worth doing the work? but i am definitely interested in what anyone else might think!

[herstroywritten]

Their Aching Firsts.

I still have no excuse for my obsession with them. Not sure how I feel about this particular story, but I wanted to post something for the start of Rivusa week for the hell of it. It’s about 7k words (I apparently can’t stop writing them once I start and their works end up being endless). Oops.

Fair warning, there is a umm *spicy* scene near the end there. I don’t usually write those and I tried to keep it as vague as I could, but I thought I’d mention it anyways. Other than that, enjoy and let me know what you think!

The first times they kissed, it was fueled by anger- he grabbed, she pulled, they crashed.

The first time they talked about it, it wasn't so much a conversation of words as it was one of looks. His eyes said "I want you and it terrifies me." Her eyes said "I think I want you, too. And I think I'm finally ready to admit that."

The first time Musa realized her new favorite jacket was once his, she stares at herself in the mirror for over an hour. She misses lunch with the gang and Riven comes knocking at her door and opens it to find her standing in front of that mirror in a state of awe. She's bathed in black leather, sleeves reaching the tips of her fingertips.

"You ok?" Arms wrap around her waist as she toys with the hem of the jacket. She looks at him through the mirror and smiles.

"I just want you to know I'm never giving this back."

He huffs a laugh as he lets his head fall to her hair, breathing her in. Lavender and something sweet that he's never been able to pinpoint. "Not even if this falls apart?"

She whirls around to face him. "I don't intend on letting that happen." Her hands are on the collar of his shirt, eyes blazing with stubbornness. He knows then that her words are a promise, a commitment and not just a comment in passing.

"I don't know, Muse. You still have time to regret all this. Regret the ruin of your reputation. What will people say?" His words are teasing, but she can see right through them. She senses his vulnerability, his apprehension.

"There are a lot of things I regret in life- yelling at my mother when I was fourteen because I didn't want to clean my room, being a bit of a bitch to my suitemates at the start of the year, hiding instead of fighting because I was too scared to see what my powers could really do. The regrets are endless. But, you, Riven, are not one of them."

He frowns, blinks away the swarm of feelings within  him. "Yeah?"

She bunches her hands on his collar and pulls him down to her mouth. "Yeah."

"And what if I'm the one to end this?"

"And do what? Date some other girl for the hell of it?"

"Maybe, " he grins. "I hear I'm hot on the market now that I'm on the good side." She pulls him all the way down then, kisses him hard.

"Give it a try. Whoever she is, she won't last more than a day. And she'll defiantly never have you. Not really. I have you right where I want you, Riven. You're mine and you know it." She blazes a fire in him with her words.

"Oh yeah? And how would you know that?"

"You're here, aren't you?" She's all sass as she cocks an eyebrow at his question. "And, plus, it's kinda hard to lie to an empath."

And then she's kissing him again. This time with so much passion that he can't make sense of the world around him any longer. She pulls away only to tell him, "And I bet she'll never get that reaction out of you."

"No. No, she won't."

________________________________________________________________

The first time he calls her his girlfriend, it's not exactly in the situation she had imagined.

"Girls, I need to tell you something." Musa's voice wavers slightly as it rises above the noise that is their friends' laughs and chatter.

They're on the roof of Alfea, clustered among one another on the edges of old, shabby stones. The sky above them is dark and heavy. Stars wink at students from behind perfect clouds, ones that Musa remembers seeing in old cartoon movies that she used to watch with her parents when she was younger. From up here, the rest of Alfea seems like their whole world, its students miniature figures in a dollhouse. It's a perfect night, just as it should be. Rosalind is gone, out of the school and although that's not good enough, it's something. And Headmistress Dowling is alive and back in charge of the magical boarding school, where she belongs. From her perch up here, she can make out the headmistress' perfectly done hair as she leans back and laughs at something Silva is saying. She sees Professor Harvey heading towards their table, scolding students along the way to back away from the school's boarders. She's surprised that they haven't tried to stop all the drinking that going on. It seems that even the professors have had enough of the fighting, so much so that they're no longer focusing on the minute details of teenage life. Plus, she suspects that when they called for a party to celebrate the revival of Dowling and their taking back the school, they had fully expected the drinking. In fact, Musa had even seen Silva sneaking a few drinks to the teacher's table, but she'd never tell him that.

She can still hear Terra's squeal when Dowling had announced the party. And she can feel the toll of the  heels Stella had insisted she wear on her feet. It has brought everyone so much joy, this little piece of heaven that they're being allowed, and she's been so very glad to just bask in it. After months of walking around with her headphones constantly on, trying desperately and failing to block the thoughts of despair, gloom, and pain, she welcomed the change. It had taken a lot out of her, but she had even worked up the nerve to leave her headphones behind for the party. The girls had been surprised at first, but then Bloom had stepped forward, wound their arms together, and led her outside the suite. She's been getting weird looks from them all night, little side glances with small smiles and questioning eyes, asking her if she was okay or if she needed to head out for a bit, take a breather. She'd returned them all with reassuring smiles of her own, letting them know that she was fine. And she was fine, but probably not for the reason they thought. Yes, the students around her were happy and she didn’t have much negativity to deal with from them right now, and yes her powers were getting better. But the reason she was doing so well had to do nothing with the students around them or her ability to control her magic and everything to do with the specialist across from her.

Riven and her had been a bit of a dichotomy since the start of her second semester at Alfea. They were paired together for combat classes from the very beginning of Rosalind's reign at Alfea. He'd flirted, as he did with everything that had a pulse and walked his way, and she had shut it down. Odd how that had only encouraged his behavior. Odder how she'd eventually come to appreciate it.

It was a slow transition, their thing. She had been resistant to accept she liked someone so very opposite to her last boyfriend, hesitant to give herself to that natural disaster that seemed to be Riven. Honestly, it seemed like a loss for a long time. She'd lay in bed some nights, staring at her ceiling, listening to Terra's slow breaths as she slept, and just think about the fact that just a few months ago (God, it boggled her mind that it was only a few months ago… where did time go? And how did they get here, in a school run by a once presumed dead war leader and a woman that seemed to exude death from her presence alone?) she had been perfectly happy with Sam and the silence that he brought. Sure, they had eventually called it quits once she had realized she couldn't live in silence forever and he realized she needed to learn to shield herself from harm. It had been tough, but they were friends. And she had been okay being single again. Truly, she had. So how she'd come to crave noise- his noise, loud and obnoxious emotions that sent her body tingling and her mind reeling- she doesn't know. But it had happened and once she's finally just accepted it, the ball was in his court. Too bad for her though, because just as hesitant as she was, Riven was ten times more resistant to the pull that existed between the two of them. Musa remembers all the nights they'd sneak out and he'd teach her new moves with a staff and sometimes he'd let her use his swords, teasing her as she struggled under their weight. She'd head back to her suite before the sun came up, always frustrated because couldn't he see?! Couldn't he tell? Why else would she show up every single night without fail? Why else would she stick around when the training turned to teasing and taunting turned to conversations in hushed tones? Long story short, it took him being under mind control and her breaking it for him to just finally, finally kiss her. And from then on, it had been secret meetings in different corners of the school, in their rooms when no one else was around, and anywhere else they could find some privacy.

She's itching to cross the space that separates them currently and slip her arms under his jacket, an action that she'd first done on instinct but which had quickly become a habit once she had realized the effect it had on him. She's been eyeing him the whole night, fully aware of his gaze on her. There's a reason she hadn't argued with Stella when she'd been handed the lavender slip of a dress that she currently wore. She'd even managed to forgive the light fairy for the strappy silver heels she had practically forced into Musa's feet when she caught Riven staring up and down her bare legs. 

"Musa? What is it? Are you ok?" 

Bloom's worried tone pulls her back to reality and she forces herself to face away from Riven and toward the girls. She'd avoided this conversation for so long, but it had to come out at some point tonight and it had to happened before one of the girls found them in some shady corner with their clothes half off. 

"Oh, no I'm fine! It's not that." Now, how to approach what it actually was? 

Aisha's confused tone follows her reply, "Well, then, what is it?"

"Um, it's kind of a little complicated…" Musa's voice trails off and she has to physically stop herself from turning back to Riven to see if he's ok with this, with what she's about to say.

"Musa you're freaking me out a little here," Stella's eyes narrow at Musa's fidgeting her hands. Huh, she hadn't even noticed herself playing with the hem of her dress.

"Oh no! Did you actually kill that poor guy that tried to hit on you?" Terra sounds worried as Musa just groans at her words.

"Ughhh. Terra, we said we wouldn't talk about that."

"What guy?" Riven's question comes at the same moment as her whine, except his is louder and much more aggressive. All heads turn to him, and Musa curses the jealousy that she feels coursing through his veins right now. Damn it, couldn't he just keep it in long enough so she could explain to her suitemates what the hell was going on between them? His eyes are all rage and warning as he stares Terra down. And for some reason, she's all worked up at his gaze and doesn't know what to do with herself. She really shouldn't be so attracted to this side of him.

"What's it matter to you?" Aisha questions, eyebrow raising in his direction.

"It just does."

"Really, Riven? The middle school comeback? Classic."

"Stay out of it, Aisha. I wasn't talking to you."

They're bickering back and forth, and Musa can sense both their patience straining. This is not how she was hoping this would go. Finally, she steps between them, one hand on Aisha's shoulder and the other on Riven's chest. "Ok, that's enough."

Aisha glares his way one more time but steps back, Riven does not.  Instead, he turns to Musa and asks her, "What guy, Musa?"

"It doesn't matter, Riven."

"It does to me."

"Well, it shouldn't. It was just some drunk dude with a bad haircut. That's it." She's trying to reassure him, to let him know that this thing they have going on isn't just something she's going to drop the first chance she gets for any guy that makes eyes her way. She knows that's one of his big insecurities. He has it in his head that he's not good enough to deserve this, something that isn't completely fucked up from the very beginning.

They're trading glances, a secret conversation of their own  happening between them.

"No!"

All heads snap toward Bloom. The second she turns around, Musa knows that her redheaded roommate has figured it out. Bloom is grinning at the two of them, practically bouncing on her heels as she grabs onto Sky's arm and tugs on it. "Did you know about this?! Why didn't you tell me?!" 

Sky (bless his soul) looks at his girlfriend with confusion evident in his face, "Know what?"

Except it's Stella that answers, "They're dating."

And then mayhem ensues and Musa suddenly wishes she had thought this through because she's feeling so much from so many people right now and she's not quite sure how to handle it. She tries to hide the wince that forms on her face as she tries to answer all the questions her friends are practically screaming her way, but Riven must have noticed it because he reaches for her hand and pulls her out of the circle the girls have formed around her and closer to him.

"Alight, that's enough." It's the rasp in his voice that sends her spiraling every time he speaks, and she's putty in his hands. It's pathetic, she should have more self-control than this. "Yes, we're dating. Yes, she's my girlfriend. And, Aisha, no I did not pay her or threaten her into it. Gods above!" He takes a sweep of the room, gesturing to all their friends with a hand as if to say 'you're all very welcome.'

"Any other questions?" No one speaks up. Not that Musa would have heard any of them because good gods, did she hear him right? Did he just say what she thinks he said? Is she his… girlfriend? They'd avoided so many labels for so long that it had completely slipped her mind to actually name this thing between then by the time that they had finally become something substantial. And she's been fine with that deal, with not having to name their relationship, but hearing him call her his girlfriend has send her body trembling, fire coursing through her veins and butterflies bursting in her stomach.

And then he's pulling her away, down the stairs that led them up to the roof and between hallways that blend into one another as her mind focuses on the way his hand grips hers and the lust (his? hers?) that seems to be engulfing her whole being.

She lets him lead her into his room, onto his bed, and just as he leans down to kiss her, she moves down and places a kiss on his neck instead. Looking up at him, she tests out the word that's taken over her brain since it left his lips, "Girlfriend?"

"Fuck. Is that not what this is? I, I don't know- I kind of figured- I don't know. Shit, sorry-" If she wasn't so very in love with the idea of being his girlfriend, his something (just his), she would have let his ramble continue. She didn't get to see this often, a flustered Riven, and it was a sight she found quite adorable. But, alas, she had other plans for tonight.

She bends her neck upward, uses her toes to push herself up the bed, and kisses him ever so lightly on the lips. Just enough so that he stops talking. A feather's whisper of a kiss, against which she purrs "That is exactly what this is if that's what you want it to be." 

His eyes are black with want when he closes them and his hand comes up to trace the edges of her jaw. His breathing speeds up as he leans his forehead against hers, and that's how she knows he's trying to collect his thoughts, watching his words as he often does when he's scared he's about to make the wrong move, say the wrong thing. She swears she's going to get him to stop doing that around her, because she wants his thoughts, every single one of them, as raw as they are. She doesn't want the filtered version. And she can feel them, mingling into the background as his insecurity takes over. Her hands find their way to his jaw and now they're holding each other, "Tell me."

He opens his eyes, opens his mouth to tell her, just as she knew he would. He'd never deny her anything and she's learned that in the short time that they've been together. He'd collect the stars and fashion them into a necklace she could wear around her neck if she asked for the universe. He'd start and end a war if she so much as suggested it. He'd give her his soul, she thinks. All she needs to do is ask, and he breaks for her. Crack by crack. Splinter by splinter. Until he's cleaved wide open and she sees all of him.

"I do, want that. I want you." His voice is gruff, guttural. "What about you? What do you want?"

God, how does he still not get it?!

"You." A whisper, and then a kiss.

_______________________________________________________________

The first time he makes her cry, it's not because of something he said. It's because of something he did.

It had started like any other day- breakfast, classes, social gatherings at the end of the afternoon. Musa and Terra had just left botany lessons and were heading towards the specialists training grounds to meet up with Sky and Riven before they all went to grab dinner together. It had been all fun and games, Terra and her grumbling about how ravished they were and laughing along at each other's comments. But Musa had sensed the uneasiness that radiated from the training grounds the second they had rounded the corner of Alfea's large lawns. Silva was especially on edge, and the fact that he had all the upperclassmen and the best of the specialists lined up as he walked back and forth between them shouting orders could not be a good sign. And with an insane mastermind on the loose, Musa had feared the worst as anyone else would. She'd taken off running, and Terra had followed without any questions, trusting her instincts.

She only caught glimpses of Silva's orders. "… Five burned ones… Two upperclassmen faries out there already… We need to leave now- I'm going to need ten of you out ASAP. Five more will guard the school grounds… Any volunteers?" 

Her heart stopped when in her peripheral vision, she saw Sky and Riven's hands go up. This would be the third one this month that they had volunteered for, and the last time they left the school grounds Riven came back with a broken foot that he's still limping along on. The word left her mouth before she could think about it, "No!"

He turned to her, surprised to find her standing among the specialists. "Musa?"

She can't be bothered to greet him, not right now, not when he's practically signing up for his own death. So, instead, she stares him straight in the eye and says it again. "No." 

But Riven is as stubborn as she is, and she knows he's been itching to prove himself again, to make up for what he did under the control of Rosalind just a short while ago. His words crush her soul, "I volunteer for the outside team." He's talking to Silva, who's eyeing the two of them with an intrigued look on his face. He nods curtly at Riven's words. But Riven is looking at her, his jaw set and tilted upward with determination.

"Alright, Sky and Riven, you'll lead the charge. Get your weapons. We leave in five minute. Go!" And then he and Sky are running toward their weapons bags, Musa and Terra hot on their tracks.

She catches up to him just as he's strapping on his swords. Her hand comes to pull at his wrist, motioning for him to face her.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He won't look at her, won't meet her eyes. "Riven, I'm talking to you! You can't just volunteer yourself up for everything that could kill you! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Whatever you're trying to prove, stop it!"

He's reaching for his fighting boots, switching into them. Whether he's just not listening or if he just doesn't care, she can't tell. She wants to kill him. She wants to kiss him. 

"Please," she can't believe she's begging. "Please, Riven. Your foot. You can't-"

"I'm doing it, Musa." She sees fury, internalizes it before her insides form it into something tangible and she can see it, feel it. It's red and blinding and raging.

"I'm asking you not to." He won't say no to her, he hasn't done it yet. She asks and he cracks for her right? Right?

Wrong. 

"LET'S GO, SQUADRON 1!" She barely registers what Silva's command means until Riven is standing up.

"I'm sorry, Musa." And she knows he means it, because when his hands fall to her shoulders, quick and rushed, they're firm. He leans down to kiss her goodbye or as a form of apologizing, she's not sure, but she turns her head away from him and he ends up kissing the space between her cheek and jawline. If he won't look at her, then she won't look at him. And if he won't listen to her, then she won't give him the satisfaction of her approval. It's petty, she know that. She senses his emotions deflate at her actions, the feeling of rejection cutting into his heart like a shard of glass ripping through flesh. But she's seen this movie before, she knows how this story ends. Too many specialists have left the school's walls wounded and eager to pick a fight, only to come back on the brink of death or even worse, they haven't come back at all. And the idea of him becoming one of those statistics hurts more for her than her rejection will ever hurt him.

She doesn't turn to watch him leave, but she hears his boots beating against the pavement as he rushes to catch up with Sky… and then silence. 

She's so numb by now. Numb to death, to feeling, to crying. She doesn't cry. Not when Terra comes to hug her from behind. Not when they're back in the suite and Bloom is practically sizzling with anger at the fact that they didn't think to bring her along on the mission and that Sky is being sent on yet another mission. Not when it's midnight and Dowling informs that the specialists made it back safely.

She doesn't go down to greet them when the other girls rush out the door. Terra lingers in the doorway.

"You sure you don’t want to come?"

"I'm good." She's staring outside the huge window of their living room, refusing to look down at the ground and try to make out if someone is missing in the mass of specialists standing in the courtyard.

"Musa-" She feels pity and worry coming from Terra, and she doesn't want to deal with it right now. She just wants to be numb for a little while longer.

"I said, I'm good."

Once Terra is gone, she turns away from the window and goes to sit by one of the couches. She counts the floorboards by the main doorway of the Winx suite. One, two, three, four, five, six…

She counts them three times over before the door finally barges open, it's hinges creaking from the immense force of the push just enacted upon it.

Riven's eyes frantically search the room before they finally fall on her. He walks towards her, limps actually. (She knew his foot wasn't healed, no matter how much he insisted it was.) He has blood splattered on his right side. His or someone else's, who knows? And when he finally reaches her, and falls to his knees in front of her so that they're eye level with one another, she finally cries.

He reaches for her. She pushed him off. "Fuck you, Riven. Really, fuck you."

"I'm sorry. Muse, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

"Why don't you ever listen? You keep walking into wars as if they're welcoming parties. Do you want to die?! Do you have a death wish? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She's being mean, unfair. She doesn't care. If asking won't work, maybe screaming will. And she's exhausted. Exhausted of worrying about him every time he leaves. Exhausted of wishing he would listen. Exhausted of fearing he's the one that didn't make it back, because it's almost been him so many times by now.

"I had to Musa." His voice is soft, odd in comparison to the loud tone he usually takes when they argue about this topic.

"You always have to! You don't have to prove anything Riven. And you most certainly don’t have to die for no fucking reason!"

"You don't get it-"

"So explain it to me!" He sighs deeply, and closes his eyes. "No, Riven. Explain it. What don't I get?"

He finally opens his eyes, throws a string of colorful swears at the ceiling before moving his gaze back to her. "It's not just proving something. It's that if I go and… if I go, then one less specialist has to go. And that's one less person with people that care about them having to go. And that's one less tragic death, and then a whole lot less people hurt. If I go… who cares, you know? And, honestly, shouldn't it be me? A taste of my own medicine and all that. After all the shit I helped Rosalind do." She senses his bitterness, feels his anger and destitute.

He's an idiot.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"And you're beautiful," he quips back. She watches that smirk that she's come to love make its way onto his face.

"Flattery won't get you very far in life, Riv." Except, maybe it will. Because somehow and for some reason she's here, and she's crying over him.

It's like he can read her mind, not the other way around, "I think it's gotten me pretty far as of right now. I mean, you're here." The look he gives her has her twitching in her seat and she has to remind herself that she still has more to say to him. She can't just let him off the hook that easily. He leans up to kiss her, and she places her hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.

 "I care."

"What?" He's confused by her words.

"I care. If you go, and something happens. I care." She feels the surprise bloom from within him, and then a sense of overwhelming tenderness takes up his mind, and hers along with it. Her hands reach for him, " Come here."

This time, he obeys her. And as she kisses him, he cracks for her. Splinters for her. Lets her see him while he kisses her as if he's kissing her for the first time ever, ravaged and hungry for her. She sees it all- all of him falling into her and consequentially falling into place in her mind, in her heart. His insecurities, his fears, and his wishes. She doesn't shy away from him, but kisses him harder. His thoughts are exactly what she thought they were from the very beginning- a natural disaster. But she doesn't fear falling into them anymore, and in fact she thinks she likes them. She thinks she likes the way his mind works- ten emotions at one time battling to win out over one another. And when he pulls away, she likes the way his green eyes look at her like she's the whole world and the way his hands hold her tight enough for her to know that he doesn't think she's fragile but with enough care that she feels like she is all that he owns.

"Don't you ever," he's panting as he moves to place kisses along her jaw and at her collarbone, above her shoulders, anywhere the collar of her shirt will allow him. "Don't you ever pull away from me again."

She knows he's referring to the other afternoon, when he had left for the mission and she had closed off. "Why? Did I hurt your fragile ego?"

She's teasing, he's not. His hands are in her shirt and moving up, up, up until the offending piece of clothing is off of her. He's eager to kiss down her body, hands roaming the planes and curves that he must have memorized by now. He's kissing, kissing, kissing. Kissing away her tears, kissing right above her beating heart, kissing along her waistline. Frantic, needy, and- 

Oh.

Oh. She thinks she's in love.

________________________________________________________________

The first time they slow down, she feels as though she has seen heaven.

Riven's lips on her lips, steady and firm yet gentle, as his hands lay splayed over her bare sides and his thumbs dig softly into the dips of her hipbones. One of her legs is tangled in the sheets around them and her other is hiked up above his hips, her heel digging into his spine. He moves inside of her, and when she feels her hips meet his, she slides her hands over his shoulders and lets her nails graze his back. He watches her below him, eyes asking if she's ok, she smiles at him and says, "Just… stay. Don't move for a bit."

And he does, closing the small space between them to catch her bottom lip between his teeth and pull on it before he continues with his love bites down her neck, behind her ears, onto her chest. He's making his way as far down as he can in their current position, and she's melting into him and fuck, she wants him to keep going. But she also wants him to slow down because she's on cloud nine right now and from up here she can see the stars in his eyes, can catch them between the kisses of his lips. Her hands move from his back, leaving behind what she can only assume is a mass of fresh red marks. They move to his chin as she drags him back up to meet her on that very cloud and then they're eye-level with one another once more. She feels the want form within him, she always does, but it’s an odd thing to actually see it emulated in his eyes. And there's something else there too, something she can't quite place and doesn't dare to assume of. When his lips brush hers for the umpteenth time, slowly shaping her name between them, she feels herself sink farther into him, a feat she had previously deemed impossible.

And her lips part in a whimper because oh good god, how had they never done this before? They were always so rushed, pulling at each other's clothes and stumbling into bed,  falling into one another in a tangled mess of limbs and lust. Perhaps it was the fact that they had kept it in for so long, refusing to admit they liked each other and once they were together, not wanting to tell others for fear of shattering whatever fragile state they were in. Their relationship had started with fighting fueled by longing, innuendos charged with so many suggestions, and eventually an aching want that Musa still couldn’t wrap her mind around. Really, she shouldn't be surprised at how touch hungry the two of them had been at the beginning of the relationship. (How touch hungry they still were.) But right here in this moment, as she opens her eyes, she regrets not slowing down and taking him all in sooner.

He is a sight to behold, with tiny and larger scrapes all over his body that somehow added to his physique instead of taking away from it. They are tens of thousands of stars and she traces them over and over, forming constellations with his imperfections. The pads of her fingers run over the features of his face, committing every bit of him to memory, and as they skim the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, the question slips from her lips before she can stop herself.

"When did you get this one?" 

He pulls away from her, just slightly so that he can see her face, and his eyes are darker than she's ever seen them as he lazily responds with a "Hmm?"

She's high on want and adrenaline, but she vaguely wonders if this is something he might not want to talk about. Too late to back out now. Plus, she'd like to know. "This scar. Above your eyebrow. How did you get it?"

Riven stiffens at her answer. She can feel his insecurity downing upon him, clouded by the desire and the want that still course through his body but slowly easing its way to the forefront of the battle that is his mind.

"I have them too," Musa whispers as she braces herself against his chest and heaves her body upward, brushing her lips against that very scar in question.

She moves back down again, and pulls her left arm slowly away from under him. She turns her head slightly to her left shoulder, using her index finger to point to a sliver of skin that's more taught and whiter than the rest of her. "I got this one when I was twelve. Tried to climb a tree that was too high off the ground. Had to get six stiches. My mom freaked out."

His eyeline follows her movements, and he stares at her shoulder for a few minutes. His gaze has her squirming a little, suddenly aware that she's naked in front of a boy she's very much into and that she has just pointed out one of the many flaws on her body. But then his eyes flicker upwards and he leans down and kisses her scar, just as she had kissed his.

"You're fucking perfect, you know that right?" She could cry.

"If you're trying to get in my pants, hate to break it to you, but they're already off," she teases, her voice soft and a smile on her lips. How else was she meant to respond?

He chuckles at her words, his laugh causing her to catch her breath as it does each and every time she hears it. It's an occasion that has become more common since they got together but which is still far and few in between. The sound vibrates off his body onto hers and has her writhing under him.

"Love, I would never consider your lack of garments a disappointment." He circles his hips above her, and she groans at the pressure. "And I would most certainly never forget being the one to take them off you, especially when you insist on making those noises."

Her eyes are blown wide as she grabs onto his forearm at the side of her head, where his fingers are buried in her hair. Her chest heaves up and down, up and down, heart beating so fast she's certain its rhythms are all in her mind and that it's no longer there. She's fairly sure she lost it somewhere between meeting him and getting here, to this moment.

He stops his teasing, opting instead to arch down once more and kiss the scar on her shoulder. He kisses it over and over until she feels her heartbeat slow down and her breath return to a somewhat normal pacing.

She tugs on his locks, silently motioning for him to come back up. Up he comes, and she's glad that she's somehow convinced him to continue denying her nothing. 

"Tell me."

He knows she's referring to his scar.

They're nose to nose, foreheads touching, brown eyes boring into green ones.

"About a year and a half ago. Right when things started to get messy in my life. Messier than usual, I mean. Back then I was a bit of a nerd, hung out in the greenhouse all the time-"

"Yeah, I've heard a few stories from Terra," she cuts him off, a smile playing on her lips at the idea of Riven hunched over a lab bench with pretty vines all around him.  It's a sight she hopes to one day see with her own two eyes, a side of him she knows she's so very close to opening up.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you know how much of a dick I was after I started distancing myself from them. Sky, he got real mad one day. We were in Specialism class, learning some new sword tricks. I said some shitty things and then he tried to play the Saint Sky card. I got mad, I fought dirty. Scraped his arm with the sword. He finally snapped at me, landed a good blow right above my eyebrow." He laughed a bitter laugh at the memory. "Nearly missed my eye, the wanker. He apologized for two months straight. Either way, we both ended up in the infirmary and I figured I couldn't get rid of him. He kept me around and I stayed, almost like when we were children and we fought over dumb shit like who was the taller. Only difference now is that his scar healed and mine stayed."

That last sentence was loaded with so much, and Musa wanted to ask more but she didn't want to push her luck. She smiled at him, nudging his nose with hers. "So you used to fight over who was taller? The mental image of a baby Sky and baby Riven getting angry over something like that is almost, dare I say, adorable?"

He scoffs. "We were not adorable! We were two very manly twelve-year-olds with very some very manly, very reasonable arguments."

"Mmm," she hums against his skin. "Is that what you two have to this day? Manly arguments?"

"Are we really bringing Sky into the conversation while we're in bed?" She laughs, a full on laugh that comes from within her because his words were not what she had expected. "If you must know, now we argue over who’s got the hotter girlfriend."

His eyes are all mischief when she shakes her head at him. "Glad to see you two have really grown up."

"And I'm glad that I got the hotter girlfriend, because I'm not sure how else you've managed to keep me completely turned on while bringing up my best friend in the middle of us fucking."

And then it's her turn to tease him, turning her head slightly to the side so that she can catch his earlobe between her teeth and whisper in his ear. "I'll make it up to you."

And then she's flipping them over so that she's on top and she feels his breath catch. She smirks down at him mischievously and then they're off again, finishing what they started. She makes sure to go slow, to feel every bit of him as she moves, catch every angle of him below her and store it in her mind for safekeeping. 

And when it's over and he's lying on his stomach, back facing the ceiling, she moves herself on top of him once more. Only this time, she kisses every scar on his body, sometimes asking where and how he got them until he finally gets the hint and starts sharing their stories before she can even ask. There are so many of them, some tiny and some much more noticeable. All of them have stories. She vows to herself that she will one day know all of them. That she will be there to soothe the next scrape, the next trauma. With each one of her kisses, she can feel the natural disaster within him reach a rhythm, not quite silenced but at peace.

They don't sleep that night. Only once she's sure she's kissed every inch of his body does she finally worm her way back into his arms, but they're both wide awake at that point. His eyes watch her in the dark, hair loose and splayed around them like some sort of blanket. It had been in pigtails at one point in the night.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"I…I just," words knot in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow at her in frustration as he tries to untangle and spell them out for her. "God, I love you."

Just for that, she kisses his body all over again. And again. And again.

________________________________________________________________

Their first times have been nothing short of unexpected. It's never how either of them imagined all these firsts would go. They're not soft and tender, though there are moments like that in-between, but neither had expected that. Their raging passions did not allow for it. But what they had expected was a lot more arguing, a lot more push and pull. Instead, they seemed to somehow fall right into each other- crash and burn style, no holding back.

Their firsts were painful lessons that needed to be learned. They were gnawing pains that needed to be had, throbbing emotions that had to be felt and delt with. They were stinging feelings, these firsts- stinging because they felt too much too soon and too fast and neither knew what to do with all of that expect for let it bubble until it exploded before them in an aching manner.

Their aching firsts.

[rareficsnstuff]

Happy Halloween!! [Akaashi, Tendou, Bokuto]

AN: Okay, Anon, I hope the wait was worth it. I was suddenly inspired by the recent holiday so I combined your request with that element and I thought it made sense to place it in the Kuroo, Bokuto, Tendou post high-school roommates AU that I accidentally started here. Enjoy!!

Summary: Akaashi is invited to a costume party at Bokuto, Kuroo, and Tendou’s apartment, but everyone is less than pleased about his costume. And where’s Tendou?

Words: 3,878

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The doorbell’s tone mixed with the cacophony of chatter that buzzed endlessly throughout the apartment. It caught the attention of Kuroo, who had been conversing with some friends on the couch.

“Bo, that’s your turn!” he shouted over his shoulder to the kitchen.

“Yeah!” came Bokuto’s boisterous, garbled reply before he quickly threw the last bit of candy bar into his mouth and made his way over to the door. He swung the door open jarringly and it collided with the wall behind, leaving a nick in the paint.

“You shouldn’t slam doors. Be more careful, Bokuto,” the new guest scolded calmly.

“AKAASHIII! Hey, hey, hey!! You showed up ~.” Akaashi stood there looking bored, hands clasped behind his back, but as soon as the elder was finished with his verbal greeting, the younger found himself being pulled into a suffocating bear-like hug and lifted off the ground by his overjoyed friend.

“B-Bokuto… I can’t breathe… P-please put me down,” he choked out as he awkwardly hung in Bokuto’s grasp.

“Oh, sorry!” he all but dropped Akaashi on the ground, rubbing his neck and smiling sheepishly while Akaashi removed his coat and hung it with the rest of the guests’. “So… a ghost, yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s all I had. Sorry…” Akaashi’s ‘costume’ consisted of a white thermal top, a pair of old ripped jeans, sneakers of no particular sort, and the classic white triangle strapped to his head.

“No, no! I like it! It’s like… modern ghost,” Bokuto punctuated with a grand, theatrical wave of his hands. “You look cool!”

“You’re wearing the same costume you’ve worn every year since I met you. Why don’t you ever try something different?”

“Why would I try something different?! This is the perfect costume! Owls are so cool, Why wouldn’t I be one every year?!” Bokuto shouted proudly. Akaashi’s response was to simply stare blankly.

“Right, stupid question. Sorry…” he added dryly. Bokuto shrugged, throwing a hearty slap to Akaashi’s back, knocking the wind out of the younger and making him stumble forward.

“Okay, okay, come in, Akaashi!! You have to see what Tendou and Kuroo did with the decorations! They’re awesome!!” Bokuto cheered, closing the door and pushing Akaashi further inside by his shoulders. “Oh, and their costumes are cool, too! But I bet you can’t guess what Tendou is ~,” he sang in a challenging tone. Akaashi sighed.

At that moment, Kuroo looked over his shoulder at the commotion by the front door. “Heeey, Akaashi! Good ta see ya!” He stood, moving towards them to clap Akaashi on the shoulder. Akaashi’s jaw fell.

“What the-- “

“Whoa, wait a minute, where’s your costume?!” Kuroo fussed, pointing a disappointed finger at Akaashi’s chest. The shorter made a lame gesture of presenting himself with a lazy wave of his hand over his body before he let his hand fall back limply to his side.

“… That’s it…” less of a question, and more of a disappointed statement. Akaashi additionally pointed to the white triangle on his forehead. “Oh, yeah. That’s- that’s much better. Your costume’s pretty wimpy there, Akaashi…” Kuroo finished, dropping the sarcasm.

“It’s all I had,” Akaashi blandly repeated from his earlier conversation with Bokuto.

“Really…” Kuroo’s tone irritated Akaashi. Was he trying to pick a fight or something? The shorter’s eyes narrowed ever-so slightly, but Kuroo still picked up on it. Kuroo reached out, grabbing Akaashi’s headpiece and pulling it away only to let it snap back into place. Akaashi winced, lifting a hand to swat Kuroo’s away.

“Speaking of costumes, what the hell is yours supposed to be?!” Damn… provocation expert for a reason, huh? Akaashi didn’t care right now, though – he just felt like glaring at pain-in-the-ass Kuroo just at the moment. Kuroo smirked with a chuckle.

“What, you can’t tell?” he stopped, waiting for Akaashi to try and guess. Akaashi only continued scowling. “Mad scientist, dud! C’mon!” Sure enough, Kuroo was wearing a white lab coat spattered in fake blood and green faux chemicals over a worn out, grey t-shirt. He had an old pair of torn up corduroys that didn’t quite reach his ankles, long, neon green socks and some old brown loafers that were about a size-and-a-half too large. His hair though, was the real eye catcher: people who knew him would immediately be drawn to the fact that you could see both eyes!! Gone was his usual style of rooster-esque bedhead. He must have spent a lot of time and product to get all his unruly, wiry locks to stand strait up like that. The final details – Akaashi felt were a bit over the top – were a bit of dark eye makeup beneath his eyes – to make him look sleep-deprived, Akaashi supposed – and a pair of large and broken, circular-framed glasses hanging from his t-shirt collar.

“Not much different from how you usually look, is it?” Akaashi snarked. Kuroo’s haughty smirk fell.

“Someone’s in a bad mood tonight,” Bokuto interjected, looking awkwardly between the two.

“Hey, Akaashi, you seen Tendou tonight yet?” Kuroo asked. There was an odd, baiting tone to the question, but Akaashi couldn’t begin to guess where this was going.

“No. I just got here.”

“Well, unlike yours ~, his costume is superb! And I bet you can’t guess what it is?” Kuroo almost growled. There was no question that was a challenge. Now Akaashi just needed to decide if he cared.

Perplexed, Akaashi asked, “What are you getting at?” Kuroo only grinned, eyes glinting mischievously and Akaashi’s brows furrowed untrustingly in response.

“Oh hey, Bo, it’s almost 8 o’clock! I gotta get going!”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries, man! Say hi to Kenma for me, okay?” Bokuto replied sweetly.

“Sure thing!” One final swig from a cup of apple cider nearby, a clap on Bokuto’s back and an elbow nudge at Akaashi before a quick stop at the entryway closet to grab his coat and Kuroo was out the door.

“Kuroo tried to get Kenma to come, but I guess the shrimp wanted to stay in this year. So he’s gonna go spend the rest of the night over there and watch horror movies n’ stuff…” Bokuto explained.

Suddenly, from somewhere in the apartment, there was a shout followed by a string of giggles. Akaashi figured it was coming from one of the bedrooms, but he didn’t really care too much; probably some idiots on a sugar high from all the candy and sweets. He rolled his eyes, but Bokuto looked towards the commotion and chuckled.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi! Look at this!” Bokuto exclaimed, suddenly jumping to one side only to stand in front of a black light that was set up against a wall. He crouched into a kneel on one leg with is arms wrapped around him like a vampire, the feathered sleeves and horned (and beaked) hood of the owl onesie providing more cover to his face. Pausing there a moment – to build suspense? – he suddenly looked up dramatically whilst simultaneously throwing his arms open in a ‘menacing’ way, his face dramatized into a bold, sneering grin. The light from behind caught his form, lighting up the white in his costume and face, making him look like a gargoyle from a children’s television program. Though that probably wasn’t quite the affect Bokuto had been going for. Akaashi stared, trying to process what he was looking at and contain the urge to press his palm across his face.

“Very spooky, Bokuto…” he finally said, to which the ‘gargoyle’ stood to his full height, fists on his hips, and laughed triumphantly – obnoxiously, in Akaashi’s opinion. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss this at all and he found one corner of his mouth lifting. Only a little.

“Didn’t my roomies do a great job on the decorations?!” Bokuto asked proudly. Akaashi looked around, fully observing the décor for the first time.

“Yeah, they really did. The place looks great,” he said truthfully. Again, there was a sudden burst of laughter from somewhere in the apartment. Two voices this time, one more desperate than the other. Akaashi’s head snapped in that direction for a second before glancing back at Bokuto who was, again, grinning in that direction before he turned to meet Akaashi’s eyes with another chuckle.

“Anyways, there’s lots of food and drinks n’ stuff in the kitchen, so help yourself. And you have to try the apple cider; that’s my grandma’s recipe! It’s awesome!” he finished, pumping a fist into the air as he turned and went to mingle with his other guests.

Akaashi stood there awkwardly for half a minute before he decided to fix himself a plate of food. The evening was pleasant enough; he caught up with several old friends and acquaintances and even met some great new people. These were all friends and teammates from Bokuto, Kuroo, and Tendou’s high school years. All pleasant people in their own ways and Akaashi was almost fully enjoying himself after the whole Kuroo dispute. He hadn’t seen much of Bokuto since he left him to his own devices but the elder seemed to be getting around. He was in his element after all – one of them anyways. Every so often, however, there were those random bouts of laughter coming from somewhere in the apartment. He was never in the same room when it happened though; anytime he moved to another room, whatever was going on had suddenly moved to the room he had just left. And he had yet to spot the elusive Tendou...

By about 11 o’clock, the majority of the guests had gone home and more were trickling out by the minute. He and Washio were the only two left in the living room, comfortably chatting on the couch. Even then, with all the rest of the non-residential people left in that apartment, laughter once again sounded through the apartment. Bokuto’s laughter. Loud and boisterous intermingled with (apparently) Tendou’s own laughter. Akaashi thought about asking Washio if he knew anything about this, but decided against it, and all too soon, Washio was excusing himself to go home, going to find the other two for a quick goodbye before he grabbed his coat and walked out the door. Akaashi found himself alone, slowly nursing the last of his eighth glass of apple cider.

“Yooo ~, Akaashi ~! Haven’t seen you all night!” Akaashi turned to see, finally, Tendou emerging from the darkened hallway. Akaashi froze. What the hell was he looking at?!

Bokuto trailed in behind him looking like he’d just run a ten minuet mile; panting and cheeks glowing red, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead.

“Yeah, I guess… I guess we just kept missing each other… I’ve been here since eight,” Akaashi stammered, almost in a daze as his expression became something like concerned confusion. He was so distracted by-- what in god’s name was Tendou wearing?!

“Alright! Hang on! Wait! Full stop! Is that your costume?!” Tendou accused pointing a disgusted finger at Akaashi as his face twisted into abhorred imploration. The younger had to close his eyes, taking a minute to inhale deeply through his nose and release it in a heavy, frustrated sigh.

“Yes. It’s all. I had,” Akaashi bit out.

“Whoa, whoa, no need to get huffy, Kaashi, just making an observation,” Tendou attempted to sooth.

“You were making a criticism…”

“And what the hell are you supposed to be, Tendou!” Akaashi shouted, suddenly jumping to his feet.

“Yeah, you’re right, I was- but you gotta admit… your costume’s shit-“

“Akaashiii ~,” Bokuto sang, finally speaking up. “You’re supposed to guess ~.” The two residents both smiled at their guest, Bokuto’s expression was affectionate and playful while Tendou’s was smug.

Fuzzy. Red. Neck to ankles. Like he had taken part of an Elmo costume from a thrift store. There was a pair of matching red yeti slippers to complete the coverage while his fingernails had been painted black and a pair of black horns peeking out amidst his mess of spiky, red hair. The finishing touch, a bright green, feather boa lei necklace.

“How the hell am I supposed to guess?! You look like you just grabbed the first handful of things you could find at a second hand store!”

“Well, at least we know I put in more effort than you,” Tendou sassed to which Akaashi huffed. There went his good mood. “Anyways, you seem a little grumpy today, don’t you ~?”

“Yeah he’s kinda been that way tonight,” Bokuto confirmed, much to Akaashi’s growing irritation.

“I wonder why…” Akaashi mumbled under his breath.

“So… You really can’t guess what I am, Kaashi?” Tendou purred, creeping towards their grumpy ‘ghost’ guest.

“No. I have no idea. Wha- what are you-- ”

“You really need to guess what he is, Akaashi. But don’t worry, we can help you out with that ~,”

“Guys… What’s going on? You’re kinda freaking me out- please stop inching towards me.”

“I’ll inch wherever I want,” Tendou snipped playfully, looming ever closer to Akaashi and his growing unease of the situation. The red-head had him so distracted – and, frankly, terrified – that he entirely forgot Bokuto had been creeping up behind him.

“AH! BOKUTO! Put me down!” His old Captain had grabbed him from behind, scooping him up by hooking his arms under his Kohai’s. Now Akaashi’s heels were lifted off the ground and he could just barely manage to stand on tip toe. His arms dangled out to the side as he waved them around uselessly and his white thermal rose up to reveal a sliver of skin at his stomach.

“Still no ideas ~?” Tendou’s voice was oozing with mischief, giving Akaashi one final chance.

“… Wanna feel how hard I can kick?” Akaashi bit, snidely, making Tendou chuckle. And that was the last straw.

“Grmph!” Akaashi choked on a grunt, eyes widening into saucers and lips pressing together into a tight line. Every muscle in his body locked up in panic, but when Tendou’s thumbs on his sides continued in those unbearable kneading circles, he could feel himself starting to twitch and his diaphragm beginning to flutter with oncoming laughter. The laughter itself started as exhaled huffs of air and sharp inhales through his nose as his eyes closed and lips curled up more and more as the maddening sensation built.  When Tendou switched his touch to a claw-like kneading up and down his quivering sides, Akaashi couldn’t help the light chuckles that slipped from his throat as he turned his face into his shoulder and bit his lip to try and contain some of his more ridiculous reactions. Bokuto and Tendou grinned at each other.

“Oh, Kaashi… I think you can do better ~,” Tendou cooed, traveling his torturous claws upwards just to nibble at his lowest ribs. This had him spasming and trying to back away from the silly touch, but Bokuto easily prevented that sort of escape. The thing about Akaashi, though…, he didn’t hate his laugh, but… he had always been embarrassed to laugh fully in front of people. He didn’t even know why but, in this situation, he couldn’t really help it.

“Ppphht-hehe-- nooohohohahaaa!” Akaashi’s laughter picked up along with his struggling. He gave a few valiant attempts to pull his arms down, but ultimately realized that, with Bokuto being the one holding him in place, there was no chance of that… So, in a desperate attempt to protect himself, he reflexively brought his knees up as a flimsy barrier against Tendou’s searching hands.

“Oh, no, sorry, Akaashi. That isn’t gonna help you, bud,” Bokuto teased, feigning  pity as he turned his hands to flutter his fingers at Akaashi’s ears, making him squeak and shake his head. Tendou cackled at this.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Bo-Bo!” he said, grinning. Keeping one hand at Akaashi’s ribs, he moved the other to one of the now presented knees, making him kick out in reflex. Tendou must have been expecting this response, because he stepped aside just in time to not be kicked in the gut. All hilarity aside, he did not actually want to know how hard Akaashi could kick. “Easy there, Kaashi…”

“Naho! S-stohop thahaaaat!” Stupid Bokuto! Why did he have to be so strong?! With all Akaashi’s flailing, his former Captain wouldn’t budge!

“You’re sooo wiggly ~!” the red-head teased, moving to loop an arm around Akaashi’s kicking leg so he could hold it in place while he scribbled black painted nails at the inside of his knee through a hole in his jeans while still keeping one hand free to explore elsewhere. “Soooo? What am I, Kaashi  ~? Any ideas yet?”

“Drohop dead!” Akaashi giggled, quite unthreateningly.

“Alright, now that wasn’t even an attempt at a guess… And it was kinda mean…” Bokuto said from behind, still occasionally ghosting against his ears just to get that squeak again.

“Yeeeah! It was kinda mean!” Tendou agreed, ominously. The tickling stopped and Tendou dropped Akaashi’s captive leg. The ‘ghost’ took this chance to catch his breath, finally letting his feet reunite with the ground and attempting to regain some composure – but with his pink face, glossy eyes, and twitching lips, there was little hope for that. It was a couple seconds later that Akaashi realized that it was quiet and the other two had yet to do anything. Bashfully, he looked up, meeting Tendou’s predatory gaze and impish smirk. The sight made Akaashi’s blood run cold.

“You’ve really done it now,” Tendou started, dangerously. “You’ve disrespected me. You’d better tell me who I am… Or I’ll never stop.” With that, at lightning speed, one hand latched itself to Akaashi’s hip while the other fused with his ribs, fingers kneading, digging, worming, and spidering any way they could, looking for the best reactions. Akaashi careened when Tendou vibrated his fingers into his hip, wheezing around his laughter. To be honest, Akaashi hadn’t even really been thinking about what Tendou’s horrendous costume could be; caught off guard by the sudden tickling and then being too busy laughing… he didn’t have the time or focus.

“Wait a minute, Tendou, hang on…” Bokuto said, sounding way too excited for Akaashi’s liking. To his horror, Akaashi suddenly felt Bokuto slipping his arms out from under his only to readjust his hold to have both his Kohai’s wrists held above his head in one hand. He couldn’t have resisted that if he tried.

“OOooo!” Tendou sang, fingers wiggling excitedly. “Thanks Bo-Bo!”

“Oh no, noho, no, no, no- guys, please! Pleahese dohahaaaahahaha!” With his torso fully vulnerable, Tendou dove right in once more, switching between scribbling, massaging, and vibrating. Akaashi was screeching. He seriously couldn’t remember giggling so hard in his life, with his wrists tugging desperately (but uselessly) at Bokuto’s restraining grip and his face getting redder by the minute-- god was he crying? “GAAA! B-Bokuhuhuhehee! Bohokutoho, DON’Ttthehehe!” And it was getting worse. Bokuto had started running his fingers along his spine, digging his finger into the backs of his ribs, and scratching at his shoulder blades and neck.

“Awww ~ Look at you all ticklish, Akaashi ~. I can’t believe I never knew about this ~,” Bokuto cooed, grinning at the way Akaashi arched away from his touch.

“Yeah, you’re really losing it here, Kaashi ~. Is it that bad ~? Is this just completely unbearable ~?” Tendou’s baby talk had him burying his face in his arm once again, stomping a foot on the wood floor – a vain attempt to alleviate the hilarious, buzzing sensations coursing through him. “Well, it’s gonna get worse, boyo. Who. Am. I?” The way Tendou’s voice shifted so quickly and drastically from baby talk to that ominously, teasing tone… If Akaashi wasn’t laughing so hard, he’d probably be cowering in fear right now.

“WHOAHAHA! HEHEY! NoaaAAA, NOHAAO!” Oops… there was a squeal in there… Yeah, he was never living this down. But Tendou had started running one hand from one of Akaashi’s underarms, down to his hip, while his other hand did the opposite: from his hip, up to his underarm. Akaashi’s brain couldn’t keep up. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor as much as Bokuto’s grip would allow.

“C’mon, Akaashi, you gotta have an idea by now, don’t you?” Bokuto asked, fingers nibbling at the base of his neck. The poor guy didn’t know which way to squirm. Akaashi nodded weakly, tears definitely falling now.

“Oh do you?! Aaand ~?” Tendou inquired, now concentrating solely on his victim’s hips. Akaashi stumbled forward, neck too weak to lift his head to protect against Bokuto’s ongoing attack and only allowing his head to hang down pathetically as he cackled like no one had ever heard him do before.

“AAAAHAha! PleaHA-- YOU-HA-- YOUHA’RE THE T-t-heehehehe! T-t-tTIHICKLE MOHONSTEHEHER! STAHA--! PLEAHEEESE- STAHAHAAAP!!” Wow… Now he had resorted to begging. They were never, ever going to let him live this down.

“Sorry, what was that, ghosty boy ~? I couldn’t quite catch it ~.” And of course Tendou was going to drag this out. He is the tickle monster after all…

Tendou went from massaging Akaashi’s poor hips to vibrating claws into them while Bokuto also switched to poke around under his arms.

“TIHICKLE MONSTER! YOHOU’RE THE T-TICKLE MOHONSTEHEHAHAAAA!”

“rrrRRRIGHT YOU ARE, BOYO!” And finally, the tickling stopped. For good this time and Bokuto released his wrists to gently lower him to the ground where he crumpled into a giggling lump as the other two grinned down at him fondly. “I gotta say, Kaashi, I’m pretty disappointed… It took you waaaay longer to figure it out than anyone else.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Akaashi panted lightly. “You look like you just grabbed a bunch of stuff from a second hand store and threw ‘em together into that disaster…” He opened one eye to glance playfully at Tendou.

“You want me to tickle you some more ~? Bo-Bo, get-- ”

“NO! No, okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The younger pleaded, making his two Sempai snicker.

“Well, actually, you’re not far off. That’s just about what I did do. I’d had the idea planned out for months, but I still needed the pieces, so I thought the easiest way to find them was second hand stores at stuff…” Tendou replied, a pondering expression on his face as he recalled the experience. Akaashi chuckled, throwing a palm over his eyes when Bokuto joined in heartily and Tendou followed soon after in his own string of wild giggles. When they had all calmed down, Tendou extended a hand to help Akaashi up who graciously accepted.

“Okay, be honest, Kaashi… is that really all you had ~?” the red-head prodded, cocking an eyebrow incredulously at the younger. Akaashi grinned.

“No. Heh… I just didn’t want to deal with it. I grabbed the first thing out of my closet and made the headpiece out of an old napkin!” he finished just before breaking out into giggles again and sending the other two over the edge as well.

“Hey, I still think it looks great!” Bokuto chirped, clapping Akaashi on the back.

“Thanks, Bokuto,” Akaashi said, grinning at his former Captain.

“Happy Halloween, everybody!!” Tendou exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air jubilantly, making the other two laugh again. Akaashi shook his head.

“Weirdest Halloween ever…”

[princess-butters]

Just a celebrity [knj X reader]

A/n: Hi, I know it’s been a while since my last post, I legit have no excuse except that it’s procrastination and that I had no ideas to go by, I still don’t, but I’m trying my best to write as much as I can now. I have a fanfic in the works that I have coming up and it’s hard to write each chapter without it being mostly filler and actually relevant to the story, you know? It’s actually something that’s been in the works for almost 4. Fucking. Years. and I’m just now writing most of the chapters I have planned. It’s somewhat of a short story too which I’m glad because I was really worried it would be too long and dragged out with said filler but what I do have is a character introduction to the characters. It’s not all of them but it’s at least something to begin the story so once it’s done, I can post it and show you guys what I’m working on. But anyways I’m getting sidetracked. This was originally supposed to be for an imagine but it became too long and I decided it should be its own story so enjoy.

Warnings: [TW // Mentions of forced strict diet, and starvation, Namjoon really wants to eat but can’t because of his company, description of being underweight. Fluff with bits of angst. Y/n is a cynical bitch to Namjoon in the beginning but warms up to him at the end of their first encounter. It’s a fluffy relationship at the end. If I’m missing any TW, please let me know.]

Word count: 1.8k

Your first interaction with Namjoon was during his concerts in Korea since you were studying abroad and your friend, whom you’ve met online and was the sole reason why you wanted to move here, told you about a K-pop group that had debuted a while ago and it’s safe to say that you...didn’t care too much for their music and you only went to their concert to support your friend who was quickly becoming a big fan of them. It’s a unique story, really, it’s not your simple story of a fangirl who goes to some concert and one of the members sees them in the audience and brings them backstage. No, this was completely different. You never had the desire about fantasizing idols when you were younger, now that’s not to say that you didn’t enjoy music because you did, hell, you even own band merch that you still proudly wear but you never found them to be attractive like most fans would and always saw them just as artists.

While Namjoon did spot you and your friend in the crowd, he didn’t tell some security guard so you could exchange phone numbers – it was by complete accident and fate one day when you were walking home from the grocery store to pick up some food for you and your friend until you heard someone bolting towards you, running away from something that seemed serious. Annoyed and a bit taken back by his actions at first, you glance behind you not expecting much but what you didn’t expect was the amount of crazed fangirls heading your way. Gasping as you saw the hurdle of fans, your feet were stuck planted on the ground, standing there frozen with fear as the young, violent fans inched closer and closer, pushing each other around like a bunch of wild animals, until you felt the warmth of someone’s hand, presumably the same guy from earlier.

“Come on, don’t just stand there like a crazy person! I know a place where we can get rid of them!” He sounded young, about your age, the young musician took your hand in his and dragged you with him.

And that’s how you became stuck with each other behind some gritty, old building, trash bins and garbage all over the bleak scenery, you and the young musician huddled up together in-between two dumpsters as the loud and obnoxious cheers of fans faded out into the air. Both sighing with relief, you look up at him unimpressed.

“I guess this is your everyday lifestyle?” You question the young star and he lets out a heavy sigh, still trying to catch his breath from running so fast. It probably didn’t help matters that he was also dragging you along with him.

“You haven’t seen the worst of it. I usually find these girls in my room.” He tells you nonchalantly, like he’s used to it at this point.

“Shouldn’t that be considered trespassing?”

“Yeah but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m a big star around here and what these girls want, they’ll sure as hell get it.”

“Wow. And here I thought you were just another puppet for the music industry.” You reply back with a snarky undertone, lifting yourself up from the ground and wiping any muck and dirt left on your clothes. The young musician didn’t take your words kindly and narrowed his eyebrows together.

“Hey listen, it’s not as easy as you may think. Just be thankful you’re still alive because if they had caught you, you would’ve been roadkill by now.” He commented as if it was a statement of fact.

“I barely know you!” You argued, lifting your arms up to emphasize your point.

“Doesn’t matter to them. They see some girl out with a popular celebrity, they become lions and you’re their prey.”

You roll at his comment, thinking he’s just over-exaggerating. “Well thank you for the joyride, but I really should get back to my apartment.”

“What did you get?” He asks curiously as he stares at your bag full of food, he sounded like a kid who saw a bag full of candy on Halloween.

“Black bean noodles with rice on the side.” You explain to him simply, going over to make sure you got exactly what you needed and it didn’t fall out while you were running.

The man rests his hand against his stomach, it begins rumbling with hunger as he heard those three words. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday because of the intense and strict schedule his company has forced him to go through and he would be lying right now if he said he wasn’t hungry. “Black bean noodles? That sounds really good! That’s one of my favorite dishes, I haven’t had something like that in a while.”

You cross your arms, thinking it was his way of attempting to relate to you on some level. “Oh please, you’re a star! I bet you eat everything that’s handed to you.” You didn’t mean for it to come out so cold and bitter but you couldn’t help yourself, this was some celebrity and you’ve had a dislike for them because a lot of them are just stuck-up snobs who bully everyone lower class than them. The man gives you a look that even you couldn’t figure out, almost like he was envisioning the different foods he wished he could eat but couldn’t.

“I wish it were that simple. My company would kill me if they saw me eating anything like that, I’m forced to be on a strict diet and I’m barely allowed to eat a granola bar let alone noodles.”

Shocked by his explanation, you lower down your arms and began feeling bad for making such assumptions. You alternate looking between him and the food, clearly the thought of him starving had profusely disturbed you and you couldn’t help but send an expression of empathy and sadness to the lone musician. When you decided to speak up once more, your voice went up an octave, softly responding back in a more friendly manner, it was your discreet way of apologizing to the poor guy for being so harsh. “Really? I’ve never got it before. My friend likes them and practically begged me to get it for her.”

“Your friend has good taste. I guess I better get going, the fans have died down and it’s probably safe for me to leave. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah.” You mindlessly say as you watch him turn around before you could say anything else but when he rounds the corner, you quickly find your voice once again and call out to him, hoping he hasn’t left just yet. “Hey! If you want to, why don’t you come over and have dinner?”

He emerges from the side and leans against the bricks walls, hands in his pockets like he’s trying to protect himself from the freezing cold. “I can’t. Mostly because we don’t know each other and my company would kill me if I ate something that wasn’t on their list which is not many, to be honest.”

You slowly walk up towards him and look at him directly, taking a minute to look at his features. Poor thing looked like he was starving himself, even though you’ve never liked idols and found them all to be the same mindless puppets, it can’t be said for this guy. His cheek bones were hollowed, he’s skinny but to an unhealthy standard, and his eyes were baggy and darkened around the sockets, almost sunken in. You couldn’t tell if it was from a lack of sleep, starvation, or both. You hesitate for a moment before placing your mitten hand on top of his exposed hand. “But you’re starving. I can’t let you walk away and not have something.”

“I really can’t.”

“Please? I really don’t want to leave you in this state and the food I have isn’t that bad for you.”

After realizing that you’re not gonna give up on this and that you really were serious, he took a second to think it over. The thought really was enticing and he would be lying to himself once more if he said he wasn’t interested and desperate to eat anything, even if it came from a complete stranger, and he knew the food was legit because well, he can see it very clearly. “Well...alright.”

Once you heard his confirmation, you show a small smile and nodded with him. “Then it’s settled! Off to my house we go!” You latch onto his arm and begin walking home with him when another thought came to mind and halted in your steps. “Oh yeah, you’d better wear your disguise or we’re gonna be running from your psycho fans. I didn’t even catch your name.”

A chuckle came out of him as he placed his cap snug on his head and his mask covering half of his face, the only thing visible were his eyes, everything else made him seem like he was invincible to the public eye. “My name’s Namjoon.”

“So you’re that Namjoon guy my friend always talks about! Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.” You smirk to yourself as you two resume walking, the thought of your friend acting like a complete psycho in front of her bias entertained you.

Once you and Namjoon arrived at your place, your first instinct when you walked through the front door was give an explanation to your friend about why you were late and how worried she was. When you told her what had happened and showed her evidence to prove your case, her reaction was a lot more different than how she usually is. Throughout the evening, you and Namjoon got along fairly well—with the exception of your friend asking him benign questions about his career as an idol and if the other members are exactly the same in real life—you would frequently apologize for her erratic behavior as it worried you it would make the idol uncomfortable but he says it’s nothing compared to what he always hears from fangirls.

You and Namjoon surprisingly hit it off at the end of the night and you exchanged phone numbers when he was about to leave and promised each other you would meet again soon, this time without your friend in the picture. After he left, thoughts began to provoke and you wondered to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about idols for once.

And now let’s look at today’s events, where are you and Namjoon right now in your relationship? Well one thing’s for certain is that you two are officially dating and have been since 2017, two years after your initial meeting. When you two became more comfortable with each other, he had invited you over to the dorms and introduced you to his members, to which they immediately welcomed you into their group with open arms, you’ve actually become best friends with some of them. It’s been a fun and crazy ride, exploring different countries and cultures had never crossed your mind before but now you can safely say that it’s been one of the best things to have ever happened in your life. You were fortunate to have somebody like him and him you because along the way, you have made each other better, Namjoon had taught you that being guarded and stubborn shouldn’t lock you out of the world and it’s okay to let your guard down sometimes, and you taught him that just because he was an idol doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be any boundaries and that he was a human being first.

Whenever the media caught wind of your relationship, they always thought it was just a fling and that the two of you would break up like everybody else in the industry but so far, you have proved each and every one of them wrong and now both you and Joon don’t give two shits about what everybody says.

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Eleven | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: All Ages

Word count:  3,681

Chapter 11/24

Warnings: Just me being a baseball nerd.

AN: Thank you for your continued patience as I work on this story! Serving on a jury really threw my writing schedule for a loop. And then all the doubts and fear crept into my mind, but sweet friends helped battle it, per usual. The next chapter should be out by next week, it’s one that’s been in the works for a while and should be a fairly quick write for me.

Let me know what you think! Love you all, sharing this with you has been a delight.

A few notes from a huge baseball nerd right here - the game I wrote about is June 21, 1946, which was actually a Friday night. But they lost the Saturday game in real life and that wouldn’t have been near as fun to write about and I couldn’t see Flannery letting Sixth Floor off of work early for a baseball game. So grant me that one small creative liberty. I even used the box score from that game to help guide the chapter -- Pee Wee Reese is indeed in the Hall of Fame and ball parks all over the country broke attendance records in 1946. If anyone cares, the Dodgers and Cardinals ended up tied that season, so they had an extra series of games to determine who won the Pennant that year; sadly, the Dodgers lost. And the 1941 game that Bucky recounts? Same game as the one Steve hears on the radio when he wakes up in modern day New York in CA:TFA.

Chapter Ten

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

“You’ve honestly never been to a pro ball game before?” Bucky eyes you as he hands over two tickets to the Ebbet’s Field worker who waves you through the turnstiles.

Brooklyn Dodgers fans swarm around the two of you, the number of people surprising. The late June heat is near-stifling and you find yourself grateful for your sundress and hat; sweat had already broken out on Bucky’s brow as he adjusts his suit jacket. At least he had a hat to try to ward off some of the sun. A ballpark wasn’t your first choice of location for a Saturday date but Bucky had been so excited to introduce you to the team and sport he loved, you couldn’t refuse.

“Nope, never. My hometown is pretty small and Dad wasn’t interested.”

Bucky’s hand finds its way into yours before he grins at you. “Well, then. Guess it’s my job to make sure you get The Dodgers Experience. Let’s get you a hot dog.”

The smell of sausage wafts toward you from the concession stand. Each step forward is announced by the distinct crunch of peanut shells beneath your feet. While waiting in line, you turn and catch sight of the field for the first time. Chalk lines indicating foul territory are fresh; you note the players warming up on the field make an extra effort to avoid stepping on the white. The vibrant expanse of green grass spreads much further than you had expected. You couldn’t imagine how anyone managed to hit a small ball far enough to launch out of a park of this size, though you know it was not unusual.

Bucky turns to you in line and states matter-of-factly, “There are three important things you need to know today: we love the Dodgers, hate the Yankees, and are in a bitter rivalry with St. Louis - who we are playing today.”

You hum and muse, “I bet the games against the Yankees are intense since fans are all here in New York.”

“Oh, we don’t play them during the regular season. We’re in different leagues.” Bucky then steps up to the stand, ordering you hot dogs and a bag of peanuts.

Narrowing your eyes, you squint at him dramatically. “That doesn’t make any sense, why do we hate them if we never play them?”

He thanks the attendant and hands over your food, leading the way toward your seats. “It’s the principle of the thing, they take up New York fan real estate. You’re not wrong, though, the World Series games we’ve played against them have been pretty ugly. Plus, they’re from the Bronx. What could be worse?”

Following as he begins to descend giant concrete steps down toward the field you ask, “Isn’t there a third New York baseball team?”

His chuckle floats back up to you. “The Giants are in last place, they’re not a problem.”

“Okay, why are we in a rivalry with St. Louis?”

“Been neck-and-neck all season,” he says as he motions you down the narrow row to your seats close to third base. “People are already saying it’s gonna be either us or them in the World Series.”

“Isn’t it a few months early for that?” you follow his gesture before plopping onto the small chair that was marked the same as your ticket. The wooden seats were painted royal blue to match the team’s jersey colors, offering a bright pop in the stadium. Sitting down made you realize how crowded the seats were; thank goodness the idea of being close to Bucky wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“It’s all about the long game. Four months will fly by and every game counts.” He settles into his seat beside you before digging into his ballpark meal. “Alright, how much do you know about the game?”

You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend. “I’m not dumb, Bucky. I played street ball as a kid. You try to hit the ball with the bat, run the bases, make it to home plate to score points.”

“Runs,” he mumbles around a mouthful. You tilt your head in confusion before you bite into your hot dog as well. “They aren’t points in baseball. You score runs.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes. “You’re that kind of fan.”

“A dedicated one? Yes, yes I am.” He offers a smug smile as he chews which only prompts you to slap his shoulder in good nature.

“More like an obnoxious one.”

He takes great offense to that and blurts out, “Baseball has been part of my life for as long as I can remember! Whether it was with my family or just Dad, this field has always been a happy place. It’s one of the few places Dad and I got along.”

You let the weight of that admission settle before you get a laugh out of Bucky when you moan over how great the hot dog tastes, soon after he affectionately slaps at your hand when you reach for the bag of peanuts in his lap.

“That’s who you wanna keep your eye on today,” he points to a player standing between second and third base. The stout man scoops up a ball tossed from the first baseman, easily throwing it back in a laser-straight line. “Pee Wee Reese. Best shortstop in baseball right now.”

“Pee Wee? Please tell me that’s a nickname.” 

Bucky nods before continuing, “He’s gonna be in the Hall of Fame one day, I guarantee it. He missed three seasons serving in the Navy. As soon as he stepped on the field again, we all knew we had a shot at the Pennant. A lot of the players served in the war, but things are finally getting back to normal.”

“Sure seems like it.” Again, the dull roar of the crowd milling around the stadium registers with you. You turn in your seat, mentally counting the large number of people just in your section.  “There are so many people here, a ton more than I thought there would be.”

“I read something last week that said they’re on track to double their attendance from last year.” His gaze settles across the field, though he’s definitely not paying attention to the activity. “I guess watching baseball doesn’t really feel like a guilty pleasure anymore. People can really enjoy the game again rather than always thinking about the worst thing that could happen.”

Before you can respond, the crowd shuffles to their feet for the national anthem and the reading of the rosters before the teams take the field, Dodgers in their gray and blue home uniforms on the field, the Cardinals in brilliant red and white jerseys at bat. The game begins amid the encouragement of the crowd.

Minutes into the game the Cardinals already scored two runs, to which the Dodgers responded with their own two runs during their share of the inning. The spectators were raucous, booing St. Louis’ success and losing their minds in excitement for their home team. It was easy to get caught up in the fervor of taking every play, every out seriously. 

You tried not to be obvious about it, but you couldn’t stop watching Bucky. In an environment that by all means should be chaotic, triggering, and at the very least, bothersome, he couldn’t be more at home. His posture is nonchalant even in the cramped space; an arm tucked across the back of your seat, legs spread comfortably. You couldn’t remember a time in your short relationship when he’d been this chatty.

That’s when it strikes you that Bucky is completely in his element. This crowd, these noises, this environment - they weren’t sudden or jarring to him like they were to you. It was familiar. Homey, even. So far he’d only shared fond memories of the place; but even he could admit that it wasn’t the fanciest park in the world. Your heart swells at the easiness of his tone, the confidence in his speech. He looked truly like himself; like a much-younger, carefree Bucky. You loved it.

As if he can feel your eyes on him, Bucky leans into you further before clearing his throat. “Did I ever tell you about the game Steve and I saw in ‘41?”

At the shaking of your head, he continues. “Five years ago, we were here for a game against Philadelphia. The crowd was restless because the Phillies had just tied up the game. Pete Reiser, our left-fielder,” Bucky points out the outfielder closest to your seats, who was poised on his toes, ready to head in whichever direction the ball headed. “He was up to bat. Now, the Phillies’ pitcher had hit Reiser with a pitch just the month before, almost caused a fight on the field. Anyway, our bases are loaded, and all we’ve got is this 22 year old who is barely out of his rookie season.”

A spark ignites in Bucky’s eyes as he mimics a swing, “Next pitch, Pete puts everything into his swing - sends the ball sailing right over the outfields’ heads. All the runners that were on base scored. Reiser wasn’t the fastest of the bunch but I’m telling you, he was flying like a bat out of hell. His coach on third base waved for him to keep running for home. The outfielder finally gets the ball into the infield, the infield throws the ball home. . . Pete hit the ground for a slide - and he scored.” 

Bucky’s animated antics had you smiling, completely enraptured with his story. “An in-the-park grand slam, the first one I had ever seen - hell, the first one almost anyone had ever seen; it hardly ever happens. You should’ve heard it in here, it was at least 10 times louder than it is right now. I thought we were going to bring the stadium down with how loud we were screaming.” A grin takes up his entire countenance before he lets out a laugh. “I remember Steve got into a really bad coughing fit right after, he almost turned blue. He couldn’t breathe for shit, but he sure was noisy.”

You both dissolve into giggles, mostly due to you imagining poor Steve hacking up a lung while Bucky watches on with a laugh. Surely there couldn’t be a much clearer picture of their friendship.

Moments after the Dodgers score yet again, Bucky shouts out to a man walking up and down the stadium stairs, yelling something about food. “Can I get two boxes of Cracker Jacks?” Coins are flipped and boxes are tossed, and before you know it you’re both ripping into your respective packages. “What toy did you get?” he asks as he scrounges to the bottom of his carton.

You pull out a small plastic figurine, brilliantly blue. “How appropriate, a baseball player swinging a bat. What’d you get?”

Bucky finally manages to get his hands on the prize. “A. . . bright orange cowboy? Come on, I wanted a Dodger player too!” Not being able to stop your bark of laughter at his childish whine, you pluck the toy from his fingers and replace it with your own.

“There, you happy?”

“Well now you’re stuck with the dumb cowboy,” he quips, winking gratefully as he pockets the prize before grabbing a handful of the treat. “I owe you one.”

“I think I’ll survive, thanks.” You dig into your own snack, the caramel crunch delightful after your salty meal. “How’re your courses coming along?”

“Tough, but good. Really getting to the meat of it now. Feel like I spend almost all my time studying.”

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

He turns from the game, wrinkles around his eyes softening ever-so-slightly. “Thanks, doll.”

“Back at your apartment Steve mentioned you were still washing windows. That true?”

“Mhmm,” he hums noncommittally.

“Why? Is your monthly stipend not enough?”

He only shrugs and says, “It’s familiar.” Focusing on the game again, he joins the crowd in yelling at an umpire who made an apparently questionable call.

And there was that wall of his. A wall you wanted to push against with all your strength, asking every question that ran through your mind. But he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. And it wasn’t your place to force them down either. So you pop another handful of crackerjacks into your mouth and crunch away.

Three outs are reached and all of a sudden the entire audience stands to their feet as the announcer proclaims it’s time for the “Seventh Inning Stretch”. 

“Wait,” you say as Bucky stands to his feet. He stares down at you, seeming confused as to why you’re still sitting. “People actually do a seventh inning stretch?”

“Well. . . yeah.”

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s my first game!”

He tries - and fails - to smother a laugh. “Yes, the seventh inning stretch is real. We’ve been sitting for,” he checks his watch, “almost two hours now in a cramped space. Plus we sing songs, it’s fun.”

Your nose wrinkles in suspicion. “That sounds made up.”

“I promise!” another laugh escapes him. “Come on, stretch with me.”

Looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t trying to publicly humiliate you, you do indeed find almost everyone standing and shuffling around in some fashion. You mirror Bucky as he stretches his arms to the sky while standing on his tiptoes, followed by rolling his shoulders and shifting his weight from foot to foot. As you open your mouth to confront him about his blatant lie of singing, rousing organ music blares over the speakers attached to the balconies.

You almost jump out of your skin, grabbing onto Bucky’s arm tightly. He only offers a smirk as he joins in with an obnoxious amount of gusto to ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game”.

Except he saw it fitting to add on his own commentary.

“Take me out to the ball game -- you’re welcome, I already did. Take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks - again, you’re welcome. I don’t care if I never get back - you will get back, don’t worry. Let me root, root, root for the -” and then the entire stadium screams, “DODGERS! If we don’t win it’s a shame - we will.

For it’s ONE! TWO! THREE! strikes you’re out at the oooold baaaaall gaaaame!”

Again, the crowd is cheering and you feel a bit like 30,000 people were playing a joke on you. Was this actually a tradition? Bucky insisted it was.

The next inning is fairly quiet; the majority of the gameplay sticking to home plate in the ongoing duel between pitcher and batter. You settle back into your seat, mind wandering for a moment before you realize that Bucky had fallen silent in the past few minutes. Turning to ask a question, it dies on your lips as you take in his state. His thumb is rubbing against the tips of his other fingers constantly, his foot tapping a steady beat beneath him. You’re fairly certain if he keeps biting his lip like that he’s going to draw blood.

Everything in you wants to ask what’s wrong, what had changed, what you can do to help.

But maybe that’s not what he needs right now.

Instead, you place your hand over his fidgety one, squeezing his fingers tightly. His head swings to you. Releasing his lip from between his teeth he takes a deep breath before making a terrifying statement.

“I, uh. . . wanted to ask you something.”

The bustle of the crowd fades away. The yelling, the taunting, the outraged fans, all fall on deaf ears. In this moment, your focus zeroes in on him - eyes latching onto his icy blue ones, the knit of his brow causing your stomach to flip.

“Okay. Ask away.”

I’ve gotten really good at faking being calm.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but you’ve become very important to me.” He pauses, further prolonging your terror. “Would you wanna meet my family soon?” His thumb is rubbing across the top of your hand, squeezing ever so slightly.

A smile that is equal parts relieved and thrilled makes its way to your face. “You want me to meet your family?”

He casts his eyes down, still playing with your fingers. “If that’s somethin’ you want. I know everyone at once could be overwhelming, maybe instead we could have dinner with just Becca first?”

“Bucky.” Finally looking at you again, you do everything in your power to show him just how sincere you really are. “I would love to come.”

He gives you a disbelieving smile in return, cocking his head as he asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling heat in your cheeks that had nothing to do with the sweltering temperature.

“Okay,” he sighs, lifting his hat with his other hand to run fingers through his hair. “We do dinner together every Sunday night. Dad’ll be out of town on business until Wednesday so it’ll just be us and the girls. That okay?”

“It’s more than okay. I’m really, really excited to meet everyone.”

Neither of you realize that you’d been lost gazing at each other adoringly until the crowd erupts, everyone leaping to their feet as Pee Wee Reese hits the ball, allowing his teammate on third base to score a run. But all Bucky does is bring the hand holding his up to his mouth and places a gentle kiss to your knuckles, eyes locked on yours. His action knocks loose the feelings and memories from your first date all those months ago when he’d done the exact same thing.

The game ends in a Dodgers victory, prompting a whooping cheer and applause from the crowd. As you shuffle out of the park along with the rest of the patrons - like content cattle, Bucky jokes - an ominous boom floats down from the heavens.

“Sounds like it may rain. Let’s stop by my apartment to grab an umbrella before we get you home.”

You’d long since learned that Bucky walking you home after spending time together was a non-negotiable. No matter your arguments the night always ended with Bucky kissing you goodnight on your doorstep and whistling a tune down the street. Could you easily hop on the subway by yourself and be home at a much more efficient time? Yes. Were you upset about the additional time spent with your window washer? Mmm, you really couldn’t say no.

The pair of you climb up the steps to his apartment, his keys jingling in his hand when you hear raised voices coming from behind his front door. Bucky’s eyebrows pull together, looking utterly confused as worry bubbles in your chest.

Framing the door you both lean in, now able to clearly make out Steve’s low and Peggy’s clipped tones.

“Uh-oh,” Bucky mutters. You tilt your head in question. “Something big has been brewing at work. I’m guessing this has something to do with it.”

Initially you’d laughed when Bucky had admitted that Peggy and Steve worked for a lesser-known, semi-covert government agency - SRS? SRR? Something like that. The same people who had been responsible for making Steve into Captain America, is what you’d gleaned from his vague explanation. Connie had actually been right about it and you owed her an apology drink.

You couldn’t help but be grateful that Bucky hadn’t chosen that line of work; you didn’t think you could handle him dealing with the bizarre and unexplainable happenings throughout the world and not worry about his well being every second of every day.

Bucky shifts to turn the doorknob when your hand flies to his, your head shaking vehemently.

“The umbrella is just inside the door, they’ll have no idea I was even here,” he assures. Reluctantly you remove your hand, allowing Bucky to crack the door open. Muffled voices turn into clear words as Peggy and Steve disagree - rather loudly.

“By all means, fly out on a mission tonight if that’s what you really want.” Steve’s sarcasm cuts deep - and you aren’t even on the receiving end.

“God, can you get it through your thick skull that I’m doing what I have to do? That I’ve been given orders?” You could hear the barely-checked rage seething from Peggy as Bucky slides through the narrow opening he’d allowed himself.

Steve scoffs, “Orders? You really wanna tell me - you demanded they let you in on this!”

“Even if I did, what gives you the right to tell me I shouldn’t go? Because they told you ‘no’? Because you don’t think I’m capable of doing this?”

“You know me better than that. Of course I know you’re capable.”

“Then what could it possibly be?”

“When we were overseas, I always had you as backup. You always had me. And I don’t trust any of those fucking idiots to have your back over there.”

“I don’t need to be saved, Steven!”

“That’s not what I’m-”

Bucky appears in the doorway again with the umbrella in tow, though he’s more focused on the ongoing bickering than closing the door.

You’d missed a few lines back and forth by the time Bucky is back at your side, both of you pressing against the door to hear.

Peggy’s voice comes through slightly softer. “You need to trust me when I tell you that in the moment they will do what needs to be done.”

“Can you be sure of that? You know that I respect you, that I know you are worth 10 other agents. But do they?”

Bucky pulls the door closed, breathing deeply. “Well. That’s gonna be fun to hear about when I get home.”

You raise a brow when Bucky offers his arm to help you down the staircase. “You really think he’ll be in the sharing mood?”

“Trust me,” he gives an ungraceful snort, “He’ll probably keep me up all night with his dumb puppy-dog eyes and moping.”

“Steve, moping?” you ask with a giggle.

As you emerge back onto the busy New York street, Bucky unfurls the umbrella against the soft pitter-patter of rain. He gives you a sidelong glance before muttering, “You have no idea.”

Chapter Twelve

Tags:

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[koi-sims]

Do Sim Evil Better.

I’d been knockin’ this idea around for a long time, and after collecting (or making, in the case of the CAS background) all the right cc, I decided to do something fun and unrelated to my stories and make the most handsome, most ingenious, and most evil man to ever exist in a narrative, Corin Deeth III (who actually named the Corin in my current storyline - Corin with two “r”. #bigFan).

Reader, you may or may not be familiar with the story of Kakos Industries and if you aren’t you truly are missing out. It is the best podcast I’ve listened to since The NoSleep Podcast, and to be honest...I think it actually one-ups my beloved NoSleep. It is a very fun and witty podcast with some great humor, greater hijinks, and can I just mention how alluring Corin’s voice is? Just sayin’. The storyline is awesome, too...so many great characters. I want to make Jr. and Malantha next~ I’ll leave some links at the bottom of the post for those who may be interested. Anyway, without further ado, let’s meet the man of the hour, shall we?

~*~*~*~*~*~

Well hello, Corin~.... Now, I may have missed the mark, but I always envisioned Corin having short, trendy hair that still embodied professionalism and and air of slight douchery. I have seen a lot of fanart where Corin has long hair and perhaps that is canonically true. If so, I apologize Corin, please do not send me a pair of exploding sneakers. I may have missed his eye color too, but I went with a very piercing blue-green because that’s just my personal taste and light eyes with dark hair is so badass.

Corin’s traits came pretty natural - evil, confident, and I picked hot-headed because it would best help his in-game aspiration (Criminal Mastermind) moreso than him being hot-headed in the canon. He is actually always as cool as a cucumber. I admire that.

And a little in-game blurb for him because why not? Am a ridiculously enamored fangirl? Maybe. (I spelled his name wrong up top, but I fixed it AFTER I took that and the next cap - whoops)

And just for fun, this personality notice about Corin popped up when I went in to do his photoshoot. I just love it and the look on Corin’s face at the time - Ah, the taste of accuracy.

Now, on to the main event. I’ve always wondered what Corin’s sense of fashion was like, and now having listened to 99% of the podcast (it was so fun to catch up, I’m pretty much stalling on finishing what’s out now because waiting for the next is gonna hurt so bad) I’ve gotten too curious and decided to raid his wardrobe. What’s in there, I wonder??? Let’s find out.

Everyday Wear

Oh of COURSE Corin looks dark and dapper in a suit for everyday. Look at that little splash of color! I bet you used the blood of insubordinate employees to make that tie custom, didn’t you? Magnificent. What else do you slip into on the daily? Maybe when you’re home relaxi-

Oh. Um. Well...You do wear a cowboy hat very well, Corin! I mean...they match the boots and everything! I...I’m sure there are a lot of experimental abominations to wrangle around the office so why not dress the part? Not gonna lie, that shirt looks breezy and comfortable as hell. Maybe take a trip to the mountains with King Leopold sometime? (I...I know what happened in the story, and I refuse to let it go. #OTP.)

Formal Wear

Ah. The natural snazz comes out around the time of the Shareholder’s Ball and the CEO Festival, doesn’t it? You didn’t strike me as the bowtie type of evil CEO but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t look amazing on you. I see you’ve forgone your gloves for formal wear. Hard to eat the deviled eggs and tiny cheeses in those, non?

...This must be the suit you wear to the CEO Festival. That’s really the only explanation as to why it always turns out to be...what it usually becomes. I am going to assume that this suit belonged to Mr. Corin Deeth I and you wear it in his honor. I sure he is looking down on you, pleased but also wondering why you haven’t indulged in what is (still) in the right-side inner pocket.

Athletic Wear

You cannot be a successful CEO of an evil megacorp if you let yourself go. Hence why you slip into nothing but basketball shorts for a long, strenuous...sweaty...satisfying...workout. Between culling unnecessary employees and flawlessly delivering the shareholder announcements, you’re deadlifting 400lbs and making 1st in marathons, aren’t you? Of course you are.

And then there’s jazzercise. Cardio IS important and I mean...just running can be a bit tedious, yeah? You’re so well-rounded, Corin, golly. Honestly, I’m not at all mad at your fashion choice for this one. You don’t have to hide it, we are all friends here. The 80′s were a great time and I am happy you’re keeping the impeccable athletics fashion alive.

Sleepwear

Even mega evil mega CEOs need rest from time to time and nothing beats resting out topless and in trackpants. I see you are wearing ADIDAS, the most evil of brands. Not much else I can say. I am too busy admiring what jazzercise has done for you.

Uh oh. It must be one of those days. Malantha has flustered you again, Dirk is texting for more life advice, and Jr. is sending way too many...um...”special photos” to prove his is thinking hard on how to best contribute to the company. Good thing Brosephus is totally awake at 2am and ready to video chat about all of this. It’s SOOOO LAAAAAAME, right?!

Party Wear

Rollin’ up to the New Year’s Festival feels good, especially when you look this mighty fine. Nothing like finally getting past Yule and Anti-Celebrating by finally cutting loose again and making those ultra evil resolutions. Again with the gloves, I see. Well, I guess better safe than sorry. There’s no tell who’ll feel your wrath after four Blue Motorcycles.

Hm. This is quite the uh...departure, Corin. I mean, nothing ever looks bad on you but where on Earth would you even wear this to? Where would it even work??? ...Oh, right! The Festival of Adorableness! Awkward or not, you’ve made it work. I’m willing to bet the Division of Subversive Cute helped out with this ensemble. Kudos to them! I’m sure burning it afterwards was incredibly satisfying for you.

Swimwear

Why are you looking so bedeviled, Corin? How, when you look that prepared for a pool party, can you possibly be in such a foul mood? Oh...oh wait. Malantha has hidden your sunblock, hasn’t she? Goshdarnit! How can you possibly be evil without being as pale as your skin tone will allow?! That Malantha...she truly is evil, isn’t she?

Welp. I guess if you’re going to get a tan, might as well hit every spot you can. Suck on that, Malantha! (....) Also, breaking out the zebra print speedo wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had, and I both applaud, and ready my binoculars for, you choice of white swimwear. No booty shot? Ugh. Fair enough...gotta leave something to the imagination, I guess. #disappointmentOverdose

Warm Weather Wear

This is the look of a man about to take off on his mega evil yacht and never look back. That shirt, unbuttoned down to where it is suggestive but not desperate, those shorts, defining the thighs while still looking professional, those boat shoes that scream class and bless you for not wearing socks with them. There is a thin line between evil and insane and you ride it perfectly.

Apparently, even evil knows it wouldn’t be summer without an obnoxiously bright Hawaiian shirt. Ain’t even mad. Oooh, and white pinstripe pants....why yes, dear, they do make you look taller and thinner! I can almost hear you now, as you swagger out the front doors, “I’m off to the Maldives, screw y’all! Also, if a single brick is out of place when I get back, I’ll kill you.” You tell ‘em, Corin.

Cold Weather Wear

Brrrrrr. Generally, evil is always cold, dark, and hateful but sometimes even the weather puts up a good fight. Stylish as ever, you have broken out a very elegant scarf and jacket, expertly layered as to properly insulate all of the darkness within. No hat, though? Of course not. Evil does not get that chilly.

Corin: “What you mean I didn’t win the Ugly Sweater Contest?!”

RUN.

~*~*~*~*~

And that concludes are journey through Corin’s wardrobe! This really was a lot of fun to do, and I’d be ever so pleased if the fine people who bring the @kakosindustries universe alive enjoy it too! I’ve also redecorated Corin’s in-game home (the Alto Apartment’s unit that was formally Lobo’s #sorrynotsorry) and I would like to share that one day too, if I get around to doing the photo tour. I will share some links below to a few relevant sites for anyone whose interested in Corin and the Kakos Industries story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Cheers!

~*~*~*~*~

WCIF: Kakos Industries

Kakos Industries Home - where it’s all laid out

Kakos Industries on Tumblr - contains information about episode releases, fan-created content, and other candid goodies

Kakos Industries on TVTropes - [SPOILERS] a nice place to gather info about the series and related tropes therein

And of course you can find Kakos Industries on Facebook, Twitter, and any podcast service worth it’s salt.

[aquasorr]

KLANCE FIC REC PART 2

the HIGHLY requested part two of my klance fic list is here, if you missed part one here is a link: 

A LITTLE DISCLAIMER: i read fics purely bc i am a sucker for some cute ass shit and i love the story telling and some fic writers are actually AMAZING writers so my recommendations are usually story based or AU’s and are suuuuuuuper long with not voltron based plots, that being said i sprinkled some voltron ones in there bc i love my gay space sons ALSO I DO NOT READ WIP FICS SO ALL THESE ARE COMPLETED 

I HAVE SO MANY MORE I WANT TO ADD BUT HONESTLY A PART THREE WILL PROLLY COME OUT SOOON WITH SEASON THREE AROUND THE CORNER

Now are you ready for some gooooood ass shIT

okay so first on the list is a personal favorite of mine, it is SO GOOOOOOOOD PLS READ THIS IF NOTHING ELSE

Title: something just like this By: KlanceKorner 

Description: Keith reluctantly becomes the counselor for the Red Cabin at Camp Voltron, a summer camp in the middle of buttfuck nowhere that his older brother Shiro has worked at for years. Already unhappy with the current position that he is in, Keith prepares himself for a boring, sweaty, miserable summer; and his frustration only grows when he meets the counselor for the Blue Cabin- an insufferable asshole with a horrible sense of humor, a devilish smirk, an inexplicable animosity towards the Red Cabin, and a smile that literally looks like the sun.Needless to say Keith is really, really unprepared for the next three months.

LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10716489

Number two is a youtube three parter so if ur not into that just ignore this link...BUT if your into some good as FLUFF than read this!!! it is so so so cute

there are TWELVE WHOLE INDULGING fics in this series each one is different, ranging from angst, pinning, breakup, holiday, smut, jealous, and LIKE EVERYTHING. it’s just some good ass shit 

the title of the series is: What Happens on Youtube

LINK TO THE WHOLE SERIES: http://archiveofourown.org/series/599386

Number three is a college au and it is so so good, your girl lives for college au’s so if u know any good ones drop them in the notes, but anyways...

this fic is like really reallly long and gOOOOD, it is just some good ass pinning and some smut and bad boy motorcycle Keith and like yeah it is v good

Title: Not That Bad    Author: varelsen

Description: “Am I really going to have to explain this to you?” “No, I’m totally fine with you shutting up right about now.” Hunk cups his hands around his mouth. “You. Are crushing. On Keith.”Or, a college AU featuring coffee shops, silly rivalries, motorcycles, arcade games, friendships, and lots of warm, fluffy feelings that are both confusing and delightful all at the same time.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7685992

Number four on the list, a classic plot but done very well and it is really cute and you will enjoy it bc it is long and angsty w a happy ending and some fun voltron 6/6 character bonding. I WILL SAY I HATE FIRST PERSON FICS AND USUALLY CANNOT READ THEM BUT IF U GET PASSED THE CRINGE ITS A GOOD PLOT

Title: Operation: Time Out        Author: wittyy_name

Description: Just when things between Keith and Lance seemed to be getting better, they took a turn for the worse. With the right side of Voltron constantly butting heads worse than ever before, the team comes up with a plan to get those two to work it out: lock them in the training deck until they learn to play nice.Coran's suggestion? Add the invisible maze to the mix.

LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7821451/chapters/17852119

Number Fiiive is a cute short fluff fic, its very good and cute and nice and short and yes yes yes cUTE ASS SHIT IN THIS ONE

Title: In English, Please        

Description: Lance thinks he can get away with flirting with Keith if it's in Spanish. Lance thinks if he says the words angrily enough no one will catch on to the ruse. Lance thinks his secret crush is safe. Lance, my friends, is very...very wrong.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7407115

Number six is another long fic bc i usually only like to read long fics, this one is very indulging and sucks you the fuck in, it is a little smutty,,,,,,,,,,sorry i warned you, if u get past it the story is heartwarming 

Title: Make Me Your Home      this is a series BTW

Description: “Oh my god, Keeeith,” Lance wheezed. “Keith you’re the best drunk space cadet I’ve ever seen.”“Space cadet,” Keith mumbled. He repeated the words again although his eyes had zeroed in on Lance’s hands and Lance offered no resistance when Keith picked one of them up and pulled it possessively towards his lap. He began to gently trace over Lance’s fingers, sending shivers up Lance’s arm and down his spine. “You have looong fingers,” Keith murmured after a few moments.Keith’s face perked up then, as if he’d just had a brilliant idea, and Lance could almost not wait to hear what new obscure thought had entered Keith’s pretty head. He was prepared to laugh, and instead found himself shivering again as Keith leaned far into his personal bubble, lips practically touching Lance’s ear when he spoke next.“I bet you could reach all kinds of things, Lance.”

LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9623936

Number seven is only bc some of yall asked for it..... here is some smut,, i’m not evening explaining this one but like,,,, they just have fun in the red lion oKAY

Title: what are you willing to do

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7631584

no description needed bc there is no plot

Number eight is a Garrison set little fic bc i usually don’t find many of these,,,,IF U KNOW ANY GOOD ONES LINK THOSE ASWELL PLS

Title: never been kissed

description: “You give off the obnoxious popular vibe. The mullet, and the rap sheet, and—the fingerless gloves,” Lance replies, and barrels on before Keith can take it the wrong way. “I’m so handsome, my name’s Keith and I’m a pilot.”“That sounds more like a compliment than an insult,” Keith says slowly, a disdainful quirk to his eyebrows that only spurs Lance on. He tilts his head a bit, his bangs shadowing his face, like he’s assessing a particularly impossible physics problem. “And I don’t like that voice you’re using.”

LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7282174

NUMBER NINE IS PURE LONG FLUFF!!!!!!!!! YOUR WELCOME

Title: 26 Kisses

Description: Lance lets slip a habit from his past and home or- A silly fluff drabble that turned into a space opera about boys falling in love; space plague, alien planets, and being stranded, Keith and Lance try to make it home

LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7424356

and now i am just going to post some good drabble links, enjoy clicking

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7424356      so why don’t we fall

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7352212       we’ll make it, you and i

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7298179        bench press me

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7331644      An Equitable Compromise

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9447410

      Double-Edged 

and that is alllll folks,,,,happy reading

EDIT I JUST READ THIS ONE AND IT IS REALLY GOOD

IT IS CALLED TRUTH OR DARE HERE IS THE LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10272545/chapters/22751240

okay now i am done

[betta-resplendent]

Warning; Needles, blood. No pics it’s k

i have a super tender bruise on my hand :C

TL;DR: Had MRI. Needed contrast. Was stuck 4 times. Once in the hand. Vein blew. Needed a goddamn ultrasound to the arm to even find a good vein.

Super long post but I tried to make it at least a little humorous for anybody who actually wanted to read it. I kept blood to a minimum. :c

I had to have my MRI rescheduled from Tuesday; I ended up having it on FRIDAY of this week (yesterday), and because I’d already had spine surgery in 2012 they wanted to do contrast. Which means IV.

Now, I don’t know if it’s because of my weight, or I have naturally deep veins, or a combo of both but I have ALWAYS been a hard stick. I usually don’t leave hospitals without at least two bandages where they tried to poke me and failed to get anything. It once took two nurses at a MedPoint to stick me because they can only have 3 attempts before they have to find somebody else to do it. I have scarring on the inside of my left elbow from the amount of times I’ve been poked and prodded. You’d think, after all of this AND two steroid injections in my back (THAT SUCKED OH MY GOD I NEVER WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN), I’d be used to this. However I still have a horrid fear of needles, to the point where usually I have to look away and squeeze something, whether it’s somebody’s hand or the damn chair I’m in (or in this case, the blanket they wrapped around me)

But yesterday was the absolute worst it’s been since the steroid injections. Now, to give the nurses credit they were super nice and clearly felt bad for all the prodding. They kept me calm, even got me multiple warm blankets because between the anxiety and the room being cold AF, I was shaking so bad I could barely speak. I hadn’t slept at all that day, and the appointment was at 8:30. I was exhausted, so I think that amplified the pain by quite a bit. I laid down, the nurse explained what they needed (again), and they started. I gave them a warning that my veins were hard to pin down even with tons of water. I’d even been rubbing the insides of my arm to try and get one to work. The nurse said “Oh that’s alright, we’ll get it.”

Oh boy.

So she wraps the tourniquet on my arm, I pump my fist for a moment and then hold. I’ve done this shit before man. I got dis on lock. She feels around, pressing and rubbing at the skin. Already, she’s getting perplexed. A few soft ‘hrm’s’ here and there as she searched all up and down my arm. I tried to make small talk but I was already trembling like a goddamn baby in a snowstorm, so that wasn’t working out too well. Not to mention I already had the earplugs in so it was hard to hear anything.

She asked about hobbies. I mentioned gardening. She says she has a flowerbed overtaken by weeds. I laughed and said ‘Same.’ We mentioned creeping charlie. I told her about my mint plants. I told her about the dogs. Shit, I even mentioned using fish water for the herbs and talked about Bailey.

Through all of that, she’d gotten increasingly concerned. I think the moment she started smacking at the veins to find something was when she realized ‘this is going to suck’.

She thinks she found one. “Do you want me to warn you?”

“I don’t like surprises when it comes to needles. Yes, please.”

She cleans off the area. She presses again to make absolutely sure she has it. She preps the needle. “Okay, you’ll feel a pinch.”

In it goes. Fucking ow. Anybody who’s had their blood drawn, or gotten an IV, or...dealt with needles at all really (no judgement <3) knows that when you or somebody else misses the fucking vein and start to dig for it, it is the weirdest feeling in the fucking world and it hurts. It starts small, sort of uncomfortable, after the initial stick. The longer it goes, the more it grows. It radiates almost like an itch through the arm. I felt it down in my goddamn fingers at one point because I’m too much of a coward to say ‘enough, try somewhere else’. This goes on for what seems like five minutes (tho i’m sure it was only like, one or two at MOST, probably not even that), before she sighs, “Well, I can’t seem to find it.”

“That’s okay.” She pulls out the needle, wipes away any blood, keeps searching. Keep in mind, I refuse to move my head to look at anything she’s doing. By now another nurse came out and brought a heated blanket to me to help stop the shaking. It helps a little, enough to let them work.

Nurse count: two.

She searches around my elbow. I visibly tense up when she starts searching my hand. I’ve gotten my blood drawn from the hand before and lemme tell you that shit hurts. A friend of mine claims that hurts less than the elbow and man do I envy that because that is not the case for me at all.

I think she noticed it, because she didn’t dwell long on the hand before moving on to my left arm.

Tally: Right arm, 1 attempt.

She starts the process again on my left arm. Prodding at the skin, rubbing, turns into slapping at different points hoping for something to come up. I’m now looking to my right, staring at my glasses and the locker key containing my bag and my cane. I counted the damn cabinets, tried to guess what was inside. Anything to keep my mind off of it.

She’s reaching back onto the little caddy she’s got with all the supplies. I prepare myself for another stick. She cleans, she pokes some more, slaps again, cleans one more time.

“Okay. A pinch.”

Here we go again. She misses. More digging. I’m staring up at the ceiling at a dim, horizontal (vertical, from my position, perpendicular to me) image of a sky. I’m assuming that if I’d been put into the machine feet first, perhaps the image would have been turned on to give me something to look at. Maybe it would have moved? I’ll never know. I don’t even know if my head would stick out of the machine. I didn’t even know you could go feet-first. That was news to me. 

She digs for another minute. My fingers start to hurt. That weird radiating numb-pain is going to my shoulder and fingers from the crook of my elbow and god damn I wish it would stop. She lets out another sigh, shakes her head. “Okay. Well. We’re just gonna go ahead and do the first set of images, and we’ll pull you out, try again, and do the last 3 with contrast.”

“okiedokie”

In I went. They were nice enough to provide a cloth to cover my eyes, the ‘emergency escape ball’, as I call it, and put me in. I stayed as still as possible. I shit you not, I was more relaxed in that loud ass machine than I was outside of it. It was also so warm in there omg. I fell asleep in the damn thing. Granted it was more of a cat-nap that I woke myself up from by grunting (whoops), but it’s still astounding I managed to sleep while the machine was screaming at me and taking pictures. 

After the last picture of the first round was done they pulled me out. The two nurses and another nurse was there to prep me for another run to poke at me. I felt like a science experiment. 

Nurse count: Three.

They spoke pretty quietly. I don’t know what they said really. Their tone was more confused or concerned than anything. With the ear plugs I couldn’t really hear them and you can bet your ass I wasn’t gonna look at ‘em either. They tried my right arm again, poking at it. They could find nothing. The first nurse asked, “Has anybody gotten you here before?” while running her fingers over my elbow. I told her no, not to my knowledge, as a bit of a joke. I don’t think it was appreciated but she gave me a polite chuckle anyway. The heat from the blanket was gone so I was back to trembling  again. The third nurse left, came back with a second blanket, and layered it underneath the first to keep in heat. Thank the Gods for nurses.

The first nurse moved to my left arm again, poked some more. She pressed against the spot she’d gotten previously and sighed, “You’ve definitely got some scarring there.”

“Yeah? I’m not surprised.” Only I was shaking so it was more like ‘Y-yeah? m’n-not s-s-surprised’. Fuck, I felt dumb.

She keeps looking. Eventually she focuses on the hand. Ah, shit. I tensed up again and she says, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do what you gotta do.” Because who am I to argue with a nurse? At this point I just wanna fuckin go home and sleep. And eat because man I hadn’t eaten for ~24 hours and i was hungry af. 

She pokes at the hand, finds one. Slaps at it a little, pokes it again, nods. All three nurses are around me, one next to the nurse poking at me, and the other watching from the far end by the window in case assistance was needed. The humming from the machine was getting obnoxious, the lights were too bright, I was too tired and I just wanted to go. 

“Warning?”

“Yes please.”

She preps the needle. I try to relax, stare back up at the ceiling again. The cloud looks like a bunny. 

“Okay. Pinch.” 

Oh. My. God.

I could have started crying. Well, I did, but not much. The pain was immediate and instead of dulling for a few before radiating it started at 10 and just went from there. She dug for a few minutes, inhaled sharply. Exhaled just as sharply. 

“Well,” and I looked at her, focused on her face instead of her hands. “I found one.”

“Yeah?”

“It blew.”

Fuck me running. All I could manage was “well that’s unfortunate” because oh my god what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Tbh it didn’t really hurt, though now I’m wondering if the pain was that bad because it blew or if the vein deciding ‘fuck it’ and going out like an abandoned mine shaft was really painless. It was at this point that the third nurse left the room. 

Nurse count: Two. The second nurse left. 

Nurse count: one.

She stepped back from me and apologized. I, of course, said it wasn’t a big deal. I mean jesus, I did warn you, I kind of expect some difficulty but jesus christ not this much. A few more minutes pass. The two nurses that left return, followed by another nurse, somebody that puts IV’s in frequently. 

Nurse count: Four.

So, now it’s his turn. He starts poking, prodding, rubbing, tapping. His hands are far rougher but he’s nice enough, I figure he’s gotta be kinda rough with it if he has any hope of fuckin’ finding anything in the Girl Who Had No Veins. 

He lets out a sigh and another ‘hrm’. I smile a bit weakly, “how long do i got” which earns a couple wry laughs. That’s all I got at this point, don’t judge me. 

They step away to talk for a few minutes. I’m back staring up at the ceiling. The other cloud looks like a fucked up potato with a stick attached to it. 

The first nurse comes back. “He’s going to prep an ultrasound to see if we can’t find something.”

Oh my god. This is new. A goddamn ultrasound. Tf. Again, I can’t argue I’m in a damn flat ‘bed’ attached to a giant machine and walk with a cane. I have no leverage and no escape.

They detach me from the machine and roll me into the room on the other side of the machine. It’s dark as hell, but that’s okay. Several people are in the room and start standing around me to watch and/or assist.

Nurse count: Fucking six. Why are there so many people back there is that normal or did I become a sideshow somehow?

He gets the machine prepped, uses that nasty gel stuff, and starts pushing against my arm. It takes maybe two minutes to finally find one he’s satisfied with. He presses his goddamn nail against the area for a solid 30 seconds while the other nurses get the saline and contrast fluid. I looked up at him like ‘tf?’ and he just gave a weak smile, “Marking it so we don’t lose it again.”

Fffffair enough. Mark away.

The nurses get back, he does the injection, they push through the saline, then the contrast. “You’ll taste or smell something funky.”

Gross. They were right and I hate it. I don’t even know how to describe it. 

The contrast was put in, she told me it would feel ‘cool in temperature’ which...it really didn’t. I didn’t feel a damn thing. They finished that up, I was wheeled back into the room with the machine, realigned, and we finished the last 3 pictures. They removed the IV when I got out, and I swear I could not have hobbled out of there fast enough. I bought a sandwich at the hospital cafe and ate it the moment we got home, chatted with my girlfriend a bit, and went tf to sleep.

I dislike hospitals. Greatly. I don’t blame anybody really, it was all one big clusterfuck and they were nice, but damn.

/story.

[beautiful-bau-beau]

The Proposal Part 7

The Proposal Masterlist

(HAPPY 37TH BIRTHDAY TO THE GUBE OMG I LOVE HIM AND THANK GOD FOR HIM AND CRIMINAL MINDS EVERYDAY. I was rushing to post this so it might be terrible)

Contains: Angst

(only 2 more parts- technically 1 if you don't count the epilogue)

@sonnyalice: SPENCER WHAT THE HELL CASH ME THE FUCK OUTSIDE HOWBOW DAT

Anonymous: I AM SHOOK ABOUT PT 6 PLEASE RESOLVE THIS IM YELLING

Anonymous: Holy heck! Spencer no!!!! Gosh we need part 7 of the proposal asap!

-

Awkward was one way to put your relationship with Spencer. Other words to fill that category was weird, lonely and depressing. You longed for him to just talked to you or...something.

Spencer was barely acknowledging your presence, and you were lucky that he was even sticking around. Why? You weren't really sure. Maybe he was still guilty about your father.

It seemed his presence was hurting you more then helping you. Your heart ached every time he walked past you, heart still fluttering whenever he accidentally touched you. At least at work he was behind the doors and you could serve without worrying that you were going to bump into him.

Your lovesick disease only seemed to get worse when Spencer announced he was going to be spending nights with /her/ and sneaking in early in case your mother came back around. Apparently you repulsed him to the core so much that he couldn't even sleep in the same area as you.

At the moment, you were staring out the window of the living room, hating yourself. More so for the fact that you looked like Bella Swan from the second twilight movie. Well, it was a close second.

"Why are you moping about? Haven't you heard I'm back?" A familiar voice made you jump, wrapping your arms around your sister's frame. "That's more like it Y/n!" She laughed, her arms sliding around to meet your back.

"I totally forgot that you were coming back this week!  I've just had so much on my mind lately!" You tried explaining.

"I bet! Wedding aren't easy to plan you know! Take it from me, I just had one... So, how are you and your fiancée?" She made her way through the house, seeming to inspect it for something.

"Uh, yeah, about that..." You started, trying to figure out how to tell her about everything without seeming like a jerk that was lying to your father and stealing your sisters spotlight.

"Let's not talk about this in here, c'mon, let's do something fun....like shopping, or drinking." She waggled her brows, shooing you to grab your purse. You forgot how eccentric your sister was. You weren't sure how much you missed that certain feature.

After what your sister like to call "Treat yourself- bride edition", she made you wear one of the outfits out of the store and wear it out. You had no idea what game she was trying to play, but you knew she was up to something. Especially when she brought you to a bar. Sure, she enjoyed a glass of wine every now and then but had said multiple times that he was not an avid enthusiast for bars. More so now then ever because she was married and guys would be trying to hit on her all night.

"Alright, answer some of my questions. How is Spencer? How are you?" She asked when the both of you were situated with your drinks. You spun your stirrer straw slowly, stumbling around on trying to form a sentence.

"Do you remember Mattie Noel?" You asked, and she nodded, eyes squinting with suspicion. "She's…tried latching her hooks onto him." You put it out there as best as you could, watching as she moved her hand in a dismissive way. "Spencer only has eyes for you, trust me. Don’t worry about that bitch." You almost laughed at how ironic that sentence was, taking a large gulp of your drink. After some more minutes of conversation, someone's phone started to ring loudly.

"Oh shoot, I think that's me." Your sister set her drink down, digging through her purse, stopping and wincing. "Y/n, I think I left my phone at your house when I came to pick you up!" Your sister slapped her face, zipping back up her purse. "What if it's (h/h/n)? It's it okay if we head back to the guest house?"

"Oh yeah, of course." You placed done your drink, standing up and pretending to dust yourself off. You weren't really feeling the scene anyways, bars never really being your thing.

The drive was filled with your sister filling you in on her honeymoon, literally, /everything// about her honeymoon, talking about future plans and trying to ask about you and Spencer. You tried avoiding most of the questions, and it seemed to work.

"Alright, let's go." You stated once you pulled up to the driveway in front of the guest house. You thought you saw a light turn off and you shook your head, thinking you must be finally losing it.

"Um. I'm not exactly sure where you left it but feel free to- AH!" You fell back into the wall as you opened the door and flipped the light switch only to be met with about 15 pairs of eyes. "What the- W-what the..." Your own orbs were wide and brows furrowed. Your sister laughed, patting your shoulder reassuringly.

"Surprise! It's your bridal shower!" She bounced excitedly, leading you over to a chair. You started to recognize your friends from back home, your mother, your sister and a few friends from the restaurant.

"This really wasn't necessary..." You mumbled, stumbling a bit. "Really. I don't deserve your gifts." You waved your friends off, cheeks pinking. If they only knew how much you really didn't deserve this.

"Here, open mine first!" Your sister thrusted a bright pink box into your lap, and you almost rolled your eyes at the obnoxious color but opened it nonetheless. Through the hours, you opened all the gifts (some more appropriate then others), drank some wine, and failed to notice your mother's quietness.

"There's still one more gift! It's from mom!" Your sister cried, bringing out the last wrapped box. Your mother's face seemed to pale and she opened her mouth to say something when your sister interrupted her. "I saw it hidden in the closet and figured you must have forgot about where you put it. It was no problem really. Now, c'mon y/n, open it up."

After taking off the bright paper and the Macy's box that your mother used for every holiday box, you were met with a book, a picture of Spencer on one knee at your sister's wedding, when you forced him to propose to you on the top. "What's this?" You softly asked, fingers rubbing Spencer's frame over the plastic covering.

"It's not that big of a deal, I was just digging through the basement and some old pictures came up. Add those with the ones I've been taking of the two of you and...." Her sentence faded out as you started flipping through the pages.

Pictures of you and Spencer as toddlers, chubby limbs wrapped up in each other. As little kids, reading or "cooking". Spencer trying to teach you how to play chess when you were 12, always losing because you believed the pawns were more important then any other piece. Rare visits to Caltech when you were both 14, both awkward and gangly. Pictures of you at Spencer's graduation and vice-versa. The pictures didn't pick back up until the wedding, a few candid shots, pictures of you both working at the restaurant and sitting on the couch when you were watching Star Wars. Lastly, the proposal once more, zoomed in on both your faces. Even though you had just shoved him on the ground exactly 2 seconds earlier, Spencer looked focused, and your fake smile looked genuine.

"I cant do this anymore." You whispered, shocking yourself when a tear landed on the scrapbook page. "I'm so sorry. You guys..." You got up, rushing out of the room, the cold air kissing your face once you escaped through the front door.

"Hon! Honey! Come back!" Your mother called after you, following you outside. "Y/n, baby, I know." You looked up at her, tears pricking the edge of your eyes.

"You know? You know that this whole thing was fake?" You asked, throwing up your arms in the air. If your mother could see it, then everyone else probably knew too. God, this whole thing was so stupid. Why did the idea even pop into her head?

"I saw him making out with another girl while I was trying to book a wedding venue." Your mom explained, hand coming up to cup your cheek. Your own hand came to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"No mom, I have to be honest with you, this whole marriage was a sham. I forced Spencer to propose to me." She stepped back, head cocking to the side and brows raising. "Dad said he wished he could have two daughters married...." You explained, and your mother seemed to understand.

"Darling, he didn't mean it in this way.." She engulfed you in a hug, kissing the top of your head. "You're still in love with him aren't you? You have been since before you knew what love was." She asked and you nodded, cries beginning, thankful that they were slightly muffled.

"It's okay honey, let it all out."

-

(3rd Person POV)

Overtime, your comments really started to bug Spencer. Your tone, your bitter words, kept repeating in his mind and for the millionth time he wished that he didn't have an eidetic memory. He couldn’t believe you had spoken to him that way. You had never expressed that type of rage before.

He had known you for practically his entire life and you had never steered him wrong, always being the person to try and draw him out of his shell. Always his defender, his best friend until you two had started drifting apart after you graduated and he joined the FBI. Even then, you would try to call once every month, trying to keep updated with him, his life, job, mother, etc.

Spencer usually had a good intuition about people, and Mattie seemed lovely enough, so why would Y/n tell him all those awful things about the woman he had start to care for?

"You know, Y/n told me that you used to know each other in high school. What was that like? Were you guys friends?" He tried to subtly press the subject. Mattie laughed, taking a sip of her drink and leaning her head on her hand, eyes slightly glossing over in a nostalgic manner.

"Well, I used to pick on her." She shrugged, taking a bite of her food like what she had just said was nothing. "I mean, she deserved right?" Spencer was in the middle of picking up his glass to take a sip when he stopped at her remark.

"What do you mean by that?" Mattie seemed confused that she was even asked a question like that but out of the corner of her mind, she remembered that someone like him didn't attend their high school.

"She was like a blister, ugly to look at, you know. She always had to let everyone know how she was smarter then everyone else. She didn't let me cheat or anything and... well, just annoying really. She hasn't changed much since high school." Spencer seemed to stare at her for what felt like an eternity.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah." Mattie's brows raised. "I mean, you've known her for a little while right? Isn’t she just…annoying? I mean, she asked you to marry her because she's too pathetic to find herself an actual fiancé." Spencer couldn’t believe the words he was hearing, and had to stop his jaw from dropping. It all made sense now, everything you said!

"Oh my- I actually defended you against her! I'm so stupid, I should have known Y/n would never lie to me! She never has before!" Spencer stood up, running his hands over his face angrily. "You…I can't even come up with any words to describe a snake like you!" He stormed off, already trying to work on how to fix everything he did.

"Does this mean we’re breaking up?" She screeched, and Spencer ignored her, running outside to hail a cab. He quickly dialed your number and the call ended up going straight to voicemail. A second and third time, voicemail. Either something was wrong or you were still pissed off. Yo had every right to be. Oh god, why didn’t he listen to you?!

After yelling your address to the cab driver, he dialed Morgan, quickly explaining everything that had developed recently. Being Spencer's friend, Morgan tried not to judge too harshly, but couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that escaped his mouth as he said, "Sounds like she's in love with you, you idiot. You don't even have to be a profiler to figure that one out buddy."

"Well- I- I- Uh-" Spencer stumbled a bit, his brain fried. "Spencer,' his friend scolded through the phone speaker. How do you feel about Y/n?" Morgan was met with silence and he sighed. "What I mean is…. can you be yourself around Y/n? Do you think about her when she isn’t in the room? How would you feel if she had asked someone else to be in your shoes hm?" Spencer stayed quiet for another moment.

If I'm honest, I'm more comfortable with her then anyone, even you guys. I think about her a lot, although recent thoughts weren't exactly….romantic. If she had asked someone else,' Spencer whistled lowly. "I wouldn’t have…I… I don’t like that question. She asked me, that's that." He answered, brows furrowing when he heard his friends laughter on the other end of the line.

"Then she's the one. Simple as that. "

"I…have to go. I'll talk to you later." He hung up when he saw your house approaching in the window of the cab, exiting the vehicle and throwing a random wad of cash at the driver, bolting for the guest house. He fumbled with the keys before finally opening the door.

"Y/n! Y/n!" He yelled throughout the guest house, realizing you were gone. He ran over to the main house, which was locked, and looked through all the windows like a mad man. He dialed your number 2 more times and grunted loudly when your automated voice message met his ears instead of your voice. His phone rang just before he was able to dial your number again, and he immediately answered it. "Y/n?"

"Her mother." An unamused voice greeted his ears. "Listen, before you say another word, Y/n's father is at the hospital, not that you seem to care. Hopefully I haven’t interrupted your making out sessions hm? Anyways, just figured I'd let you know since you seemed so eager to be a part of this family…" Your mother snapped, hanging up.

The hospital?

"Oh no.." He mumbled dialing for a cab, only thinking of you.

@crowleyshellhoundproductions  @xinhaleredveinsx @clairese1980 @nerdaspe @valynsia