#Anyway men's shoes are nicer and more comfortable

[wandeel]

Same energy

[tiffcore]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀belle reve!

twenty - two. nothing but a bully. campy little girl who likes to be mean to chicks with fat enough tits.

belle ultimately peaked in high school. her 'friend group' which really wasn't a friend group, just people who could stand within 5 feet of one another and resist the urge to talk shit, consisted of upperclassmen and one freshman who was too pussy to say anything but "Yes, Belle" and "Yes please, Belle." she really liked it like that.

a little delusional of her to think that it'd stay like that forever though! but it's par for the course that the little cunty blonde thinks the world revolves around her. in desperate need of a reality check, belle is, though she doesn't really get it until she realizes she doesn't even have enough credits to apply to college! she ought to have threatened more people to do her homework ...

oh well, she was never one for school anyway. college was just chock full of gross, sweaty dudes. men are only good for lining your pockets, and even then - their attitude is hardly ever worth it.

so she applies to the first job she sees where the staff is all female. not just any random women either - buxom and cute, shy and not too headstrong...

and imagine her surprise when her next assignment is with tiffany! who's all smiles, just like she was when belle was pulling her hair and trying to squish her tits. belle isn't any nicer, talks hot shit like she's not flipping burgers like the rest of them. tiff smiles at her and it still pisses her off.

she listens to her music though. abides by it like it's scripture, was the first person to buy the merch when it dropped - tacks it to her wall because she can't be caught dead being a fan of anything but herself. sometimes she wishes she wasn't so ... stuck up, but it's far easier to be hostile than to tell a pretty girl you like her...

childhood?

belle wasn't fortunate enough to have parents that wanted her.

Which is tough for her I guess 🤷, so she funnels all the rage in her tiny, haughty body outward, cause she'd burst a vein and bleed out otherwise.

Belle has never been nice. Not even for a second. When she was a baby she would tear rubber nipples to shreds (because nobodies putting el diablo's face near their funbags, no way) and tied the necks of her stuffies with shoe lace string so she could get good flicking and whipping action. Belle wasn't really eccentric, but moreso chaotic and creative in her menacing.

She's a sharp tool and definitely stabs. But she's always had a soft spot for pretty girls.

Never outwardly of course, but in the recesses of her mind, she's always had this little dream ... A budding desire to have a girlfriend of her own. Ugly boys with their snot noses and stupid fucking faces didn't deserve the attention of such cute things!

But she never did find it in herself to be kind to anyone. She's brash, crass, and wanted things her way more than anybody else.

She used to know this one girl, though. That she liked more than giving losers swirlies, more than cutting braids with safety scissors, more than telling boys they have puke breath and kicking them in their balls,

A pretty girl. With those starry eyes and sanrio backpack and so... Sickeningly cutesy. With her kitty tights and too bright expectations of what to get out of life.

Belle would swear up and down she hated her. Would hide all the drawings in the back of her notebook of the two of them together, hugging and playing...

But would work over time to make her life a living hell. Knocking her books to the floor, stealing her comfort plushies, ripping the head off of one just to see what she looks like when she cries.

Eventually, the girl ended up switching schools!

Belle never really recovered from that loss...

But she eventually got lucky.

Now she sees that girl almost every day.

her?

Belle is so prickly she could be part cactus. A short girl, barely past 5'0 and a total Chihuahua. Short and menacing, Belle does have some fighting skill, but not a tough enough physique to hold her head above water in a real fight. She's picky about women, very critical of bodies and has no problem being inappropriate with others, discussing things sexual ad nauseum, regardless if it makes others in the room uncomfortable.

She's skinny and boxy. Her face card is immaculate, but her body is on the flat side, especially for a girl who has soooo much to say about what tits are a good size and whether or not a girl's ass is fat enough for her. Belle is so size queen. She likes girls bigger and badder than her, with a cutesy demeanor and a fluffy little face like ...

Well, it's incredibly obvious she has a type.

ships?

obsessed with Tiffany, likes Pearl a lot too, but is just insufferable cunt.

dol - whitney tries to slut her out (mission semi successful)

kylar is sooo happy she's smaller than him ❤️

robin's pretty spooked by her, she has fun making fun of his baby dick.

tokyo revengers - in tr au, she's apart of toman. she doesn't like to talk about her intiation, so don't ask.

[urimaginespimp]

A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas.

Bucky x Reader with fever.

Thank you @daredarling for the “you’ve gotten sick and Bucky takes care of you” idea.

——–

You should’ve known better than to race Sam under a thunderstorm last night. Waking up the next morning, you had a massive headache, your muscles felt sore, and you were shivering.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Barnes says you’re half an hour late in training.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke, making you groan and bring your comforters above you.

“Tell him to fuck off.” you muffled under the sheets.

Barnes… He has been nothing but a pain in the ass to you. To this day, you don’t know what you’ve done for him to dislike you this much. And as if his snarky comments and glares thrown your way wasn’t enough, Steve actually paired you both for missions and trainings.

If he wasn’t so handsome you would’ve cut him already. If Steve allowed you.

Loud bangs hit your door outside. “Y/L/N you’re already 30 minutes late! That’s 5 laps extra for you!” You could hear the irritation lacing his voice.

Maybe if you ignore him long enough, the pest would go away.

“I know you’re in there!” He followed up after you ignored him.

Sighing in annoyance, you got up, with the blankets still wrapped around you, and weakly waddled your way to your door, not bothering to open up your curtains. Opening the door, A frowning Bucky was looking down on you. If you weren’t feeling so shitty, you would’ve snickered at his expression.

“Barnes why are you so obsessed with me?” your cracked voice barely managed to finish asking.

He was observing you from head to toe, noting how pale you are, and shivering under a huge comforter despite that your AC was off.

“You’re stupid.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’re not that sma-”

“Will you shut up and go back to bed? You look like you’re about to drop dead any second now.” He interrupted you, his face still stern with no emotion.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back and weakly made your way back over to bed, pausing to groan as you remembered you forgot to close the door.

“If you’re still there, could you please close the door.” it almost pained you to even be so polite to him but you blame it to being sick.

Finally managing to lie back down, you stared up the ceiling when you heard the door finally shut gently. Sighing, you were about to let sleep take over you when something caught the corner of your eye.

Bucky was by the closed door, taking his shirt off over his head. You let out a shriek. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”

“You’re sick.” he replied nonchalantly, while kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his sweatpants and socks.

“And taking off your clothes is supposed to make me feel better?!” you were trying to support yourself with your elbow, facing his way. “And I meant that you close the door before leaving.”

“I don’t want to die of heat while taking care of you.” he replied in a duh tone before entering your bathroom to fetch some warm water in a basin.

You were still trying to process what he was getting at when he finally went back out, now basin with steaming water in hand.

“You got a clean towelette I can use?” has asked as he placed the basin on the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, it’s by the third dra- what the hell are you doing again?” you caught yourself as he was opening your drawers. “Because if you’re trying to kill me, doing it while I’m defenseless is just beneath you.”

“Didn’t think your IQ could get any lower but you’re sick so I’ll let this pass.” He rolled his eyes before soaking the cloth on the water. “I’m nursing you. Now lay flat and still so the cloth won’t fall off that forehead of yours.” he instructed, again sounding so casual.

You followed his orders before realizing that this whole ordeal was still very weird. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

He went by your head and placed the cloth on your forehead, making you sigh at the warmth it brought your chilling form. “Steve will have my head if he finds out I knew you’re sick and let you die.”

You stared at him deadpan.

“And partners are supposed to be taking care of each other.” he muttered, making the side of your mouth twitch.

“If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.” he lightly threatened when he noticed your mouth twitch.

“Fair enough. And I should probably tell you that I’m prone to get mentally confused when I have fevers which is a normal symptom, but just letting you know in case I start saying something nice.” you chuckled.

He went over your mini fridge and opened a bottle of water to drink.

You look at him, noticing that he was starting to sweat a lot from the heat. His skin was glistening making you mentally kick yourself from staring.

“You got underwear?” you found yourself asking, making him choke on his drink.

“What?”

“I-I’m just saying i-if you’re that hot, you can just take off your sweatpants and I won’t mind.”

“You’re saying I’m hot?” he chuckled, having fun twisting your words, making you flush. “Hey, color’s back on your face. Maybe I should get you all flustered more.” he teased further.

“Shut up Barnes, I meant that the room’s too hot for you because the AC is off. You’re sweating like a pig.”

“Save the excuses, Y/N. You won’t mind if I’ll just be in my boxers?” he smirked at you as he took his socks off and started working on untying the strings of his sweats.

“Puh-lease, Barnes, it may come as a shock to you, but I’ve seen enough men in boxers. You’re not that…”

You trailed off what you were going to say when you noticed that this was a different kind of boxers. Why were they so tight?

You thought he meant boxer shorts, not boxer briefs. Dammit.

“I’m not that…?” He asked.

“I forgot. Fever brain.” You shrugged, diverting your eyes away from him. “Anyway, why are you so nice to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” He contradicts, placing his hands on his hips.

“Uh, yeah you do.” you paused to let out a cough. “You always make fun of me or provoke me in front of everyone else.”

“And how do I treat you when we’re alone, especially in missions?” he raised his brows at you, expecting that you’ll put two and two together.

“A lot nicer actually.” You muttered.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that the team keeps insisting I have a crush on you.” he scratched the back of his head.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would they even think that?” you chuckled.

“It’s Sam’s fault. He tricked me.”

“What?”

“He was being all hypothetical, saying what if I was only allowed to date someone from the team and who would I choose. And I uh… may have said I’d choose you. And everyone else heard.” He muttered the last part, embarrassed.

It was your turn to smirk at him. “And why me?”

“Stop that. You look like a smirking corpse.” he snapped at you defensively and cleared his throat. “It’s just that you were actually really nice to me when we met. Didn’t feel like you were masking apprehensiveness like everybody did when I first got here.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” you had the courage to tease him, seeing how flustered he got from telling the story.

“This is not how you treat your nurse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, a nurse in his underwear. Very ethical. And I’m not your supervisor, but I think brooding is not advisable.”

“And now as your nurse, I would advise you to quit talking and get some sleep.”  he playfully glared at you. “I’ll be by the chair to constantly check on your temperature and replace the cloth on your forehead.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Barnes. I’m starting to think the team’s right.”

“Ma’am flirting with patients and vice versa is frowned upon. Now sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

——–

While you were finally snoozing for over an hour, gentle knocks were heard on your door.

Standing up from his chair, Bucky quickly made his way over the door to prevent more knocks from disturbing your sleep, forgetting that he was still only in his boxer briefs.

Opening it slowly, he was met with three pairs of wide eyes belonging to Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Hey you guys, could you keep it down? Y/N is getting some rest.”

“Uhuh… I bet she needs it.” Sam replied slowly, still wide-eyed, noting how Bucky’s slightly sweaty.

“So… when did this happen?” It was Steve’s turn to speak up.

“Oh, just this morning. She was running late and I came here with the intention of punishing her for it but I ended up taking care of her.” He explained in a low voice, still oblivious to how their teammates were getting a totally different idea.

“Woah.” Nat muttered under her breath.

“Yeah, I guess her muscles are all sore because she was moving so weakly, and her voice is all hoarse now when she talks, and -”

“Look we’re happy for you, but TMI, Buck! TMI.” Steve cut him off and the three of them scrambled away from your room, with Sam muttering he didn’t need the unwelcomed visuals, and Nat screaming for Wanda.

Now left alone and confused by the doorway, he was trying to figure out why they reacted that way when it finally clicked.

“Fuck.” he whisper-yelled, knowing that the teasing was about to get worse.

——–

Final Part

Permanent tag list: @lizzarooni

Marvel Masterlist

[sslow-dancer]

A/N: In celebration of the Stone Ocean Confirmation this past Sunday, have you a sweet Jolyne one-shot 🦋💚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I Feel Comfortable With You Too.” (Jolyne Cujoh x Reader)

Warnings: brief mentions of suicide and homicide, rape and self-blame

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jolyne cujoh x reader, slight angst, sfw, comfort

Description: You become cellmates with the new girl in Green Dolphin, Jolyne Cujoh. As one of you can’t fall asleep at night, you both decide to speak about your personal lives and further discuss your convictions.

(NOTE: Though prisons in the US are assigned to keep the sexes separated, this one-shot can easily be read by anyone who is not/does not identify as a woman.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“FE40332, you got a new roomie! Get along, alright?” one of the main guards says to you, he turns to murmur with the person next to him.

You’re quick to sit up when the guard opens your cell, both people now in full view. You meet eyes with a girl, a rather beautiful one around your age with green and black hair. You notice her choice of hairstyle, you smirk

“Nice hair.” you compliment. The girl shrugs off the guard as he closes the cell. She looks back at you, a spare change of clothes in her hands,

“Uh..thanks.” she replies shyly. She seemed nervous, though that didn’t bother you. You nod, getting up to shake her hand. She hesitates before shaking yours, you smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m no person to be scared of.”

“Yeah, I know. You give off the vibe that you’re nicer than the people I’ve already met...”

You laugh at this, telling her your name after. You ask for hers,

“Oh, right! I’m Jolyne. I’m usually one to say my name first but with the new setting.. I guess I forgot.”

“It’s alright, I totally get you. By the way,” you point at the top bunk “you don’t mind sleeping there, right? I’ve been bottom bunk for the last 2 years I’ve been here; I’m not one for top bunk, believe me, I’ve tried.”

She nods, placing her clothes on the top bunk. She takes off her shoes and climbs up to the top, sighing as she lays down. You furrow your eyebrows,

“You tired? Have you not had food or a drink yet?”

“Yeah no...I don’t really have an appetite at the moment. I just want to rest is all...”

“Understandable. I was the same when I arrived here..well, I’ll be reading for a bit. Let me know if you ever wanna talk, okay?”

Jolyne hums, closing her eyes. ‘They’re really sweet...’ Jolyne thinks, ‘They’re like a breath of fresh air...’

~ Time Skip ~

It’s past midnight now, 3:30AM to be exact. Though both you and Jolyne weren’t exactly aware due to no clock being in your presence. You sigh, as you go to fall asleep after reading a really interesting novel. Your attempt to fall asleep is then interrupted when you hear a quiet whisper from Jolyne,

“Hey uh.. you still awake?”

“Well I was about to sleep but yeah, I’m still awake. What, do you want to speak to me?”

Jolyne exhales sharply, nodding as she replies “yes...if you don’t mind though, you can sleep if you really want to.” You shake your head,

“Oh no no, it’s okay. I’ll listen, I like hearing others talk. You want me to come up there?”

“No it’s okay, I’ll meet you down there.” she quietly hops off her bunk, you sit up yawning as she places herself next to your bed. She sits on her knees, her hands fidgeting with your bedsheets. You turn your attention over to her attire. She only had a skirt and short top on. You blush as you tell her,

“You look really beautiful...”

It’s Jolyne’s turn to blush, she giggles softly, “I- thank you. Since it’s nighttime, I decided to change my outfit when you left to get a new book...”

“I see... so, what is it you wanted to talk about?” You ask curiously, she purses her lips sighing,

“Well ya know, nothing specific really. I just wanted to talk to you ‘cause you seem cool and have been really one of the only persons who hasn’t been an asshole to me.”

“Persons?” Is there more than one person in here that’s actually been nice to you besides me?”

“Yeah, a girl named Hermès. Though I haven’t seen her in a while sadly.. I’m guessing her cell is far from ours.”

You nod, grateful that she has met at least one other person that treats her with basic humane respect. You nudge at your mattress, enjoying the faint artificial lighting from outside your cell. Jolyne speaks up,

“If you don’t mind me asking...why are you in here anyway? Like I said earlier, you honestly don’t seem like someone who would be in a place like this.”

You shrug, “It’s alright. Though I will say, be careful about asking people what they’re in here for, some people can be huge asses about it. You’ll probably hear a guard in here say that it doesn’t really matter in a prison like this but trust me, you can never be too cautious.”

She nods, swallowing as she thinks she had made a mistake of asking. You frown,

“But don’t worry, you’d didn’t offend me. Since you trust me, I think I’m obligated to give that trust back. So, I’ll tell you.” You scoot closer to her, your faces inches away as you keep your voice lower than before,

“I killed a gang of men. A bunch of bastard rapists. I feel no guilt whatsoever. They hurt a close friend of mine-“ you hesitate, backing up from her whilst turning your gaze towards the wall, “-though in a way, I feel terrible because that friend of mine will never get closure...they committed suicide a bit after what happened to them. Not to mention, I threw away whole career opportunities and reputation just because my anger got the best of me... Oh and my parents? Though they say they’re not angry with me.. they’re definitely disappointed. It’s so obvious whenever they visit me, it’s clear guilt.”

Jolyne’s expression quickly saddens, her sympathy taking over as she offers to hold your hands, you frown as you accept it, holding hers tightly. Her eyes squint with sadness as she tells you,

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that...I couldn’t imagine.”

“Like I said, it’s alright. I accepted my fate the moment I committed the crime and accepted it again when I got my hearing in court.”

She nods, looking down at both of your hands as she takes in your information. She gently lets go, resting her back against the wall next to your bunk. She exhales loudly, stretching her arms as a way to shake off the melancholy in the room. You look at her with curiosity,

“So now that I’ve told you my story...mind telling me yours?”

“Sure...yeah.”

Jolyne clears her throat, her eyes and body facing the cell door. She begins her story,

“So, basically... I’ve been in trouble before. I was in a motorcycle gang and had got arrested for theft when I was in my early teens but for what I’m in now...I had a boyfriend. He was pretty much the stereotypical delinquent who relied on daddy’s money and got whatever he wanted.” she snickers, “you could say I was in love with him... aside from my mom I let him call me “Jojo” as I never liked anyone else calling me that but he uh.. betrayed me. That’s a way to put it, I guess.”

She looks at you for a bit, you nod as a way for her to go on,

“After my dumbass tried to sneak in a kiss when he was driving us home after school, he lost control of the car and hit a pedestrian. Obviously I panicked and panned him to call the police but he wouldn’t..instead of helping a helpless person on the ground he instead went on and on about his reputation and career...” she shakes her head, “he manipulated me into hiding the body. He has this all planned out, he was ready to put me in prison so he could go on and live his best life. He fucking- framed me! I was so stupid...”

You shake your head, saddened by the fact that Jolyne still blames herself,

“No, you’re not. Don’t blame yourself for that. HE’s the stupid one. HE was the dick that did the crime; instead of owning up to it, he made you look like the bad guy. You weren’t, you were just his girlfriend that witnessed the whole thing!”

“Try saying that to the police...they would never believe me.”

“You know, I really wish I could. Stating your side of the story again could really help getting you out of here. I would suggest you ask for a new lawyer. I can even help you if ya want.”

Jolyne shifts in her seat, clicking her tongue as she picked at her fingernails. She began to think about your suggestion and shrugs when she thinks of answer,

“Thanks but it’s fine. I plan to solve all this on my own soon.”

You nod understanding, you didn’t want to annoy her by asking again. You knew after sharing a story like that no one would want to be bugged.

“Okay I’m not gonna ask again but if you do change your mind, just let me know and I’ll be happy to help.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

You smile a small smile at her, she does the same. You look over and pat down on the empty spot next to you,

“Come on, sit.”

Jolyne doesn’t say no to this, she gets up and sits next to you, her legs immediately getting into criss cross position. She was happy being able to get close to you again, your aura was soothing to her. You face her direction,

“I hope this doesn’t come out weird but after our little talk... I’ve grown to be very comfortable with you.”

Jolyne blushes, your face becoming pink as well when you realize you were able to say that out loud. She looks down, a glimpse of her small smile appearing,

“Thanks. I feel comfortable with you too.”

You giggle as you hug Jolyne around the shoulders, she quickly hugs you back around the waist. You blush again when she buries her head further into your neck.

You were thankful that you were already beginning to get close with your new cell mate.

[morningfears]

Just Right

Rating: PG | Fluffy af!

Summary: “I found a ring today.” and “I’m not moving, your lap is too comfortable.” With tattoo artist!Ash request by Anon.

Word Count: 1.6k (kind of a drabble?)

The tattoo shop was finally closed, the door locked and the main room quiet, after a long day of clients. The shop’s staff had long disappeared, all eager to leave work behind for the night, leaving Ashton sat in his office alone. The hum of the overhead lights and the scratch of his pencil against paper filled the silence that had fallen over the shop and for the first time since unlocking the door at ten that morning, he felt like he could focus on the design he’d been working on.

It was a simple concept and should have been an even simpler design but he’d been stuck for days, unable to get it to turn out the way he’d imagined. It was as if his hands had a mind of their own and he’d grown frustrated. The trashcan beside his desk was filled with crumpled pieces of paper, each a discarded attempt at the design, and the cup full of pencils he kept on the corner of the desk was rapidly emptying but no matter how hard he worked, nothing seemed right.

It had to be perfect, he would accept no less for this particular piece, and he just couldn’t get there.

Ashton had planned on giving himself enough time to work for an hour after closing before leaving to meet you for dinner. It was written in bright green ink on his desk calendar and programmed into his phone, just so the shop assistant wouldn’t accidentally schedule a client for him, and he’d been looking forward to it all day. You’d both been exceptionally busy, new clients and projects piling up, so it was a relief that you’d finally be getting some time to yourselves. However, as the hour dwindled he lost himself in his work and seemed to be making greater progress than he had since starting nearly a week ago.

His eyes ached and his head pounded, the strain of the day settling in, but he didn’t dare slow down as he didn’t want to interrupt his progress. Instead, he focused on finally finishing. He was so wrapped up in his work that he didn’t hear the sound of his cellphone vibrating against his desk, nor did he hear the sound of the back door opening or your shoes hitting the tile floor.

You stood in the doorway of his office for a long moment, arms folded over your chest and a fond smile on your lips, to watch him work. His eyebrows furrowed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shaded in the drawing. His hands were covered in graphite, stained from the work he’d done, and you smiled at the sight. Seeing him at work, watching as he drew or tattooed, was one of your favorite sights and you always considered yourself lucky to be able to witness it so regularly.

You remained unnoticed for far longer than you thought you would but the scent of Thai food finally overwhelmed Ashton enough that he lifted his head and blinked in surprise to see you standing in the doorway. He looked confused, but happy to see you, until realization hit him.

“Fuck, I missed dinner, didn’t I?” He frowned, dropping his pencil and reaching to rub his eyes before he caught sight of the mess on his hands and grimaced.

“Technically, no. I’ve got dinner right here.” You held up a plastic bag filled with your usual orders before you stepped into his office and crossed the room to place it onto his desk.

“I’m sorry, doll. I’ve been stuck on this drawing for so long and I finally got it to start looking the way I wanted.” He reached out for you and, despite the stains on his hands, you took his hand and let him pull you to stand between his legs. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you laughed, giggling as his hands found your hips. “Don’t worry about it. The restaurant was crowded, anyway. People were waiting for tables so I figured it’d be nicer to eat here where we don’t have to rush. Can I see what you’re working on?”

Ashton reached around you, quickly piling a few pieces of paper on top of the sheet he’d been drawing on, before he grinned at you. “Nope. Not yet. Don’t want you to see this one until it’s finished.” He did that, every now and then, and though you hated not being able to see the progress he made, you respected his desire to keep his work private until he was ready. So, with a pout, you nodded and reached behind you to grab the bag of food.

“Oh, alright. Well, if I can’t see your work, you can at least take a few minutes to have dinner with me.” 

Ashton laughed as he released you from his grasp and watched as you wandered around his office, grabbing the utensils you’d left stashed in a cabinet for nights like this. You often ended up here, having dinner with him at his desk after work, and though you appreciated the nights that saw you both dressed up and hitting the town, you treasured any moment you got him to yourself.

As you moved about the office, gathering utensils and two drinks from the mini fridge in the corner, Ashton watched you with a fond smile of his own. You were so good to him, even when he did something stupid like forget the dinner date you’d been planning all week, and he loved you more than he ever thought himself capable of.

Without thinking about it, he announced, “I found a ring today.”

It was no secret that Ashton was going to propose. You’d talked about marriage at length, confirmed that marriage was in the cards for you both, and knew that you were both ready. He’d been searching for a ring, one that was exactly what you wanted, and it seemed that he’d finally found one.

“I thought you spent the day at the shop,” you hummed as you returned to the desk and allowed Ashton to pull you down onto his lap.

“I left to get lunch for everyone. Found a shop I hadn’t tried before.” He took the box of noodles from you and pressed a kiss to your temple as a ‘thank you’ when he opened it to find his favorite dish inside.

“So, I should stay away from your sock drawer, then?”

“I’ll show it to you, if you want. That way I can make sure you like it before I propose,” he joked before he took a bite of noodles. 

“Mm, I think I’d prefer to be surprised. I’m sure it’s going to be perfect, you picked it out.”

“Hey, I’m the cheesy one.” He laughed, nudging your side with his elbow, before he nodded. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. I appreciate it. The boys approve.”

“I’m glad. You figure out who’s going to be the best man yet or are you just going to toss their names into a hat and leave it to chance?” You grinned at him, your question ending in a laugh as his own face fell and he released a groan.

“Can I just have three best men?”

“Your three best men are, like, most of our wedding guests, babe. Gotta make some decisions.” You reached out to pat his shoulder and he laughed as he nodded in agreement.

The pair of you had already started planning your wedding, including the guest list, and had settled on a small affair with close friends and family. You knew that he would end up choosing one of the boys sooner or later and you were in no hurry, you weren’t even officially engaged yet, so you let him remain undecided for the time being.

You moved on to a different topic, opting to catch up on what you’d missed in one another’s lives, as you finished eating. You sat comfortably on his lap, content to remain there until it was time to head home, and Ashton noticed as you both placed your empty containers onto the desk.

“I wanted to finish this up before we head home. Do you want to go ahead or wait here?”

“I’m not moving,” you mumbled, turning to place your head in the crook of his neck, “your lap is too comfortable. Can you draw with me here?”

It was, by no means, a comfortable position to draw in but it was possible. And you hadn’t had much time to just be together in recent days so Ashton nodded. “Sure, doll. Just promise you won’t look?”

He rarely made you promise not to look at his work so you nodded, content to keep your head buried against his neck where you could smell the cologne on his skin. “Promise. I’m just gonna close my eyes. If I fall asleep, just wake me up whenever you’re ready to go.”

He knew that you would be asleep in minutes, you hadn’t slept much lately, but that was alright. It’d keep you from looking and ruining the surprise. He was waiting for the right moment to propose, that much you knew, but what you didn’t know was that he was that he was working on a print for you. You were opposed to the idea of a tattoo for a significant other, you firmly believed it was bad luck, but you loved his art so he wanted to give you something special. It wouldn’t be inked onto your skin but it would be permanent enough, framed and hopefully displayed in your future home, and that was enough.

Everything finally felt just right and Ashton was proud to finally know what love really was.

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I love the idea that there’s complete communication about something as big as a proposal. Like, a surprise is nice, but knowing that it’s coming and being open about it is important, I think. I don’t know. Anyway, I’m. still working on drabbles, promise. I haven’t written Ash in so long, I missed my boy.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!) : @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985, @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @mindkaleidoscope​ , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog​ , @333-xx​ , @thesubtweeter​, @zhangyixingxing1​

[girlgirlgirlnormal]

Niragi x OC x Last Boss (Part 3)

Sooo, I wrote a third part! Noone asked for it, but I think I´m going to write more parts, just because I enjoy writing these characters and am having a writers block on my other project :/ And maybe I should proofread and edit the other two parts, but here you go!

But hey! This part is not smut but an actual game! 

I hope you enjoy it! 

part one - part two

“What the fuck where you doing?”, Hina was ripped out of her thoughts as Kuina approached her, whisper-shouting, “What happened?”

“I got laid”, Hina informed her friend, she had woken up sandwiched between Samura and Niragi. At first, she thought that she should be waiting for them to wake up, but it was still dark and they looked both so peaceful. If Hina was being honest, her body was still hurting. A quick look in the mirror had confirmed all the bruises and hickeys she had been feeling, all over her throat, chest, and thighs. Her bikini top only covered the most of her breasts, everything else was exposed. She had stolen a pair of shorts from the drawer, that at least covert the bruises on her butt and the hickeys on her upper inner thigh. She hoped they weren’t going to be too mad about her sneaking away.

“What?”, Kuina exclaimed.

Her eyes widened, as she saw the bruises on Hinas body, “You call that getting laid? You look like you survived your own death.”

“I had worse nights and I´m not even lying about that”, Hina smiled at the pretty girl next to her, “My last boyfriend”, she formed quotation marks with her fingers, as she said boyfriend, “used to do way worse and I still had to dance every night.”

Kuina gave her a sympathetic smile, “Look, I´m sorry about that, but I don’t believe that putting yourself in a situation in which you could easily get killed is going to help with your trauma.”

Hina rolled her eyes, “I did cum twice”, she informed Kuina grinning.

Loudly exhaling through her nose, Kuina shook her head. She was about to say something, but she stopped, grabbing Hinas hand and staring at something behind her. Mustering up a smile Hina turned, finding Niragi and Last Boss approaching them with fast steps.

“Good morning”, she greeted, as soon as the men were in a hearing distance.

Niragi was the first to reach her, one of his hands forcefully grabbing her hair, while the other held his sniper rifle, “Why did you leave?”, he asked angered.

Hina took a deep breath. That was the kind of behavior her old boyfriend had portrayed daily. At least she knew how to handle it.

“I needed to get something to eat”, she gestured towards the bar, her plate was still sitting there, only half eaten, “I didn’t want to wake you. You were both seeping so peacefully.”

“You ran away from us”, Niragi said, Last Boss standing behind him, with his arms crossed.

“I just went to get breakfast”, she said, “Why would I leave you?”

“She deserves a bit of trust after she’s been such a good girl last night”, Samura commented, still not raising a finger to help her.  

“I hope its ok that I borrowed some shorts”, Hina said, still not acknowledging her hurting scalp, “You kinda destroyed my bikini panties.”

“They look great on you”, Samura informed her, finally putting a hand on Niragis shoulder, “Come on. She´s just eating.”

Niragi looked her up and down. His gaze lingering over all the bruises and hickeys they had caused. His fingers unwinded from her hair and glided over her throat, amazed by how pretty the purple spots looked on her.

“I’m yours, remember?”, Hina asked smiling, “I won’t just leave.”

“We were wondering when your visa is going to run out”, Last Boss asked, stepping beside Niragi, “We are going to the game tonight. We want you to come with us.”

“My visa ends in two days”, Hina answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to renew it a couple of days earlier.”

It would hurt. Walking hurt and she couldn’t even sit. Her ass and clit were still throbbing from being abused the night before.

“Good.”, Niragi said, “We’ll see you in the evening.”

With that they left as fast as they had approached.

“Why would you go to a game with them?”, Kuina asked, “What will you do if they sacrifice you?”

“Probably die”, Hina answered, sighing as she saw Kuinas frown, “If they can help me to survive here, I’ll take it. If I die, I die. There is really not much to do about it.”

“Why are you so indifferent about dying?”

“I don’t want to play games forever. I don’t really want to go back to the real world either. I have nothing there.”

She was lying. She had someone. Someone she would never see again. Someone she wasn’t able to have even back in the real world. She would not be able to have him once she got back. Her boyfriend would never allow it.

Hina spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to cool her core to ease the pain and waiting for the gong. The gong always announced that it was time to get ready for the next game. She hoped that it was not a physical game. She didn’t know if she would be able to fight or even run.

“Don’t be stupid”, she whispered to herself, “If you can dance on the pole after he had his way with you, you can run and you can fight.”

They had been nicer to her than he had been. Even the fact that Niragi choked until she had seen black spots dancing in her vision didn’t stop that from being true. He had been so much worse, and nobody had been able to protect her.

Sighing she made her way to the lobby. It was getting dark, it couldn’t take much longer for the gong to go off. Many people seemed to think the same way. The lobby was already fairly crowded as Hina approached. She couldn’t help but notice the lingering gaze of a couple of people, examining her bruises and hickeys. She held her head high. The sports shoes she was wearing were comfortable, but she couldn’t help thinking her dancer shoes would be so much more appropriate right now. She was used to strutting with platform heels, not giving a fuck about what other people thought about her or her profession or all the bruises she had all over her body. She smiled as she saw Samura and Niragi standing in the back of the lobby, talking to some other militants and walked over to them. They stopped talking and watched her move towards them.

“Good evening”, she greeted them, still smiling.

“Hey”, Niragi greeted back.

Last Boss just smiled.

They didn’t start a conversation. Hina did not know what to talk about, with all the other militants around them and the men did not look like they were interested in talking to her anyway. Niragi was back to talking to the others while Samura was still watching her. She looked up at him, still smiling. His tattoos looked nice. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, but she didn’t dare.

“You’re still wearing my shorts”, he said, “Why? You’ve been to your room.”

“I like them”, Hina informed Samura, “They´re comfortable and they are yours.”

“I thought the whole girl steals her boyfriend’s clothes was only a movie trope”, he deadpanned.

Boyfriend? Did he assume they were in a relationship? Did he want that?

Before she could say anything else Hatter was on the balcony, giving a speech about the games and how they all were comrades. Hina didn’t listen. Part of her wanted it to be true. She wanted to be able to go back to the real world. She didn’t want to play games to survive.

She was whisked away to a car with the militants and off to the game before she knew it.

They reached the venue, an old warehouse, in short time and went in. The phones were laid out in a small room in the entrance. Hina couldn’t help but notice how hot it was in there. For once she was happy that she was only wearing a bikini top.

She picked up a phone and let herself be squished between Niragi and Last Boss as the registration proceeded. There were 4 other people as the voice announced that registration was closed.

“Game code: 8 of spades. Game: The floor is lava. Game clear is achieved then players cross the warehouse and enter the safe zone. Time: 15 Minutes”

After the announcement the door behind them opened, unveiling a large warehouse. The floor was literally lava. Objects were floating in the lava, monkey bars and ropes were dangling from the ceiling. A big digital clock was counting back from 15 minutes. Hina sighed, stretching her legs.

So much for protecting me, she mumbled and watched as Niragi attached his sniper rifle to a harness and Last Boss examined the lava.

She watched as turned to one of the women that were not part of the militants and shoved her to the edge.

“What are you doing?”, the woman cried out, “Stop!”

“We need to find out if this is really lava”, Samura only explained, holding the poor women by her hair and shoving face to the edge.

“It cant be lava”, said Hina, all the attention was on her now, “I don’t think that the stuff could float in lava, it would be too hot. It still seems to be pretty hot and I would not recommend touching it.”

It was a thick blubbering substance and steam was rising. If everything she had seen on nationaly geographic was right lava looked different.

“Come on”, she said smiling, “we don’t have much time.”

With that she walked over to the far right of the room and jumped on the table that was floating there. This seemed like a decent starting point. Many other objects were floating nearby and some monkeybars were hanging nearby. Standing on the desk she assessed her next move. The chair, which was placed about a meter from the desk was the nearest object, but it didn’t had enough surface area to land safely. She chose to jump a little bit further and landed on a piece of driftwood. From where she was standing the best jump she could make was to a globe. She looked back. Samura had let go of the woman and was following her. Niragi was standing on something that looked like a sink. She was about to make the jump as a piercing scream echoed through the warehouse. She turned back, the militants all seemed fine, someone was struggling in the lava. The struggle didn’t last long. After mere seconds the person disappeared.

“Maybe acid?”, Hina asked, turning back to Samura.

“You didn’t let me check”, he just said, shrugging.

Hina leapt on the globe, landing on her stomach, barely able to lift her legs enough to not touch the lava. She could hear Samura jumping on the driftwood behind her as she started to lift herself of, trying to stand up, to be able to jump to the monkeybars. The monkeybars were leading straight to a spinning bed in the middle of the room.

“Time remaining: 10 Minutes”, the computer voice announced.

Hina had finally managed to stand up. The globe was slippery, but it wasn’t a far jump to the monkeybars. Once again she was happy about the muscles she had gained while dancing. She managed to grip the first bar. It was swinging back and forth violently, as she realized that the next bar was too far to just grab. She had to built momentum. She leapt, grabbing the second bars.

She heard a loud splash and someone else was screaming. A shudder ran over her back.

“Come on princess”, Niragi was already on the bed.

When did he get there? Taking a deep breath she leapt to the next bar. Only three more there left and she could jump to the bed.

Another scream. She couldn’t look back, but it sounded like a man. Fueled with adrenaline she made the last leaps. She was hanging on the last monkeybar as she felt it swing harder.

“Jump, Niragi will catch you”, Samura said, she could hear him leaping from one bar to the next, making it swing harder.

Hina nodded and using the swing she let go then she was nearest to the bed. Niragi did catch her.

“Nice”, he said, dragging her to the side so last boss had a place to land.

“Its easiest if we go that way”, he explained, after Samura joined them on the bed, pointing to his right, “the objects are smaller but the distance between them is shorter.”

Hina and Samura nodded. Niragi made the first jump. He made it look so easy as he made the second jump and landed effortlessly on his feed on a small barstool. After the bed had spun around two times Samura gave Hina a small nudge, “You first”, he said.

Hina nodded and made the jump, landing on her butt.

“Ouch”, she mumbled, standing up and making the next jump to the barstool that Niragi had already vacated.

Another scream echoed through the warehouse. Hina looked around. Only one of the other militants was left and the girl that Last Boss had threatened to push into the lava was a couple of meters behind them, sitting on top of a piece of driftwood.

She made the next jump. Only a couple more jumps were left.

“3 Minutes left”, the computer voice announced.

“Fuck”, mumbled Niragi, “Come on, princess.”

She jumped. Samura was close on her heels. She jumped again. And again. Niragi reached the other edge and started looking for the door to the safe room.

“2 Minutes left”

“Found it”, Niragi announced, opening a door. He left it wide open and went back to the edge, reaching for Hina, “Come on.”

Two jumps were left, but one of them was another globe, much smaller than the one she had jumped on before.

“You can do it”, Samura said behind her.

Mustering up her courage she made the jump, landing on her stomach. It took some effort to stand up, but the next platform, another sink, was close, so she made the jump. She turned back and watched Samura make the jump to the globe, somehow landing on his feed.

“30 seconds left”

“Come on!”, Niragi screamed, extending his hand to her.

She made the last jump and found herself in Niragis arms. Not even two seconds later they were joined by Samura on the edge.

“Go”, he said, shoving Hina to the open door.

Just as the voice started to count down from 10 Samura was the last of the trio entering the room. He wanted to close the door, but Hina stopped him. She wanted to help the others, but they were too far away.

“3”, counted the voice.

Sighing she stepped to the side, letting Samura close the door.

“Game cleared.”, the voice announced.

She felt herself being squished by two bodies, as Samura and Niragi hugged her while on the other side of the door pained screams erupted. They didn’t scream long.

Their phones beeped, showing that they had earned 8 additional days to their visa.

“Let’s go home”, Niragi said, opening the door on the other side of the room.

Sighing she followed the men out. The cool night air felt nice after the hellish heat inside.

“You were good”, Samura commented as they were seating in the car.

They had lost everyone else in the game. She was wondering why they were not upset over the deaths of their militant friends, but she guessed that it would make sense. She had known that they didn’t really have many friends in the beach.

“Theres an executive meeting”, Niragi informed her, as they reached the beach, “Go to Samuras room, we’ll come as soon as possible.”

Hina nodded and watched them walk away.

“How was the game?”, asked Kuina, who had approached her from behind.

“They did not sacrifice me to find out if the floor was really lava.”, Hina deadpanned, “What were you up to?”

“Just hanging out with Chishiya”, Kuina answered, “Did you just say the floor was lava?”

[carrioncrows-readers]

You may not be good at a lot, but damn if you don't know business and numbers.

Content Warnings: major content warning for sexual harassment, explicit violence

When Jacob first brought you to the brothel, you thought he'd genuinely lost his mind — you made it quite clear you weren't interested in fucking him for money. With his arm around your shoulders, you were prepared to make quite a lot of fuss if he tried anything — but he didn't. Instead, he offered you a bookkeeping job for steady pay, with room to take "freelancing" on commission should you so desire. It was unexpected. It was — nice. The place is nice. A bit gauche, and good lord, those curtains are tacky, but you didn't expect prostitutes to be so…

Well.  Nice.

Come to find out, the woman who left a lipstick stain on Jacob's cheek (you aren't jealous; you aren't) is named Jenny. Jenny is in the elected position of being madame (you didn't know madames were elected?) of the establishment. Which also happens to be the name of the brothel itself. The Establishment. Tongue-in-cheek, but effective.

She's full-bodied and impossibly soft, brown hair piled into curls on top of her head. The pearls she wears are gifts from clients, apparently, and it's become so much of a running joke that for her birthday, the girls saved up to get her a new set of pearl earrings for fun. You have no idea why she wears them all at once.

She peers over your shoulder as you scribble in the ledger, writing down dates and numbers, trying not to get a headache putting it all together. Unfortunately, you haven't had time to sharpen up your sums.

"Ms. Jenny," you glance at her from the corner of your eye, looking for a way to fill the silence since no one is murdering the pianoforte, "can I ask why you haven't done the bookkeeping yourself?" She hums and smiles at you. You notice dimples in the roundness of her cheeks, like craters on the moon.

"Well, dearie, it's because I can nary read nor write. Neither can any of the others — been meaning to hire a bookkeeper for a bit, just never got 'round to it, I suppose." Suddenly and for, of course, no reason at all, you want to disappear into the floor. You should have guessed. Now you feel awful.

You look at your notes. You had all the girls tell you a rough estimate of their earnings for the past six months; some were more accurate than others, but you get the feeling that Jacob just wanted to find you something to do. He doesn't take a massive percentage anyways; usually, it fluctuates depending on how much they've earned that month. Always enough for a comfortable living after expenses, always favorable towards the brothel residents. You've no idea why, just that he somehow manages to supplement his own income enough that it doesn't put him in the red.

"I see," you say, pausing to add up all the earnings for July, minus overhead. Jenny leans in with her eyes narrowed and pokes your side, making you jump so high your ass almost hits the ceiling.

"You're a right hard one to read you are; what's that supposed to mean? Hm?" She pokes you again, and you feel your cheeks burn bright red.

"Nothing! Nothing, I just — felt terrible for asking, I suppose.  Ow."  You rub your side — does the woman have knives for fingers, or is your skin just made of paper? She pokes your arm — definitely knife fingers.

"Well, no harm done."

You sit quietly, shuffling papers in the ledger until everything is tight and up to date — it's not doing too terribly for a Whitechapel brothel. Still, there are some improvements to be made — namely, the settlement of customer debts.

How ironic that you have become the creditor now.

You set your pen down and lean against your steepled fingers, a plot crawling up the back of your mind and settling in. You ask Ms. Jenny, since she is much more familiar with the Rooks than you, to find you a few burly men. And to tell them to bring weapons. Blunt ones.

This is your job now — you'll be damned if you're not going to do it well. Besides, this isn't something you should bother Jacob with.

It isn't tricky to track down your debtors; one look at you smiling in your silks and velveteens, a train of rugged brutes behind you, and people scrape the ground to tell you where your targets live. They know what's coming, and they're not eager to try and quell the storm. You knock very politely on the door to an apartment in a run-down shack of a building, watching it crack open a hair's breadth. That is all the opening your boys need — they muscle in and push Mr. Curtis to the ground. You ignore him swearing to shut the door, folding your hands in front of your stomach.

"Mr. Curtis! I believe we have business."

"I don't know what you're fucking talkin' about," he spits. A simple nod of your head is all the excuse one of your enforcers needs to start walloping Mr. Curtis about the head until he begs you to stop him. You do, the smile on your face ever so slowly becoming a genuine manic grin.

"You owe my employer quite a bit of money. Do you have a wife, Mr. Curtis? I assume not if you visit brothels so often, but I wouldn't put it past you to cheat, either." Curtis rolls onto his side and covers his weeping nose, and you're fascinated by the slow drip-drip-drip of red into a puddle on the floor. "You have one month, which I find very generous. Can you read?" You don't receive an answer, just a low groan of pain that sends a tingle up your toes; you pull a piece of paper out of your pocket, the ink already dry as you sit it on a side table. On it is a sum of money, a date, and Curtis' name.

You leave him to lick his wounds, damn near skipping out into the darkened street. You visit three more houses in short order before returning to the brothel to see Jacob leaned over the intake desk, talking with Jenny. They both have lit cigars between their fingers. You had no idea Jacob smoked. He turns his head, and you suddenly feel self-conscious of where you've been.

"Done terrorizing the whole of Whitechapel?" He asks, but he doesn't sound unangry. Not that it doesn't stop you from worrying that he's simply putting on an air of calm. You quail and fiddle with the ends of your gloves, staring at your shoes.

"I apologize-"

"Think nothing of it," he says and comes over to pat your shoulder. "Debts need to be paid, and I appreciate you looking after my people. Your people now, too, I guess." Your people. You stare at Jacob and his toothy smile around his cigar, his hand still settled on your shoulder like it belongs there. You clear your throat and shrug it off, hurrying to the desk to note down when your debtors are supposed to send in their payments. It's mostly just to keep your hands busy.

Your people.

You've never really belonged to a group before. You exist in the gray strata between the middle class and the aristocracy, scathingly referred to as the  nouveau riche  by your would-be peers and mistrust by the working people of London, you belong nowhere. Unwelcome in the clubs and symposiums of the genteel, nor the pubs and coffeehouses of the mercantile caste. You didn't even have that many friends among the newly rich, either. Even for them, you were too…  off.  Violet Morvell was someone who tolerated you enough to call you acquaintance. Or so you thought.

The idea of having people is foreign and exciting, and terrifying all at once.

***

Your time at the brothel is well-spent. You buy yourself a math primer with the salary you get and brush up on your sums. With that knowledge in hand, you are brutally efficient with the finances of The Establishment. You set up a sign-in sheet and record every name that comes through the door, much to the patrons' shock and chagrin. The burly doorman you recently hired on is insistence enough they give you their real names, which in and of themselves are insurance. Occasionally he has to throw out a tirading customer, but they usually come back for their fix of unfortunate women. Sex, you suppose, is at the root of most vices.

At the end of the month, all four of your debtors turn their money into your capable (you hope) hands. You didn't have to visit them a second time — they either respect Jacob Frye too much, or they're too terrified of him to keep skimping on his money.

You begin educating a few of the girls on manners, etiquette, and how to properly play a pianoforte without sounding like they're torturing a cow. When you suggest that the brothel start serving tea and coffee to waiting customers, Ms. Jenny happily converts one of the rooms into a small kitchen. It makes more overhead, but in the end, the payout is astounding — it makes the patrons feel special, and men who feel special are pleasantly inclined to give more in terms of tips. Pun intended. Jacob would be proud of that one, you think.

It also attracts wealthier clientele, whom you are more than happy to charge extra for the pleasure of pretty company. The Establishment prospers with you holding the purse strings; you almost dare yourself to feel proud. The Rooks have taken to calling you  bookie,  of all things. Sometimes they even invite you out for drinks.

You've never had a nickname before. You think you might like it.

The English winter drudges on and turns into an English spring, and you settle into a rhythm. You moved into an apartment in Whitechapel, a nicer one (in comparison — it's still poverty when set beside how you used to live, but you think you're slowly acclimating to it) closer to work. You spend most of your time with Ms. Jenny and the girls anyway — most nights, you find yourself passed out at your desk until Ms. Jenny shoos you to a couch in a dark corner by the stairs. She begins to insist that you call her Jenny, just Jenny — but that seems like a breach to you, a line you're just not ready to cross yet, no matter how many times she covers you with a blanket and lets you sleep in the receiving room.

At the end of every month, you meet Jacob in a pub to hand over his cut and go over the ledger. He always lingers to talk with you after, and you've gotten to know him, you think. As much as you can know someone who somehow manages to head both a crime syndicate and an alleged, shady reactionary freedom movement. At least that's what you can glean from the whispered conversations he's had with you when you ask after it.

"I think I know that look," he says, pointing his glass at you, "what are you thinking about?"

Damn him and his sharp eyes — you really must be more careful about your expressions.

"I realize that I don't actually know you at all," you say, swirling your glass around in your hand to slosh the wine inside. Frye's response is a dry chuckle and little more than that, grabbing the bottle of wine and refilling his own cup. You know he's not partial to wine. You know he prefers milds to bitters and finds that lager doesn't have the malty taste he enjoys, but he drinks it when he goes to Evie and Jayadeep's. But beyond that? He may as well be a ghost to you.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he says. You watch him chug half his cup before he sits it down again, wipes his mouth, and clears his throat. You sit your glass down, a companion piece. You'd threaten to kick him over not savoring it, but the wine they serve here isn't worth savoring.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" He seems utterly baffled by the idea.

"You know — things you enjoy. That you do on your off time."

"I think it's so incredibly, endearingly bold of you to assume I have off time." He smiles and then leans his chin on the heel of his hand and makes a show of thinking. "I do enjoy a good game of cards."

"Does that count as a hobby?"

"Why wouldn't it? Not everyone can afford to learn croquet or whatever they teach at Fancy Lads and Lasses School for Fancy Lads and Lasses." That stings — you take a drink of wine to lessen the bruise that puts on your ego, and Jacob visibly softens with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. That was unkind of me."

"No — no, you're right." You look down at your hands, smooth and uncalloused, and rub your thumb against your palm to keep them busy. "I'm coming to learn that the world is very different from what I thought."

You don't know why you said it. Or why Jacob Frye touches his fingertips to yours after a long, pregnant pause. You startle, and you look up to see him with that softened smile.

"It's a lot to take in." He pulls his hand away; you find yourself missing the brush of it. Your fingers curl into your palms of their own accord.

"When did  you  first learn about all this Assassin and Templar business?" You ask.

"About four minutes after Evie, right out of the womb. We were raised in it. Our parents were both Assassins, so were our grandparents, probably their grandparents too. It's a good thing we keep dying young; otherwise, we'd be twice as inbred as Her Majesty and company." You gasp.

"That is the queen you're insulting!"

"She's a right shit old bird, is what she is," he plants a hand on his chest, looking wounded. "She almost took Evie's knighthood! Because we dared ask politely for her not to steamroll over all India and probably gleefully kick puppies in the process."

"Evie was knighted?"

"Henry and I too, but I didn't want the damn thing."

"You're a  knight?"  He curls his lip, topping up your glass and sighing. He nods his head as though it's a burden, and you snort into your wine glass. The dismay strangely suits him — he doesn't seem the type to want or even know what to do with a knighthood. You can't imagine him in a suit and medal either, no matter how hard you try.

You're about to ask him what his parents thought about him being here when someone grabs a chair and muscles their way to your table. You're pushed damn near into the wall, scowling and moving if only to keep your wine from spilling. You recognize the idiot who stuck his nose in — his name is Smith, and he's a bastard.

You've had to throw him out of The Establishment more than once; you'd entertain the idea that he has some sort of vendetta against you, but he's not worth the effort of thinking about. He downs his bottle of lager and sits it down onto the table, swaying in his seat. His eyes are bloodshot under the greasy, unwashed blond mop of his hair. He grins at Jacob with all his teeth after he greets him warmly. Loudly.

You cow in the corner as the whole bar turns to look at your table, trying to hide in your skin. For the most part, Jacob seems annoyed. Still, he greets Smith with the impatient smile of a father whose child interrupted an important meeting. You can see a muscle twitch in his cheek when Smith leans on you, his hand wrapping like an uncomfortable snake around your waist.

Your heart freezes, and every muscle you own goes rigid like stone as he spreads his palm over your hip.

"Didn't know you visited the Judies, boss! How much does ol' bookie go for these days? Gold or silver?" You grip your wine glass until your knuckles threaten to split, hot behind the ears as he leans in. His breath smells like a month's worth of stale beer. You fix him with your eye and pull your lip away from your teeth, speaking through a tight jaw. Usually, that is enough to get the handsy ones to back off; not tonight, apparently.

"You know very well that I work the desk. Nothing more, Mr. Smith."

"Yeah, with that stick up your arse, I bet you don't get many Johns. No room." He winks at Jacob, who simply sits and lets you wallow in your misery, the smile gone from his face. You look at him, pleading, as Smith leans even further in and plucks your wine glass out of your hands. You can't move. You can't stop him.

"Aw, c'mon, poppet! Give us a smile." Jacob grits his teeth until his jaw is white, a warning snarl curling his lip away from his teeth.

"That is  enough,  Smith."

"What? Boss, I'm jus' havin' a little fun. Hazin' the greenies, you know how it is." Smith turns back to you, leering ever closer, the rank of his breath falling across your cheek. "You're having fun, aren't you, darling?" The world melts away, candle wax as his hand travels down to rest on the outside of your thigh. You can only think of  Thomas Fucking Morvell.  His hand around your waist. It feels so suffocatingly like he's there instead of Smith, and something-

Something in you.

Snaps.

You think you might be seeing yourself outside your body, your hand wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle as you slam the motherfucker into his big mouth. It explodes in a haze of glass. The force pushes him backward, out of the booth, onto the floor, and he covers his bleeding face with his hands and screams, screams, screams.

"You stupid fucking cunt!"  Smith wails more obscenities at you, but you aren't listening. Your ears ring. The bottle feels oh-so-right in your hands, perfect. Jacob stands when you do, eyes wide and eyebrows high, but he's not quick enough to stop you from straddling Smith's chest and grabbing his lacerated jaw with your hand. Glass cuts into your fingers. He stares up with one eye swollen shut with blood and the other ballooned in horror. You raise the shattered, razor-sharp bottleneck over your head. You feel like an animal.

You wish you could say something clever — but your teeth are pressed so tightly that your words wither and die at the pass. Smith shrieks when your arm falls towards his eyes in a violent arch.

Aren't you having fun, poppet? Gimme a smile.

Something firm and solid stops your arm and wrenches you up with so much force you spin, and the bestial part of you uses the momentum to try to punch out at whatever's caught you. You've never thrown a punch in your life, but by God, are you going to throw one now. Something grabs that arm too.

You force yourself to refocus, panting hard and covered in blood from a million tiny cuts, splattered in Smith's gore and stale beer.

Jacob is staring at you, holding your wrists tight and firm to keep you from hurting someone else — or yourself. Then, finally, the horror dawns on you that the bar — the entire bar — is staring at you. You drop the bloodied bottleneck; your chest feels like it's going to implode. And yet Jacob keeps staring.

"You," he says, more to himself than you, "are full of so many interesting surprises."

***

You are cleaned up, bandaged, and taken to a private room above the bar. You spend minutes (hours, feels like) pacing. Back, forth — back, forth. You chew at your bandages and lament that your nails are covered, gnashing like a beast to try and bite them to the quick.

When Jacob opens the door, you want to throw yourself at his feet.

"Jacob," your voice wobbles, your breath coming out in short gasps, "I am so, so sorry-" He cuts you off with a raised hand.

"No, I'm sorry."

...What?

Whatever for?

You stare in stunned silence while he rubs the back of his neck. "You were obviously uncomfortable, and he just — kept touching you. And I didn't stop him. I'm sorry."

"You — You told him to stop." You want to laugh. This is a trick — this has to be a trick.

"That is not enough." He sighs. "Considering I know what it feels like." He grimaces at the floor, arms crossed, and you collapse back to sit on the bare mattress, hearing the frame creak its protest under your weight. The two of you exist in oppressive quiet until Jacob pipes up from the door.

"But — that was impressive, back there. And you've shown a lot of initiative and drive these past few months. I think you should join us — the Creed." It sounds like a speech he's rehearsed for months, shocked into pulling it out now at the most inopportune of times. It's damn-near comical, but you can't bring yourself to laugh.

"Again, with your crazy cult of conspiracy theorists." You sag, running a hand over your face. "Fine. I'll join you. What else do I have to lose?" The silence that follows is awkward and strange, so you try to fill it with conversation. "What did you mean when you said you knew what it felt like?" Jacob leans against the wall, watching a patch of the floor behind you with great interest. It takes him a moment to speak, but he sounds distant. Weather vaned to a place in history far away.

"His name was Maxwell Roth."

"The old leader of the Blighters? The one that set fire to the Alhambra?"

"The very same." You try to conjure him in your mind from what you remember. You come up with a shadowed figure in a mask and a cruel grin; you only know that he was much older than the two of you. You pull your knee to your chest and block out the thoughts as Roth slowly mutates into a figure you know far, far too well, and hate far, far too much.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"Don't be — it was a lifetime ago."

"A year," you smile; it doesn't reach your eyes. "But those can feel like lifetimes, can't they?"

"Sure as the sun shits gold, are you right." He moves to sit beside you, his hands folded between his knees, back bent. "He — I loved him. At least I think I did, afterward. After he died. He'd call me  darling  and  my dear,  and he made me feel so — so damn good about myself — all the things I'd accomplished like I was special. But I think we both loved a man who was," he trails off, trying so hard to find the words. You finish for him, hauntingly familiar with the feeling.

"Different from who the real man was," you say. "You loved the image you had in your head." And afterward, Jacob fell in love with the nostalgia.

"Right." He pauses and then coughs, the tips of his ears red. "We never had sex. I mean, afterward, shit — yeah, there were men. But for Roth and me — he was just touchy-feely. I thought I didn't mind then, but looking back on it now…" You feel nausea coil in your stomach; it's like looking in a mirror.

You never would have known. Or maybe he's just not as broken as you.

But to hear that you're not alone — you can find some measure of comfort in that, even if you're horrified to see your doppelganger sitting by you. You ask Jacob if Evie knows — she doesn't. She never will, if he has anything to say about it; all she knows is that something changed when he killed Roth, maybe for better or maybe for worse.

You don't know what to do — so you hesitantly lean against him, hoping that you're a comforting weight. He lets you. You stare straight ahead to keep from crumpling like a paper crane.

"I'm glad you said yes," he says. "This isn't — it's not a life I ask you to join lightly."

"What do I have to lose?" You repeat yourself, finally feeling brave enough to glance up, watching Jacob light a match and catch fire to the end of a cigar — the same one he's been smoking for a week, you realize. He must be saving it. "Does your mother know you smoke those things?" Not that it'd make much of a stir — they're meant to be healthy for the lungs anyhow. It's just unfortunate about the smell.

"Didn't know her," he says, almost as a throwaway comment as he takes a deep drag of smoke. You jolt, the shock of it filling your bones. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, fiddling with the selvage of your bandages. "I simply realized that we have much more in common than I thought."

[morethanaloveinterest]

An Incognito Review of Natasha Romanoff's Costumes in CATWS

Let's talk about what Natasha wears on the run (and in disguise) during Captain America: The Winter Soldier

(under the cut)

I'll make a full post of all her suits and how those change over the years, but this one is my second-favorite. She's in it pretty rarely, though. Just the very first scene, and then in the helicopter at the end. I think it's the movie where she spends the most time in civilian clothes. Anyway, this one looks MUCH more comfortable than the Avengers one, which seems like it doesn't breathe at all. This one being clearly fabric looks much nicer.

Female representation: 9/10 It’s great, obviously has a tactical purpose. It's not unzipped scandalously and it doesn't emphasize her *assets*

Practicality: 10/10 Again, I feel I must give all of these tens because she wouldn't wear something impractical for work unless it was part of the job. I do feel this one is more practical than the other two thus far since it does look more comfortable and breathable.

She wears this during a few different scenes, once with a green jacket instead (so I'm putting them together). It's her civilian clothes that she wears when not undercover, following the previous movie by being skinny jeans and another (two!) of her endless leather jackets. Brown and black is a bold combination and looks great with her hair color (I'm also a redhead, so I like this one better than the Avengers ones because those had orange and we don't look good in orange). It's also muted, which matches the overall aesthetic of the movie.

Female representation: 9/10 As I said in the last one, it's great that she gets to wear tight-fitting clothing in a way that makes it just seem like her preference. Instead of making it seem like it's specifically for the audience.

Practicality: 9/10 Very practical, especially with layers she can take off when she's chilling (like at Sam's house). As we see in the fight, she obviously has some gadgets on under the jacket (grappling hook, stingers), so she's pretty prepared for anything.

This is the mall outfit she wears to go undercover with Steve. She wears the hood up at the mall, which adds to the disguise. I love it, especially the converses she's wearing. She looks very comfortable and definitely like an average mall-going in 2014.

Female representation: 10/10 This is the most normal thing we've seen her wear. I like that, even though it has skinny jeans, it doesn't really show off her physique. She's undercover, something that many movies use as an excuse to make her extra sexy. Instead, this one makes her look extra comfy, and I love that.

Practicality: 8/10 Steve says the shoes will fall off if he runs, and I must assume hers are the same way. It's unclear if she has any of her gadgets on with this one, other than her phone. But it does include pockets big enough for her phone and good enough to protect the drive, which is honestly more practical than a lot of my jeans, so, it's pretty good.

I couldn't find a full-body picture of her when she takes the mask off, sorry. But that's her outfit as Counselor Hawley. It's very professional, matching the suits the men are wearing. It's a great color for Nat (especially with her red hair) and I like the style. The necklace is perfect for the role and is obviously not Nat's usual choice.

Female representation: 8/10 I mean, seeing her beat up the guards in the room while wearing this is super awesome. Especially in a pencil skirt.

Practicality: 7/10 This is probably the least practical thing she wears in the movie, though she obviously does everything she needs to do while wearing it. I'm sure it wouldn't be her first choice of mission outfits, however.

This is what she wears during the final scene. She tends to end movies wearing more black then she started (in IM2, she wears black dresses after being revealed as the Black Widow; in Avengers, she wears a black shirt in the ending scene). I don't know if that's intentional, but I like the idea of it revealing who she really is (the Black Widow, dressed in black leather even as a civilian). I also really like the white tank top with this look - it really pops. And I love seeing yet another of her endless leather jackets. This one may be my favorite - I really like the length on her.

Female representation: 9/10 Same as the above civilian outfits - it's a great nod to her tac suit without emphasizing how tight things are.

Practicality: 8/10 Practical, for civilian clothes. I expect those pockets are fake, though, and it's unclear if she has any gadgets on. Which would make it more fun

Check out my other costume ratings here

Please come listen to me talk about Natasha’s character arc in each movie on Youtube - the whole 6-part series out now!

[vventure]

Change - Atsumu Miya Must Die, Ch. 1

Series Mini Mlist: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Genre: Angst (only lightly this part), Fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none for now

Summary: Atsumu Miya is a player; dating three girls from three different friend groups so they don’t find out. What happens when they do, though? And how does [Y/N] play into their plan for ultimate revenge?

A/N: This is only the first chapter, so it’s a little dull, I’m sorry! Ahh okay, welcome to my little idea that wouldn’t get out of my head. I’m really excited about this project, and I hope you guys will be too! This fic is HEAVILY inspired by the movie John Tucker Must Die, and I just felt like breaking mean ole’ Atsumu’s heart (huehuehue). I’m not sure how many parts there will be for this, but I’ll definitely make a masterlist for it when the time comes.

Taglist: @for-ests​ @writeiolite​ -  message me if you want to be added!

“Atsumu Miya, there’s only one guy out there for me…” Your recorded voice blared from the flat screen in the bar as his college volleyball team and dormitory friends watched intently. 

Heart racing, you frantically ripped your body from Atsumu’s arms and ran to where the TV was plugged in, cutting the power. 

You didn’t make it in time, and those words you’d recorded so many months ago, before your plans were ruined by ‘Tsumu’s affections, made the room fall silent: “...and you are not...”

Whipping around, you locked eyes with the man you’d made fall in love with a fake version of you, and who you thought maybe you actually felt something for.

“What’s this?”

“I can’t believe we really just moved to Hyogo for a man,” your arms were crossed and your jaw was set as you addressed your sister Ami while riding with her to the boyfriend’s apartment. This had been a point of contention for months between the two of you. 

Since the loss of your parents, Ami became your guardian. You were pretty attached to each other, and so when your sister told you that she was planning to move to Hyogo to live with her boyfriend of six months, you felt compelled to move with her. Her decisions surrounding men had always been questionable, and this was no different.

For two months while preparing to move, you’d argue every day over small things and big things alike. You didn’t do the dishes right after finishing dinner? Fight. You wanted Ami to physically meet the man she was moving in with before the move? Fight.

And to make things worse, her resentment for being saddled with a hormonal teenager to take  care of in her early twenties was showing through. It hurt for you to realize her resentment towards you, no matter how much she told you she loved you and that she didn’t resent you.

Could you really blame her? Maybe a little; you were always more of an adult than she was in your shared life, and she probably resented more that she had to be a grounded adult instead of a flighty party girl.

“It’s not like this was out of nowhere, [Y/N],” your sister grumbled, shooting you a glare and pulling you from your thoughts. “Plus, you didn’t have to move, you had a place in Miyagi.”

“That’s a lot of traveling for holidays, and you know I have to keep my eye on you.”

“I’m an adult, I think I’m fine by myself,” Ami said. “You better not cramp our style while you’re staying with us.”

“So sue me for wanting to keep the only family I have left close,” you spat, looking away from your older sister. “I’ll be in the dorms in a week, resent me as much as you want until then, you’re really good at it.”

“Whatever,” she said, her attention completely leaving you as she pulled in front of a tall, sleek apartment building. This was way nicer than the one you’d shared in Miyagi, and your jaw dropped at the sight. What kind of guy was Riku anyway?

A tall man ran from the main door of the apartment building as Ami flung the car into park and jumped out without turning it off. You’d never seen her move this quickly as she ran and leapt into the arms of her boyfriend, his strong grip able to swing her around like a rag doll.

Pulling the keys from the dash, you stepped out and slung your bag over your shoulder. You thought your legs might give out after the long drive, but you willed yourself to stand and give Riku a guarded smile.

“Welcome, welcome!” He boomed, pulling you into a tight hug before picking up your bags and lugging them towards the front door. “I’ve already gotten a lot of the packages you sent, and I made sure to set up [Y/N]’s room so she’d be comfortable.”

“Rikuuu, you sweetheart,” Ami gushed, pulling his body to hers so she could plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. She’d driven the entire way from Miyagi to Hyogo and her exhaustion was showing. “So thoughtful.”

There was only one week until you could move into your dorm. One. Week. You could deal with their infatuation for one week, right?

--

Riku’s apartment, well-- Ami and Riku’s apartment-- was cozy. Small touches that your sister had sent through the post were littered around the main living area and it brought you a small feeling of comfort and home as you took them in. 

On the coffee table sat the misshapen mug you’d made during high school ceramics. On one of the walls was a picture Ami had taken of the backyard you’d shared during the time your parents were still around. He’d even displayed a picture of you and your sister on high school graduation day. Ami had worked hard to make your life normal during the last two years of high school, and her pride over your accomplishments showed so clearly in the sunny picture.

“This is a really nice apartment,” you said, turning to look at Riku as you spoke. “Thank you for letting me stay for a week.”

“Of course, [Y/N], anyone important to my boobear is important to me.”

His pet name made you want to gag, but you swallowed it and spoke again, “Where will I be sleeping?”

“Down the hall, first door on the right,” he said, handing your bags over. “Rest a little and we’ll get something to eat. I wanna show you guys my favorite restaurant!”

Making your way down the foreign corridor, you came upon an open room that had a small bed, bedside table, and dresser. It was plain, but honestly you didn’t need it to be anything fancy. Most of your things were still stacked in boxes off to the side of the dresser in anticipation of being moved into the dorm with you, but one of the boxes was cut open, and some of its contents had found their way to the dresser top and bedside table.

A framed picture of you, Chikara Ennoshita, Hisashi Kinoshita, Kazuhito Narita, Ryuunosuke Tanaka, and Yuu Nishinoya sat on the dresser. It was taken during their final volleyball game of high school, and even though they were sweaty and emotional they agreed to take a picture with their closest friend who was always there to support them. Next to that was a framed picture of Noya and you swinging in one of the parks near school, faces split by massive smiles as you enjoyed the childish pleasure of weightless glee.

Riku had made good choices for decoration, you’d give the stranger that.

You missed these goofs already; Chikara always checking on how you were doing in college and making sure you were eating healthily and drinking water; Kazuhita texting you to make sure that you weren’t too stressed and you were taking care of yourself mentally; Hisashi coming by to take you out for boba, showing you the latest memes he’d acquired; and Yuu and Ryuu dragging you along to parties, which you always ended up enjoying no matter how much you complained about them. 

Your heart ached at the memories of your friends no longer a short bus ride or walk away. 12 hours was a lot of distance between you all, and it was finally hitting you that this was not Miyagi anymore. What if you didn’t make any friends here? 

It was already your third year of college, and most of the people in your classes would likely already have friend groups. How weird would you look when you moved into a dorm with people who likely knew each other?

With a sigh, you flopped face-first onto the bed and willed the fresh cotton scented bed covering to suffocate you. What if your friends from Miyagi didn’t care about your absence. You let out a half-hearted wail imagining Chikara blocking your number, irrationality taking over your brain.

“[Y/N]?” Ami’s voice drifted through the open door as she looked for you. “We’re gonna go get something to eat now, actually. Riku is hungry and I think I am too.”

She thinks she is? You rolled over and sat up to look at her.

“Y’know, Riku seems really nice. I don’t think you have to, like, change yourself for him or whatever you usually do for the guys you date,” you said while swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to stand.

Ami just rolled her eyes and rejoined Riku in the living room. You were fast on her heels, slipping out of your house shoes and putting on your sneakers.

“Alright!” Riku said with a smile. “Let’s go get onigiri!”

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

21 - Unwanted Inconvenience

I've changed the band name from "Xannys" to "Grimlace". I am extremely sorry for making you all suffer through having such an awful band name in the past.

I cannot stress this enough, please vote for my chapters! And I love every comment I get so much!! It makes my day seeing the number of comments I get:)

This chapters songs:

Retreat! - Crumb

Sponge Won't Soak - Wild Moccasins

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

- Y. L. Perspective

"Uhm...Suga?" Tanaka's voice is heard to our left, waking both me Koshi up from our very long nap. "We're here you know."

His awkward tone alone was enough to send us both jumping out of our seats, fearful that the entire team had waited for us to get up. But thankfully, it was just Daichi and Tanaka standing above us.

Both Koshi and I look at each other in unison. "Sorry..." he manages to mumble while leaving the seat. I follow him shortly after, leaving the van empty.

Was I sorry? No. The nap against Koshi was five stars. I hadn't ever had such a comfortable car ride in my entire life until I rested on him. Besides, he was my boyfriend. Why would I be sorry for something silly like that?

What I was sorry about was that we almost got noticed by Eclair. The entire team knew about Koshi and me, except for her. I didn't know much about her and from what I perceived of her she didn't seem like a drama starter. She would most likely cry and yell and forget about it when she went back to France in a couple of days.

We had thought everyone would be tired after such a long car ride. But not Hinata. He admired the structure of the big building, yelling, "Wow! I've never been to a training camp before! This feels so cool!"

"It's just a training camp," Kageyama remarked, yet Hinata stands unfazed.

The team entered the building, all of us observing its basic beige architecture and decor. Everyone gathered around Takeda to ask which rooms they were assigned to. As for Kiyoko, Eclair, and I—we had asked him beforehand to get a head start.

All three of us manage to sneak off from the crowd and hunt down our room number: #613. Although I wasn't very comfortable around Eclair, I didn't feel uneasy to be sleeping in the same room as her. It only meant I couldn't update Kiyoko on my relationship with Sugawara.

Once we'd found our designated room, I unfolded the tiny key and stick it into the lock, hearing a click not soon after I turn it.

When I had opened the door, I wasn't entirely dissatisfied. There were two bunk beds on each side of the room, all four mattresses covered in floral printed sheets with nightstands next to them. The curtains had the same pattern as the sheets, falling over a large square window.

Overall, it was a nice room. Way nicer than the previous motels and hotel rooms that my band had stayed in during concerts and such. All stank of marijuana and alcohol.

Eclair's brackets make a 'jingle!' sound while she squealed, "it's lovely!" The girl runs up to one of the bottom bunks and places her bag there, collapsing onto the mattress. "I'm so thankful to be spending my last few days in Japan here!"

Kiyoko nods gently, her too putting her luggage on the opposite bunk bed. Assuming she wouldn't mind it, I threw my bag on the bunk above her. It would most likely be easier to communicate with her if I shared a bed with her.

"Yes, it's very nice," I say, smiling merely at the blonde girl.

Kiyoko began to unpack her toiletries into the small drawer attached to the bunk bed. I hopped down from the top bed and did the same, observing the carvings that the drawers had. Names, dates, and funny remarks were scratched out in the middle of it, lots of them left from previous sports or art students that came to this building for a camp of some kind. All were either hilarious, inappropriate, or gentle. But in all, they made me smile.

"So you're in a band, Y/n?"

In my eyes widen in fear. Nobody from the team other than Sugawara, Daichi, and Kiyoko knew that I was in a band. So how did the girl find out?

Hesitantly turning my head, I nod, making out an awkward smile across my face. "Uhh, yeah. How'd you know?"

She sits up confidently and chuckles. "I was taking a glance at your Instagram. You seem to go on a lot of trips around the world!"

I wasn't very used to being confronted about my band. And besides that, being acknowledged she was looking through my Instagram was stressful. If she knew about my band, was it possible she knew about Koshi and me?

"Yeah, I travel now and then." Proceeding to unpack my things as if it was no issue to be questioned, I place my pairs of shoes under the bed.

No matter how uncomfortable I attempted to make my tone, she kept on going. "Oh...that sounds like fun! You must have so many fans. Your voice is great too. I wonder why you've never told them team about Grimlace!"

"Hm, I like to keep my life outside of volleyball private..." I say. "Could you please not tell anybody else?"

My question sure was quiet but clear to her. It would determine whether or not Eclair was a bitch or genuinely a nice girl.

Thankfully, she nods lightly, messing with her nails. "Of course not."

Suddenly, the conversation is put to the side by a knock on our door, sending Eclair, hushed Kiyoko, and me to flinch.

Kiyoko puts a hand on her chest, sighing in relief that the tension was interrupted. "Come in," she tells the person on the other side of the door.

Two boys are revealed; Nishinoya and Tanaka walk in, already dressed down in their "sleep clothes", which consisted of a white t-shirt and shorts. Could I talk any mess about their outfits? Nope! I was planning on wearing the same thing.

The buzzcut bow flutters his eyes at the sight of Kiyoko brushing her hair and quickly grows flustered. "L-ladies! Dinner is on the table." He spoke loud in nervousness. "Do you guys like your room?"

"Tanaka, we've been in here less than ten minutes. I'm surprised you're already gotten dressed!" Kiyoko speaks in a sweet tone that seems to mesmerize him. She finished up brushing the ends of her hair and dusts her hands off on her sweat pants, before looking towards the other two girls in the room: Eclair and I.

We nod and drop what we were doing to exit the room with her. If the odds were in my favor, Eclair wouldn't continue interrogating me during dinner. If so, she would soon find out about Koshi and me from one of the men that walked behind us, flustered they'd

Not soon after leaving, we arrive in the mess hall, where the volleyball club was spread around filling their plates and emptying them into their tummies.

The two boys leave our side to continue eating and we help ourselves to some plates. Today they served simple rice, roasted vegetables, and chicken. Nothing special, nothing utterly disgusting. As I'm picking up my food, I look over to the lunch table that the boys were scattered upon, keeping an eye out for any gray-haired men.

There he sat next to Daichi, eating small portions of the rice left in his bowl. 'Does Eclair's being here mean I'm not allowed to sit next to my boyfriend during dinner?' I think internally, finishing filling my plate.

Kiyoko helps herself to sit right next to Daichi, fitting in with the rest of the third years that sat on the bench next to the second years Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita. Across from them were the first years and the terrible two: Tanaka and Noya.

I stood uncomfortably at the end of the wooden table, looking over it to see if there were any empty seats I could eat in. All that looked back at me were eyes of curiosity and confusion.

It only took a few seconds of staring until someone was nice enough to mention my standing there.

"Y/n! Why don't you take my spot? I'm just about done anyway," Daichi tells me while he got up from the bench with the now empty tray. I look at Daichi, then Koshi, then to Eclair who was now walking towards the lunch table.

I of course didn't want her to take my spot, so I nod and bow politely, before switching places with Sawamura. He pays my shoulder gently, whispering, "you're welcome!"

Kiyoko and Koshi both smile at me, scooting over the slightest to make room for me. I say my thanks for my food and began picking at my rice, listening in on the boy's conversation.

"And then I spent my time practicing on the girls' team since I didn't have anyone else to practice with me. It sure felt like I was a part of their club!" Hinata told us, Eclair sitting down next to him, beginning to eat her food as well. "What about you guys? Did you guys have any rough stories before getting into volleyball?"

Tanaka cuts the air with his pointer finger, motioning for us to pause any conversation until he was done chewing. "I used to be a mega introvert before attending Karasuno!"

"Yup, Ryunosuke was just like Kageyama but worse," Nishinoya commented.

I raise a brow at the mention of that. Tanaka—a boy at the edge of having a breakdown?! I couldn't speak for myself. I too was a short-tempered girl towards the beginning of high school.

Kageyama scoffs, rolling his eyes at the mention of his name. "I'm not that bad, you know." We all knew that was a lie. As much as he denied it, Tobio struggled with his anger issues.

Eclair raises her hand slightly, swallowing a lump of rice. "Don't sweat it Kags, everyone has their embarrassing issues. For instance: I used to be such an obsessive girl in my first year. I'm sure I was a nuisance to many of the people in the volleyball club. Always talking in class and being a ditz was my specialty!"

"What about you, Y/n? Have you ever been involved in volleyball, or is this your first time being a part of a volleyball club?" Nishinoya asks me. At first, I thought of shaking my head and replying with a no, as if my memory of middle school had disappeared from my mind.

After thinking about what to reply with for a second or two, I nod my head slightly. "Hm...in junior high I was on the girls' volleyball team, but I was more of a bench warmer. I only joined the team to be closer to my friends, that's all."

"Aren't you friends with the captain of Seijoh 

boys volleyball club? You know, since you went to middle school with him?"

I look up to the girl who assumed such ridiculous things, Eclair. There she sat with her chopsticks in hand, lips parting slightly. It was crystal clear that she was trying to dig out my history and force me to tell the volleyball club about my personal life further than what I was comfortable with.

Knowing that I was uneasy, Koshi lays his hand gently onto my knee under the table, squeezing it ever so slightly. My heart beats in its cage, anxious at how many ways this conversation could go if I had said the wrong thing.

"...is that true?" Asahi asks, looking at his fellow teammates to observe their reactions. All of them looked just the same: betrayed.

"Eclair, it's best not to assume things about people you barely know," Koshi tells the girl in a monotone voice, making it obvious that he knew her intentions.

'Well, this got awkward fast.'

"It's okay. Uhm— I'm not friends with any members of Aoba Johsai's volleyball members. Where did you hear that?" I ask, setting down my utensils and clasping my hands together. Surely her reasoning has to be good if it meant ruining my very new relationships with most of the boys at the table.

Most of them sigh after my question, placing hands in their chests. "I thought you were a traitor for a second, Y/n! Eclair, you scared us half to death!" Noya whines.

The girl blinks a few times, shrugging. "I'm terribly sorry! I heard it from a girl that goes to Aoba Johsai, she says that Oikawa never stops talking about Y/n! She only knew by looking up your name and finding out she went to Karasuno."

"Seems you have a crush on Y/n, Eclair. You're almost addicted to looking into her past." Kiyoko suddenly made a remark, smirking as she drank a sip of her water.

The girl grows flustered very quickly, blushing. "No! Sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I'm only interested in what it's like to live without many boundaries. My father never lets me lay a finger on anything that could potentially ruin his vision of what his daughter should be," an innocent look is spread across her face as she says so.

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that Eclair." Yamaguchi makes a sweet comment, ignorant that she was guilt-tripping. I'd never pictured her to be such a manipulative girl yet calm and poised at once.

She nods, continuing to eat her food.

Though it was her fault entirely, Eclair was saddened that what was supposed to be an enjoying dinner turned out to be silent and awkward. I was growing extremely tired of her passive-aggressive attitude towards me, but losing sight of why I came to this training camp was not an option. I don't care how badly Eclair could hurt my feelings, I won't let it get to me.

-

Thank you so much for reading this chapter!! I know it's been so late since I've updated. Pls forgive me! I've just now started school again so things are keeping me from writing. Love you all as always,

- estrxlar

[helpinghanikan]

Stay outside the Line

X-men x Reader

Sum:  Just because a mutation is a gift, doesn’t mean it’s not a curse.

an: the mutation is anyone within certain distance of the reader will start to die. Could not think of an eloquent way to say that. 

Charles Xavier:

           Sitting just within the shadow of one of the massive trees you lean back into the sun. The breeze is comfortable, and the grass is soft. If it weren’t for you company it’d be too easy to lean back and nap right there and then.

           Although you’d never know the touch of his hand you were still connected to your man. A long stretch of twine, twenty-one feet exactly, is tied around your wrist. The other end was connected to Charles. Tied in the same fashion around your wrist but holding the string between his fingers. Without even meaning to he was caressing it; thumb rubbing up and down the length while the other hand held his book.

           Closest you would get as physical contact from Charles was mirroring his movements. Running your own thumb over your other hand, not looking down lest your break the illusion.

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

Erik Lehnsherr:

           At first he was just another face staring at you behind bullet proof glass. Both he and the other guy were talking to your host, mouths moving but nothing coming through on your end. Had it been a year or even a few months early you would have sat on your bed with knees to the chest. Wait for them to leave before being comfortable again.

           Now you just keep reading, barely glancing without interest to the glass.

           “What have you done to be locked in here?” The tall man’s voice could be mistaken for God’s by how it comes down from above. The speakers placed so you’d never be able to pretend like you didn’t hear anything.

           ‘Accidentally killed a bus load of people.’ Was the answer but you wouldn’t say it.

           “It’s safer for everyone. They’ll make sure I won’t hurt anyone while I’m in here.” You say instead, nodding to your host.

           “Did they tell you that after they locked the door?” He asks.

           Supposedly you weren’t in a prison. The incident on the bus was labeled a ‘possible gas leak of unknown substances’. You being the only survivor was sent to this facility to help with the trauma, and to find out how the same incident happened in the hospital.

           You had yet to stare at him right on. His gentle knocking “You don’t belong here, you will never belong here. We can help you, We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

           There was nothing else to do with your life but to agree. You wouldn’t be able to leave on your own. But the moment you’re out, how could they ever get you back in?

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

Raven/ Mystique:

         Over time you’ve learned how to push the poison deeper inside of you. Spending most days imaging it as a physical type of sand that covered you head to toe. Pressing and forcing that down into your shoes. Walking on it and keeping from spreading any further then a foot from your own body.

           Even with that amount of work there was still times that it slipped. When Pressure in your head and behind your eyes starts to push out, and a migraine seems preferable, you have to make a quick exit.

           Most people understand and don’t look twice when you run from the room. Others will give each other looks but only verbally ask what’s up in a whisper later on in the night. Then there was the few that understood but still followed. How do you tell the woman that you love to fuck off for a night? Probably in much nicer words, but for now you make an exit from the mansion, Raven keeping her distance but following anyway.

           “Get to the trees, little faster!” She almost yells the encouragement.

           “Please, Raven, Please stay back!” You yelled, both hands holding your head.

           It’d be romantic to think that you made it thanks to Raven’s encouragement. Whatever length of your nails, they dug into your scalp. The pressure was the definition of insanity at this point, stepping into the tree line and screaming without a sound.

           Thank whoever was up there that Raven knew better then to comfort you. Staying far enough away that the released poison never touched her. The poison obeyed it’s own laws and stayed within the twenty feet. In the dark of the night green grass turns brown and trees creak instead of scream as they die. Only one of said trees was small enough to be completely overtaken by it.

           You’re still drawing blood from your own head when that tree falls.

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

Peter Maximoff:

         The best way to describe Peter is like a kitten who just learned it could climb things. Try as you might to explain that it’s not a good idea to climb the drapes it will never listen. It will keep trying to climb no matter how many times you pull it away and tell it “no”.

           It’s not until there’s crashing in the middle of the night and few meows of pain that the little idiot will learn. This it the same situation you were in with Peter. No matter how many times you tell him to not get too close he always breaks the rule. Thinking that he is faster then the poison to run close enough to give a peck or a little slap on the backside before making it into the safe zone.

           Little kisses and touches were always nice, but it was playing with fire. Eventually he got too cocky, assuming he was faster than poison that tries too hard to protect you. He started to slow down to make the kisses longer and touches more frequent. When that didn’t come with real repercussions, he started going even slower. When his hand lingers too long on your back the repercussions hits him full force.

           It was hard enough to see the symptoms when you were younger. But as an adult, watching your man clutch his throat and fall to his knees was so much worse. With his head bowed you wouldn’t see the blood until he’d completely fall on his side, something that no one wanted to happen. Without thinking to you reached down to him, both hands open trying to do anything you can.

           You name is yelled from across the lawn. An overly harsh shout from your mentor who had never honestly yelled at you before. “Back away!”

           Charles could see the fear and shock in your eyes. But he also had the rest of his students to think about. ‘You have to go, now.’ The whisper in your mind is a world away from the panicked shouts, but it might have been better if he had just yelled at you.

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

Hank McCoy:

           You had to be used to secluded rooms by now; at least this one was less like a cell and more like a square fish bowl. The stool in the center and the little slot on the side were the only things giving off prison vibes.

           For most of the afternoon Hank has been focused on either his desk or a microscope or a computer. Every time he moves from one to another you look from your book, wait a few seconds to see whether he was looking at you, then return to the paragraph that you now had to restart.

           There was no one to blame but yourself for this problem. Hank had told you it was going to be boring, when he would have results he’d get you himself. Instead you went with him. “Not like I’m doing anything anyway,” You had said, telling him to wait a few minutes to step into your little security fish box.

           “It’s good enough for a trial run.” He says, probably to himself.

           The liquid he holds up is the same shade of blue as his fur. Over the past few weeks it has changed from several different colors. At one point it looked like blood, like the same color as the blood you had given him. The he had held within a smaller containment field. Even the smallest part of you gave off at least a little poison.

           “That’ll fix it? Or least tone it down?” You ask.

           “Supposedly, I used my original idea and added some new things. Last time it didn’t go as well.” He says, slightly looking down at himself. He had meant it to come off as a joke, instead he says it with some sadness underlining it.

           “Well with new stuff it must have improved, hand it over.” You move next to the little slot by the door.

           “Considering last time, I’m gonna test it on something else, first. Make sure it doesn’t do the same thing again.” Hank says.

           “What else are you going to test it on?”

           “Not you,” He says shutting it in the desk. “If I make you any worse that box probably won’t hold it.”

           It’s hard to pout and leave the room when you can’t leave the room. Instead just crossing your arms and pouting.

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

Jean Gray:

           Over a mile separates you and your woman. Hours spent in your little cabin in the corner of the estate, mostly sleeping, mostly hiding. This time it was pretending to sleep. Acting like the monstrous thunder and lightning outside wasn’t a window away from being in your room.

           The rest of the students were in the school itself. Having their thicker walls and each other to protect against the storm. The professor had offered you to stay inside the mansion during storms like this. But that safety would be in the basement, two floors below another living thing. Without any windows and set up with a less comfortable bed and none of your decorations. At least in the cabin you’d die around your things and the outside if the storm got in.

           ‘Hey’ Jean always had a way to find you. Mostly in your mind. ‘How are you doing?’

           “If I die do you think my mutation will leave with me?” You ask the darkness.

           ‘Don’t say that. It’s just a storm, nothing we don’t live with.’ Her soft laugh travels with her words. It warms the cabin and keeps away the lightening for the briefest of moments. ‘Do you want to come inside?”

           “No, I’m all snuggled up. I don’t think I’d make it to the mansion anyway.”

           Although the darkness gives nothing there’s a soft weight on your shoulder. A matching feel covering the extension of your back. Knees without a body pressed into the back of yours, arms and no being lay over your body. Their fingers in your hair. You were alone, but Jean make sure to be with you.

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

Logan/ Wolverine:

         Being around Logan was like being in another world. One where you were born without the poison smell and didn’t have to struggle to remember what another person felt like. First time you felt his hand on your shoulder it was like being slapped.

           “It’s like swallowing pennies. I can taste it, but nothing is coming out.” Logan had described it to you. His healing faster than the damage your poison could give.

           On the off chance that Logan is injured in your company, it’s very likely the poison would take advantage of that moment. But that didn’t stop you either of you. It was a possibility that was best not thought about.

           Instead you stay your course. Turning the school girl crush into a relationship through raw stubbornness and the ability to get drunk on someone into a two party affair.

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

Kurt Wagner:

         You were two people with the same want of seclusion but for different reasons. Just happening to catch a glance of each other when having the same idea of a hiding spot.

           Back then you were still new to the estate, being allowed to read and work away from others. Catching a glance of anyone and your scrambling to gather your books, coming off as more then just rude when you yell at them to stay back.

           Kurt was the one you didn’t have time to yell at to get away. A flash of blue, books in your arms, and he’s gone. Only a few times did he stay long enough for you to catch a better look at him. A face, blue skin and a tail that hung down from the branch he had been sitting on. That time he was far enough away to not be in danger, had you waved at him he would be. But only if he misread and took it as an invitation to come closer.

           It took weeks but you finally had the courage to wave. Just a small one that he returned. A small relationship made through small gestures.

[ofheroesandvillains]

To Catch A Ghost - B.Russo - 1

Billy Russo x assassin!reader

Words: 2k Warnings: None  Summary: Post-season 1 of the Punisher. Billy helps Frank defeat Agent Orange, but doesn't realise that his initial involvement has landed him right in the middle of an investigation nobody knows about. 

I’ve had a Billy fic in my head for a very long time but I was always worried that I wouldn’t do the characters justice. I’ve decided to just go for it anyway, but please let me know if it’s something you’d like to see more of - I don't want to waste time on it if no one likes it haha! 

(Not my gif, credit to the creator!) 

“Y’know, I always knew I’d see one of you on my doorstep someday.”

He smiled. 

“Mind if I come in?”

You stepped aside with a sigh. At least he had the good manners to toe his shoes off before stepping inside. It hadn’t snowed in a few days but the dirt road leading to your little cabin was still predominantly sludge and you weren’t in the floor-scrubbing mood.

“This is...cosy.”

He looked about the room the same way you always did. Builders took their tools home with them, but people like you and Coulson, you took home vigilance. There was no telling when work would sneak up on you, and after spying the file in his hand, it was clear that now was one of those times. 

“Thanks, renovated it myself.” 

You made your way to the quaint little kitchen that sat attached to the living room. Bottled water, unopened. You knew it was all he’d take, and he probably wouldn’t drink it anyway. Again, vigilance. Or paranoia, you had a hard time telling which was which nowadays. 

Either way, he accepted the bottle with a smile.

“You know I’m retired, right?” you asked, making yourself comfortable on the plush chesterfield. “Handed in my resignation right after-”

“Right after the Triskelion, yeah.” Coulson nodded, making his way over to the armchair beside you. 

Your eyes narrowed as he leaned back into the leather, far more comfortable than expected.

He dropped the file on top of the small coffee table and cracked open his bottle of water. To anyone who didn’t know you, you could be two old friends sitting down after years apart and reminiscing about the good times. Except, there was a reason you hadn’t seen each other in so long, and good times were few and far between in your line of work. 

“I know what you’re doing, Coulson.” His brows shot up innocently. “I’m not taking another job.”

“Of course not. You’re retired.”

A strained silence stretched long enough to make you squirm in your seat. Your eyes were burning a hole through the folder as it sat there staring back at you. Coulson pretended not to notice, instead drumming his fingers against the armrest and feigning interest in the wooden beams overhead. 

You rolled your eyes with a huff. 

“Damn it.”

You swiped the folder off the table and didn’t need to look over to know he was smiling.  

The first page seemed to be a profile, the layout familiar but obscured by pictures. The couch dipped beside you. 

“William Rawlins, former CIA.”

You stared down at the middle-aged man in the photo with a grimace. His hair was sparse and he had a milky eye, but it was the self-important look on his face that didn’t sit well with you.

“Want me to kill him?”

Coulson huffed in what might have been a laugh, had you thought him capable. 

“No need, he’s already dead.” With that said, he removed the photo from the folder and placed it on the table. Beneath it was another face you didn’t recognise.

“Colonel Ray Schoonover. Former marine, turned drug lord.”

“I always liked a challenge.” Your lips twitched up, only to fall as Coulson put that photo right beside Rawlins’.

“Oh, he’s dead too.”

You shot him an exasperated look.

“Well, who the hell am I killin’ here, Coulson?” 

“Not killing, investigating. You’re investigating him.” He pointed down to the profile.

There were two photos of one William “Billy” Russo. The first was a typical military headshot. With his uniform and short hair, he looked a lot more baby-faced than he did in the full body shot below. There, he was pictured in a tailored suit, his face sterner and older - a man who’d seen too much in his short life. 

But none of that negated the fact that William Russo was a handsome man.

Your brows furrowed as you scanned through his details, and you looked back over at Coulson with a frown.

“You want me to...babysit a former Marine?”

“Investigate,” he repeated.

“Right,” you drawled. “And there’s no one else available? Like, no one at all?”

A sudden seriousness settled over him, and he gave you that same genuine look that always managed to rope you into life-threatening situations. You cursed yourself for respecting him as much as you did.

“No one I trust as much as I trust you.”

“Don’t let Nat hear you say that.”

You shared an amused glance.

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought anyone else could do this job, kid.” He sighed. “I know you’re out, but this guy’s good at spotting a tail. Agent Ramirez gave me his report from a hospital bed.”

You snorted. “I’m no spy, Coulson. What makes you so sure I won’t end up in that same bed?”

Coulson smiled. “Ramirez was a spy, you’re a ghost. A little harder to catch one of those in my experience.”

“Just my luck Romanoff’s a public figure now, huh?” 

You mulled over the idea, eyes unconsciously locked onto the darkest pair you’d ever seen. His numbers were impressive, but you’d seen better. You had better. Alright, Russo.

“What exactly am I looking for?”

---------

“Rawlins was heavily involved in multiple illegal operations over east and on home soil. Our main concern, however, was his involvement with HYDRA.”

“Why is it always HYDRA?”

“We know that Rawlins funded Russo’s company, ANVIL. But we don’t know the extent of their relationship.”

“In other words, you don’t know if this Russo guy’s taken it upon himself to finish whatever Rawlins started with HYDRA.”

“We need you to get close to him, find out if he knows anything.”

“If he does?”

“Then congratulations, Nine. You get to kill someone after all.”

---------

The best way to lure someone in was to stoke their curiosity, then pretend you wanted nothing to do with them - at least in your line of work. Make him think he’s approaching you, not the other way around, Nat’s voice echoed in your mind.

The little hole-in-the-wall dive bar he frequented when he wasn’t entertaining company, wasn’t much of a stretch from what you’d usually enjoy. Admittedly, you didn’t have many friends, and your cabin was isolated enough to ensure that the only interaction you usually got was on your trip to the store for your weekly haul. 

But this...it was nice. It would be even nicer without the wasted frat boys in the corner eyeing you while they decided which one was macho enough to try his luck.

They weren’t regulars. You’d been coming here for almost a month and had never seen them before. More importantly, you hadn’t been seen before either. Not by Russo, at least. That would all change tonight if things went according to plan. 

Wednesday night, an early finish at the office. Too early in the week to go wild, but late enough to enjoy a night out. 

By now, Reggie - the old bartender - knew your usual order without asking, and what little backstory you’d supplied was firmly cemented in his mind. He even flicked the game on for you with a wink - you’d raised your glass in thanks.  

“H- ehem...Hey…”

Your eyes barely drifted from the TV. A cursory glance was enough to confirm that one of the fledglings had finally plucked up the courage...or was too wasted to stay away. 

“What?” 

He swallowed thickly, and you almost felt bad when you considered just how young he looked. Was he even legal? 

His friends laughed on the other side of the room and he scowled over his shoulder at them before turning back with a smile. 

“Mind if I buy you a drink?”

“Sorry, I don’t accept drinks from minors.”

Apparently insulted, he stood a little taller, chest puffed out and lips pursed.

“I’m not a kid.”

“I didn’t say you were a kid. I said you were a minor.”

You saw him roll his eyes from the corner of your eye. Yeah, not a kid, you mentally scoffed.

“Would you just accept the damn drink?” 

“No.”

“Why?” He sounded exasperated, and you were just about at the end of your rope. 

You finally dragged your gaze from the TV and the look you shot him must have held the right amount of warning, because it certainly had the desired effect. His shoulders fell and he took a slow and sheepish step back.

“Because,” you began, voice low. “I said so. Now, beat it, kid. I’m trying to watch the game.”

He scurried off with his tail between his legs just as someone slipped into the seat beside you. 

“Ouch.” 

It was barely a word, but the way it rolled off his lips was smoother than the drink you were nursing. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him, and you cursed his timing.

“Think he’ll walk it off?” He asked in good humour, before motioning to the bartender. 

You decided that the photographs didn’t do him justice. Even when he traded his suits for his sweaters, he still looked better than any mark you’d tailed before. 

“They always do.”

The glass of scotch passed to him snatched his attention, and he shot Reggie a grateful smile.

“Make it two, Reg.”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” 

A silence settled between you, interrupted only by periodic laughter and the chatter of commentators. You could feel his eyes on you. 

They were glued to your chest, a furrow in his brow and a small frown on his lips.

The best way to get his attention? Tell him about yourself without saying a word. Let him think he’s figuring you out. Men love thinking they’re smart.

“You okay?”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed and apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t...” he huffed an embarrassed laugh, before nodding toward your chest, eyes pointedly on your own. “You served?”

You glanced down at the ball chain that disappeared beneath the neckline of your shirt. 

“Good spot. I guess I’m not the only one.”

He smiled, something more genuine and proud than you’d expected from him, but it was quick to falter. It reminded you of whenever you would think of S.H.I.E.L.D. You’d done great things together, made friends you wouldn’t trade for the world, even saved that same world a few times. But knowing just how rotten the organisation was at the core left a bad taste in your mouth.

It tainted those memories and reminded you that everything they asked of you and everything you did for them was suspect. 

He recovered quickly. 

“Right you are.”

Your eyes narrowed as he took a swig of his drink.

“I’m thinking...Navy.”

He grimaced into his glass, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You’re just out here usin’ everyone’s pride as a punching bag tonight, huh?” He joked with a short laugh of his own. 

“Well, now you’ve gotta be Army!” 

“Marine Corps.”

Your brows shot up. “Nice.” 

He traced the lip of his glass with a small smile. It probably wasn’t the thing he was usually complimented for, but he certainly wasn't this bashful about his looks. 

A vibration shot through your leg and while knew your conversation with him was over sooner than you would have liked, it may have just been in your favour. 

He likes women, and women like him. You’re not going to be one of those women, and he needs to know that. Half the fun is in the chase, got it?

“Sorry, I gotta take this.” You slipped your phone out of your pocket and shot him an apologetic look. “It was nice meeting you though...”

His smile faltered and the hint of disappointment that flashed in his eyes was gone in a blink. 

“Billy,” he supplied. “Billy Russo.”

You shook the hand he offered you. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Billy Russo,” you said, slipping out of your seat with one final smile. 

His eyes trailed after you until you were out the door and out of sight, but he would think of you again that night. 

---------

“Have you made contact?”

“Sure have, and you have shitty timing, by the way.”

“Keep me posted.”

He hung up without another word and you sighed. 

“Love you too, Phil.”

---------

Part 2

[synvamp]

What You Do To Me - Part 1

Fair Game Week 2020: Day 5 - Hurt / Comfort

TW: relapse.

Qrow has a fight with Jimmy and goes back to his old ways… but this time there is a hand held out to lift him up and warm arms to hide in until the pain finally fades.

Addiction, relapse, truth… and hope. A ballad in two parts.

Part 2 is HERE

For @shitluckebi hurt / comfort. I’m hella nervous. Thanks for all your encouragement... Here we go!

Rating: M

---xxx---

 “Ruby?” Clover put the scroll to his ear, “What’s happened?” he sat up in bed.

 She didn’t waste time with small talk. It wasn’t a good sign, “It’s Uncle Qrow… he’s gone. He always comes back by ten but it’s… really late. We think he might have… gone to a bar…”

 Shit.

 “Ah, yes, ok. I’m getting up right now. Do you think he’s down in Mantle?”

 “Yeah, that’s where he goes to… walk. I’m… sorry to ask you but he’d be so mad if I told Winter or…”

 “Yes, of course, it’s fine. I’ll go right away ok? I’ll let you know as soon as I find him.”

“Thank you,” her voice sounded so small at the other end of the line. She was always the one to lead and guide, forced to be old beyond her years. At least this was one burden he could carry for her.

 Clover threw the covers off and grabbed some clothes; jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, hoodie… he pocketed the scroll and looked at Kingfisher. He can’t be in that much trouble? Surely?

No, this is QROW.

 He picked up the weapon, threw open his door and headed off into the night.

 He walked for about an hour, sticking his head into this bar and that. He didn’t stay long enough to ask if anyone had seen a gorgeous, wiry huntsman with perfect hair… there were only so many bars even licensed to be open this late and he was going to check every single one.

 The night kept getting colder and colder. Clover started to seriously worry. The longer Qrow had been away from alcohol, the lower his tolerance would be. If he drank like he used to and went out into the snow…

 He raced down street after street, checking every door way. Every alley.

 He’d nearly run out of names on the mental list he still carried from his patrolling days, when a deep gravelly voice cut through the icy air.

 “Well looky here, if it isn’t Atlas’s finest.”

 Clover slowly turned.

 At least he’s upright. Kind of.

 Qrow was leaning against a lamppost very shakily; his eyes bleary. One hand clutched a bottle; a large bottle that was only one third full.

 “Hello Qrow, fancy finding you here. You enjoying the Mantle night life?”

 “It’s shit,” Qrow waved his bottle for punctuation, brown liquid sloshing.

 “Well… that’s a shame I guess. How about we get you out of the cold?” Clover glanced at his scroll and pressed send on the message he had hopefully pre-typed for Ruby: Found him, he’s fine. I’ll take care of him tonight.

 “I’m not cold,” Qrow said, using his drink to toast the sky, “I don’t even feel it. That’s the point,” he grinned. It made Clover angry and sad in a way he hadn’t expected.

 I know it hurts but you can’t keep just killing yourself slowly... the kids need you… and I…

…have no right to put my needs on someone who is hurting this much.

 Come on, Clover.

Do better.

 “You want to head home? Seems like you’ve got enough there to keep you going,” Clover gestured to the bottle and tried to smile.

 “This? I haven’t even gotten started,” Qrow slipped off the lamppost, flailed a little then regained his feet.

 Think!

 “Maybe I could have a swig? It’s nicer to drink if you have company,” he looked at Qrow, his eyes pleading.

 “That’s where you’re wrong. Company is exactly what I don’t need. Now go away. You’re harshing my buzz,” Qrow made eye contact and then, slowly and deliberately, he lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped half of what was left.

 “Qrow…” Clover’s chest hurt like he’d been hit, “Come on… at least sit with me. I’ve come all this way just to see you. You wouldn’t leave a man hanging like that would you?”

 “Leave you… hanging? You!? Ha!” Qrow barked, his eyes flashing, “You’re the one who leaves people hanging! You’re all winky and tight pants but you don’t even follow through!”

 Clover had a lot of thoughts all at once but none of them were helpful.

 “I didn’t mean to do that, Qrow.”

 “That’s what I’m saying! You don’t even know what you do to me!” Qrow kicked the snow, nearly losing his footing again.

 Clover just stood, blinking. What you do to me…

 Oh, Qrow…

 Qrow waved his bottle and continued, “Why’d you even come down here anyway? Just wanted to see me… like this? Want to tell all your little Ace Ops friends what a fucking mess I am!? I’m sure Jimmy would love to know that he’s upset the great Qrow Branwen soooo much! Man lives to make fucking waves after all…”

 So that’s what this is about…

General Ironwood.

 It wasn’t surprising. Clover used to admire the General so much… he still trusted the man with his life but he seemed to be going too far down a dark path. What Qrow had gone through for the General… what he had suffered… He probably expected to be welcomed by a great man with a great plan… a leader at the height of his powers. But when Oz died, a big part of the General went too.

 It had been hard on all of them but Qrow… he’s suffered alone for too long.

 “Qrow… Qrow… I didn’t come because of the General…”

 “Yeah, yeah… you probably even believe that but he gets in your head. He makes you believe that what you’re doing is right but it’s not right! He’s a megalo… megala… he’s an asshole!”

 “Yeah he is,” Clover sighed, looking at his shoes.

 “What!?” Qrow growled as he slowly slid down the pole and sat heavily in the snow.

 “He’s an asshole. Sometimes,” Clover conceded.

 “He’s an asshole all of the damn time!”

 Clover approached slowly, feeling the rage in the air start to dissipate. Finally he was standing above the crumpled figure. One of the greatest huntsman in Remnant and his only weakness was that he cared too much. It was just so… unfair.

 Clover shook his head and sat his ass down in the snow. He reached out his hand, “Come on, give me a drink. I’m fucking freezing over here.”

 “I didn’t know you even knew that word,” Qrow looked at him unsteadily.

 “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

 Qrow scoffed, but he passed Clover the bottle.

 Well, I have no idea what this is but… bottoms up I guess.

 Clover took a big swig and burst into a coughing fit, spraying cheap scotch on the sidewalk.

 “What the hell Qrow!? How can you drink this?”

 “Lots and lots of practice,” Qrow sighed.

 Clover took another big hit and got it down this time. Every drop I drink is one he doesn’t.

 “You be careful…” Qrow looked at him with eyes full of haggard suffering, “This shit’ll kill you.”

 “I know.”

 The heavy silence engulfed them. The heat in Clover’s stomach just made the ache in his chest more obvious. Every time he looked at Qrow it just hurt.

 “So what now?” Qrow asked, taking the bottle back and clutching it to his chest.

 The red eyes looked at him, willing him to act… What do you want from me Qrow? I would do anything… Come on, Clover… “Would you… come back to my place maybe?”

 “Your place?” Qrow’s eyes narrowed. Not what he was waiting for, then.

 “I… left my tight pants at home because I thought I’d have to arrest you,” Clover joked, awkward.

 “Arrest me!?” Qrow laughed a mocking, loud and guttural laugh, “You and what army, Hot Stuff?”

 “It only took cuffs last time,” Clover tried a tentative smile.

 “You had the pants on last time,” Qrow looked at him, his unfocused eyes sliding over Clover’s face, his lips.

 “I didn’t know they were such a hit.”

 “Yes you did,” Qrow’s eyes cleared and just for a moment, Clover felt like he was really looking at him. Seeing genuine hurt and rage. “You’re a fucking show off.”

 Clover swallowed around the knot in his throat, “I guess I… did know. I’m sorry I never did anything about it. I’m gutless when it comes to men.”

 “Gutless? You got no taste! Who could say no to aaaallll this?!” Qrow gestured at his crumpled form, wet with dirty snow and spilled cheap booze.

 Clover shook his head. Even in the depths of his depression, Qrow could still manage a self-deprecating joke. It was the armour that kept the world at arm’s length. Such a habit that it was natural as breathing.

 Qrow’s words struck home but not how he’d intended them.

 I’ve never seen a man so strong and so broken. Burning with a fire of self-destruction but still spending every breath on those he loves… hiding his doubt. Hiding his fear. So that no one else will have to bear it.

No wonder Ruby is so selfless… so strong.

Who could say no to all this?

 Clover smiled, a sad and wistful smile, “I am struggling to restrain myself.”

 “If it’s so fucking hard to hold yourself back then why would you? I could sure as hell use a distraction right about now,” Qrow sighed heavily. He lifted the bottle and tipped it up, his throat opened and he emptied the last of it in a single gulp.

 “Qrow…” Clover felt the cold wind freeze the tears as they formed.

 “No, don’t say it. I know. I’m a fucking mess. Should’ve kept my damn mouth shut but I guess I must just hate myself that much.”

 Something deep inside Clover just snapped. He grabbed a fistful of Qrow’s waistcoat and yanked the man towards him. He pressed his lips to that scotch covered and stubbled face and focussed on kissing the pain away.

 Please Qrow… know how much I care about you. Let this tell you what I can’t say.

 Qrow returned the kiss; eager, desperate… then he suddenly broke away and lunged forwards, past Clover, onto his hands and knees, and threw up in the snow.

 Clover put his head into his hands and grinned.

 Out of everything that had happened tonight, this was the only thing that seemed right for them.

Typical Qrow.

 My beautiful bad luck charm.

 “Oh fucking hell, that is not nice,” Qrow huffed.

 Clover moved tactfully away as he finished emptying his stomach.

 Finally the cramping and groaning was over and Qrow sat back against his sturdy lamppost companion and sighed, “Thank you and goodnight.”

 “You going to let me take you home now?” “You want this,” he gestured to himself in all his drunken glory, “in your room? You sick fuck.”

 “I want you out of the cold and also, if I don’t have someone to hug then I may freeze to death so… your choice.”

Qrow looked at him, finally he seemed to decide. “I don’t think I can walk very good.”

 “I can help.”

 “You carry me and I will puke on you. With intent,” Qrow grumbled.

“Ok tiger, I’ll just…” Clover bent over and draped one of Qrow’s arms over his shoulders then he straightened up and lifted the other man to his feet. This way they could stumble along together without offending Qrow’s dignity any further.

 Slowly, with cold, wet hips bumping along, they wended their way back to the hanger and found a transport willing to take them to Atlas. By the time they got back to Clover’s room, Qrow was all but asleep.

 “Here we are…” Clover set Qrow down on the couch gently, “I’m just going to take your wet things off so you don’t get a chill, ok? Don’t panic.”

 “Imma not gonna panic I told you I want you bad…” Qrow muttered, eyelids fluttering to closed.

 Clover smiled and shook his head. Why now?

 “Well, you might have to wait until morning. But I promise that I’ll be here, ok? You can sleep in my bed… with me… keep me warm, ok?”

 “I’ll do more than ke… keep you warm…”

 Clover laughed, “Sure. Come on then…” he slowly peeled the wet clothes from Qrow’s shivering body. He left his underpants on, of course, despite them being wet from the snow. By the time he had finished the man was completely asleep, the gentle rasping in the back of his throat threatening to build into a snore.

 Oh Qrow… at least I have you here.

Clover slowly changed out of his own wet things and then carried Qrow to bed. He was shivering pretty hard now and it made him seem even slighter, more vulnerable.

 He would hate that I saw this…

I’m sorry Qrow. I just couldn’t leave you there.

 He placed Qrow tenderly in bed and lay down next to him. Am I allowed to hug him? Can a drunk person give hug consent? Of course not. Not bed hug consent.

Anyway, you kissed him. You’ve done enough for one night…

 Qrow groaned in his sleep and rolled over, his arm flailing. One hand landed on Clover’s chest and then the whole of Qrow followed it. Suddenly Clover was completely wrapped in freezing long, long legs with cold fingers clinging tightly to his chest. Qrow “hmpfhed” and nuzzled his face into Clover’s neck and his breathing immediately got deeper, more even.

 Well… I guess that’s that then.

 As he lay in the dark, surrounded by the smell of wet hair and whiskey, Clover smiled.

 Not the first date that I would have chosen but… I’ll take it.

 He swept one strong arm around Qrow’s waist and just held him against the world.

 No matter what, Qrow, I’m here.

 I’m here.

 ---xxx---

Part 2 is HERE

[meganshinsou-tm]

old man. (f)

☙ pairing: izuku x reader

☙ theme:  pro hero deku/meeting the parents

☙  cw/tw: profanity, low-key anxiety, shitty parent, bullying from parental figure, comfort, slight mature content at end.

☙  a/n-request:  Deku goes to meet his S/O others parents for the first time and her dad is a DICK and makes all sorts of nasty comments, and even though she's used to it, it still bothers her. So after they awkwardly leave Deku decides to show her how beautiful, special and amazing she really is.

“Hey Zuku, if at any time you feel uncomfortable we can leave.”

Izuku’s green eyes blinked at you as you walked up the steps of your parents home together. He was slightly confused as to why he’d even feel uncomfortable at all. He was nervous, that was no lie. This was the first time he was meeting your parents, after the two and a half years of you dating. It took this long mostly because you simply refused to do so and your parents were also very busy people with their jobs. They would go from town to town and country to country, so they weren’t around much, making Deku and your friends the only family you had.

Izuku softly smiled and turned to you, taking your face in his scarred muscular hands and brushing your cheeks with his thumbs. “If they’ve raised such a wonderful daughter like you, then how bad could they be?”

You half smiled at your boyfriend, it wasn’t very convincing and not what he was expecting. The hero knew very little about how your parents acted but he would soon find out and along with that, he’d find out why you kept him from meeting them for so long. You swallowed harshly and touched Deku’s hand on your cheek, leaning forward and up on the tips of your toes to place a kiss to his cheek, making him smile and making you smile even bigger. 

The two of you had been dating since the middle of your 2nd year at UA and since then Deku really hit a growth spurt. He was tall and muscular, not too much like his mentor, more like a leaner version of him. After graduation the two of you moved into your own apartment together and everything was so wonderful. At least up until your parents made one of their monthly calls to you and Deku answered it obliviously. That immediately spurred a ‘meet the parents’ situation.

Izuku released your face and took your hand as you both faced the door and you lightly knocked on it. It took a minute but finally the door opened and there stood your mother. A relieved sigh left your lips and you relaxed, of your parents your mother was the one you tolerated the most and the one who wasn’t such – well an ass.

“My baby! You’ve gotten so big,” she cheered and quickly wrapped her arms around your neck.

You grunted from the force of her body colliding with yours, patting her back as you hugged and mentioned that your air supply was running short. She quickly withdrew from you but held your face in her hands as kisses peppered each cheek and her loving eyes looked you over.

“I can’t believe it’s been an entire year (Y/N), I missed you so much! You’re even more beautiful than ever, I can’t wait to hear about everything that has happened.”

You smiled and wrapped your hand around her wrist, “Thank you mom, I missed you too. Uh – I brought Izuku finally!”

Your mothers matching (e/c) eyes wandered over to your boyfriend as she squealed, her hands leaving your face as she held her arms open. Deku chuckled nervously and opened his own arms as your mother went in for the hug. When she pulled back she placed a firm pat to his chest.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Izuku, you’re even more handsome than (Y/N) explained!”

“Oh – uh thank you Mrs. (L/N), it’s really nice to finally meet you as well!”

Your mom ushered the two of you inside finally. After removing your shoes the three of you walked into the lavish and open kitchen. Deku’s green eyes took in just how big and nice your family home was. He knew your parents were very wealthy and hard workers but he never figured they’d live so extravagantly. You were the complete opposite - very humble and modest. When looking for apartments you wanted something that was small and quaint. “I don’t need a big home to come to at the end of the day Zuku, I just need you,” were your exact words.

You motioned for Deku to sit down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter with you while your mom made everyone a glass of green tea. Your hand found Izuku’s under the counter and you pulled it to rest in your lap, he slightly smiled and brushed your skin with his thumb.

“So mom, where is he?”

“He?” Deku thought.

“Oh, your father is in his office on the phone, he should be out shortly. Dinner will also be done in a few minutes. Izuku do you like curry?”

Your boyfriend nodded eagerly and expressed his love for any kind of food. The three of you sat in the kitchen together, conversing and catching up. Deku informed your mother of the job he was taking at one of the best hero agencies in Japan while you decided on going to college to earn your medical degree. You did go to UA, but you weren’t in the hero course like Izuku, instead you were in the general studies department. Your quirk was more suited for healing and going the route of being a doctor was very fitting for you. How you ended up with one of UA’s top students and most promising upcoming pro-hero was beyond even you.

You smiled as Deku talked with your mother. They seemed to connect and hit things off, which was a massive relief to you. You weren’t exactly worried about your mother, it was your father you weren’t looking forward to seeing. That man was something else and someone that you could care less about. You only tolerated him because he was in fact still your father. He raised you in a nice home, gave you everything you needed, and made sure you went to the best school. He was a decent man but the way he showed you ‘love’ and ‘words of wisdom’, were somewhat harsh and just downright mean. You hoped that at least in the past year your father had some kind of revelation and changed his ways, but there was a fat chance of that happening.

The familiar sound of an office door opening and closing was heard, followed by thunderous footsteps walking into the kitchen. Your heart was pounding as you squeezed Izuku’s hand tight in your lap, cutting off his words and making him look at you with concern.

“Hey, you okay,” he asked and touched your face.

“Well, if it isn’t my only child. It took you long enough to finally come around again.”

That same nonchalant and cold voice that you despised so much and had the pleasure of not hearing for so long filled your ears and made you bite your lip in frustration. Deku turned to look behind the both of you where your father stood, casually scrolling through his phone and not granting either of you a single glance. Your boyfriend quirked a brow and let his hand fall from your face as you both stood from your seats. Deku sensed a weird tension between you and your father, making him protectively wrap arm around your waist.

“Oh great, you’re finally done! Look honey, (Y/N) brought over her wonderful boyfriend, Izuku Midoriya.”

The man before you locked his phone and placed it in his back pants pocket, attention now on you and Deku. His dark eyes scanned each of you closely and quirked a brow as he curled his lip.

“(Y/N), you couldn’t be bothered to wear something nicer? For god’s sake we haven’t seen you in so long and this is the first time we’re meeting this boyfriend of yours. You figured you’d have a little more pride in your appearance. Especially being that the one courting you in on his way to the top!”

You felt Deku’s hold on you tighten and his jaw clenched. Your hand came up and rested on his chest, making him look at you. A false smile grew on your face as you looked back at your father, greeting him politely along with introducing Izuku. The man walked up to you and Deku, there were definitely no hugs coming from him! Holding out a hand to your lover, Deku took it, his arm still around you.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. (L/N)”, he stated with a confident tone.

You were awed by how Izuku didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by your ‘doting’ father. He stood only a few inches taller than the green-haired man but still, your old man could make anyway shake in their boots, even men bigger than him. He was just scary to look at, his expression always devoid of any emotion and his tone deep and commanding. He was a bit bulkier than Deku and emulated power and hard worker.

“It’s nice to finally meet the future #1 hero, I never in a million years would’ve believed that my own kid would be the one to catch the eye of someone like you. What did she do, bribe you until you finally said yes,” your father chuckled.

Anger stirred inside of Izuku, his fingers holding your hip curling tighter. He was appalled by the mans statement, his own heart breaking that anyone, your own father, would assume such a thing. Another reassuring brush of your fingers over his chest had the dark storm in his eyes clearing, body going lax again.

“No sir, in fact, I’m the one that chased her. I was stunned and completely surprised when she agreed to go out with me. She was the top of her class and one of the most beautiful and genuine people that I’ve had the privilege of knowing, I’m lucky that I even got a chance with her before someone else came along.”

Before your dad could give another low blow, the kitchen timer went off. You looked over your shoulder to see your mother hold up her hands. 

“Foods ready!”

Dinner went over better than you thought it would, thankful for the food keeping everyone’s mouths occupied for the majority of it. After, your mother served dessert and your parents and Izuku talked back and forth. You’d only chime in if you were directly questioned and your responses were short and sweet, doing everything in your power to avoid any negative attention from your father.

“So, you got accepted into that college? Can’t say it’s the first choice I had for you. If you wouldn’t have grown lazy and worked harder on your combat training, then you could’ve easily made it into the hero course and eventually make the big bucks, instead of just settling for some mundane job. I guess you got lucky though, having such a promising hero fancy you. If you even happen to get lucky enough to marry him then you can just give up on your job like everything else and have him care for you huh?”

Izuku’s utensil slipped from his fingers as your dad blatantly insulted you. The entire night the man had done nothing but disrespect you and make you feel like utter shit and he was getting tired of it. Next to him you’d grow smaller and smaller in your seat from the numerous blows.

“Not everything is about money, and I’m not that kind of person,” you quietly replied looking down at your plate.

“You may not be the type that’s after money, but you are lazy. You’re my daughter, I would know,” your father chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

You didn’t reply at all. Only sat there looking so defeated and it broke Izuku’s heart. How could someone, your father, talk so terribly to you. He didn’t know the hard work and dedication you put into your studies at UA, the countless nights you went without enough sleep or adequate food. Deku would constantly have to remind you to take a break, to ‘be lazy’ once in a while. You were a hard worker, more than anyone in his own class, even him. The hero quickly realized the reason you kept him from your parents for so long, more so kept him from your father and he couldn’t help but feel responsible for you having to face them again. You were utterly embarrassed and broken down before him and he couldn’t take another minute of it.

“Hey sweetheart,” he spoke softly, hand resting on your thigh with a gentle squeeze, “How about we go home?”

You looked up and at Izuku, green eyes staring back with a serious and apologetic face. Not saying a word, you nodded and you both stood from your seats. Deku leaned over the table and shook your mother’s hand, thanking her for the wonderful food and for the kindness she had shown. Your father had yet to catch up on what was happening.

“Wait – are you two leaving so soon,” he asked standing from his chair.

Deku grabbed your hand and turned to face the poor excuse of a man and nodded.

“Yes sir, you see I refuse to sit here any longer and subject your daughter to anymore bullshit that falls from your mouth. Unfortunately I can’t say that we’ll ever have the pleasure of meeting again Mr. (L/N), I’m sorry. If you even care, you can rest assured that I will take care of your her. I’ll make sure she knows every single day just how amazing and beautiful she is. How incredible her skills and accomplishments are. I’ll remind her how lucky I am to have her, not the other way around. I’ll build her up and support every choice she makes! I can only hope to be lucky enough to call her my wife one day!”

You and your parents stood there in shock at Izuku’s words. The green-haired man turned on his heels, pulling you behind him without another word and you were both gone. The drive home was quiet, you were grateful for Izuku standing up and defending you but you were so ashamed and embarrassed by what he had to see. At least now he knew who your father was and understood why you never wanted to see him. Once you were home Deku walked over to your door and opened it. You gave him a sad look, making him try to muster up a smile as he touched your face.

“Hey beautiful.”

You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh so the sound you made was a mixture of both as you fell out of the vehicle and into Izuku’s arms. He held you close and tight burying his face into your hair as you buried yours into the crook of his neck. One of his large, protective hands rubbing your back in an effort to comfort you as he felt your body tremble with quiet cries.

“T-thank you Izuku. I love you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me (Y/N), I only stated the obvious. We never have to see that man ever again if you don’t want to. I only ever wish to see you happy and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, keep you happy and I’ll never let anything like that happen again.”

You nodded, face still buried into him and fingers not losing their grip on his clothes. This man was what kept you grounded all these years and what also kept you afloat from drowning.

“I love you, more than anything in this world, you’re the most precious thing in my life, please always remember that. Now, how about we get inside and I give you a bath?”

Pulling away from the hero, you smiled and kissed his freckled cheek. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing and wiping away your tears.

“That sounds great Zuku.”

All throughout your bath, Izuku showered you in love and compliments. His hands pampered your entire body from head to toe - rubbing, massaging and cleaning. He always treated you like a princess before but now, you were being treated like a queen. You quickly forgot all about your asshole dad, like you always did. Soon you found yourself straddling Izuku’s lap in the bathtub. His hands running up and down your sides, making warm water cascade down your skin as you kissed each other feverishly.

You hummed as his lips left yours and started to press kisses down your jaw and neck, feather-light and sweet. Deku flattened his palms on the curve of your back, pulling you closer to him and making your chest press against his. As he kissed, his emerald eyes stayed opened to gaze at your damp skin and body, lashes softly tickling you. He kissed the valley between your breasts and pulled away to look you over.

“You’re so beautiful baby.”

You smiled, running your fingers through the soft green tresses you loved so much as Deku started to cup each of your breasts in his hands. His thumbs gently brushed over your nipples causing a delighted sigh to escape from your mouth. You looked down as he kissed and nipped at the mounds, kneading each one attentively. Memories flooded back of how your first time together Deku was a complete and utter mess, he held you close and spoke reassuring words even though he was beet red all over, stuttering and trembling. Over the years he learned your body and what made you unravel. He treated you with the utmost and unconditional love and care, making sure your needs were always met. Izuku was nothing but confidence now and you adored that most about him. He knew he could pleasure you and make you feel beautiful with his actions and words.

“Zuku, can we go to the bed? It’s a little cramped in here, you’re so massive.” You questioned breathlessly with a smile.

Izuku returned the expression and nodded, soon you both exited the tub and dried off. Quickly the male tossed you over his shoulder, making you squeal as he playfully smacked your ass and sprinted to the bedroom with you. He then slung you back over his shoulder and onto the bed, hovering over you and crawling in between your legs. Your hands reached up to cup Izuku’s face as you happily kissed each other. His lips lovingly enveloped yours, warm and soft as his hands caressed every inch of your body.

“Izuku, hold me please.” 

You requested soft and quietly, lip pouting out and sweet eyes blinking at him.

Immediately Izuku sat up on his knees, pulling you up with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, hanging delicately from his shoulders. His arm wrapped around your back and pulled you close into his chest as his other hand held your thigh to his hip. You continued to kiss each other, Deku aching to show you his love and how beautiful he thought you were and you were eagerly accepting it all. His mouth trailed more loving kisses down your jaw and neck. Teeth dragging and nipping at the juncture of your collarbone. His shimmering green eyes looked up at you under his lashes as you caressed the freckles on his cheeks and he smiled at you.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you. Tonight, tomorrow night and for the rest of my life.”

[atinytokki]

Distant Daylight

v. A Royal Parade 

“Gunho, you’re not even listening to me.”

“Yes I am,” Gunho whined back, lowering his voice when Yunho shot him a warning glance. It was just after midnight exactly a year after arriving at the orphanage, and Yunho and Gunho had become accustomed to sneaking around at night in order to meet each other unsupervised.

Tonight they huddled in one of the larger food pantries while Yunho tried to show a bored Gunho some self defence moves. 

“No you weren’t, you were nodding off,” Yunho argued back. “Come on, what would you rather be doing?”

Gunho pouted at him and flopped over. “I just want to check on Mousey and make sure he didn’t get caught in a trap. He wanders off if I’m not watching him.”

“Mousey?” Yunho deadpanned. “I thought I told you to bring him outside and let him go.” The orphanage was not a very good place to keep pets, especially rodents that may or may not be carrying diseases.

“But it’s cold out there,” Gunho whispered sadly. “I don’t want him to freeze.”

The two of them bickered similarly most nights, so much so that Yunho was worried about the fact that they were becoming so different from each other.

Gunho argued Yunho was growing too harsh and so Yunho told him to keep him soft, a charge that was easier said than done, especially when Yunho was practically living a double life.

“It was warm enough for Sangwoo to sneak out and come back with snacks—“

“Sangwoo, Sangwoo, Sangwoo,” Gunho singsonged. “He’s all you ever talk about.”

“Well, you’re all I talk about when I’m with him,” Yunho spluttered defensively. 

“So he’s part of our family now?” Gunho crossed his arms and glared at him. “I thought we weren’t getting adopted.”

“It’s not like that,” Yunho sighed, putting his hands out in a placating gesture. “We have to stick together with the older boys, adopting couples can’t be trusted. You heard what they did to Sangwoo. It’s better to be a part of the orphan family.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore,” Gunho spat in return, getting to his feet and running back to his room. 

Yunho called after him quietly but closed his mouth when footsteps from the opposite end of the hall grew closer. Instead, he closed himself back in and sat among sausage links and fruit crates until the late night wanderer passed by.

They had never fought this bad before.

It was always gentle Gunho and his quiet complaints as he tried to keep up with all the fighting techniques Yunho was showing him. 

When the hall had been quiet for long enough, Yunho snuck back into bed, stomach tied in a knot and tears threatening. 

What was he doing wrong?

...

“Your stance is weak. Fix your footing.”

Yunho blinked away a daydream and turned his ankle until it was the way it was in the correct position. 

“Better,” Sangwoo said with a nod. He was usually quite a blunt teacher, so this amount of encouragement from him meant something was up.

“You seem different,” Yunho grunted, throwing a punch that was dodged. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not me, it’s you,” Sangwoo responded, dodging again. “You’re distracted by something.”

So he was accommodating to Yunho’s mood.

Yunho’s surprise left him vulnerable to a kick that he barely avoided. 

“Gunho is just cranky these days,” he admitted. No point in holding onto it. “We’ve been growing apart and there’s just—“ he blocked a right hook. “—not much I can do about it.”

“I see,” Sangwoo hummed, throwing up a hand to pause for a water break. “That’s bound to happen when you’re separated, even if you’re just across the hall from each other.”

Yunho nodded in defeat. At this rate, he and Gunho would be strangers by the time he could age out of the orphanage.

“There might be a way for you to meet each other without sneaking around, though,” Sangwoo offered, handing him a cup of water to go with it. “The royal family is travelling here to give a speech at the festival. Probably about the riots that have been going on the past couple of years.”

“My parents died in one of those,” Yunho admitted quietly. He surprised even himself, considering he hadn’t spoken about it since the event, a year of quiet anger and disbelief. “They weren’t even participating, they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sangwoo rubbed his back gently and muttered some words of encouragement. “Well, if it won’t distress you too much, some of the orphans here have been invited to see the processions. Kind of ironic, if you ask me.”

“Why’s that?” Yunho asked, shaking himself out of his musings. 

Sangwoo lowered his voice like he was sharing the juiciest new gossip. “The King is hardly ever seen with his own children. The crown prince rarely makes public appearances, always off doing something or other in the military ranks, and some of the caretakers think it’s because he’s out of favour with his parents. Then there’s the younger prince who never makes public appearances at all. Word has it he’s deformed, some congenital malformation of the limbs. So they keep him hidden away in the palace.”

“Trapped,” Yunho nodded in sympathy. “Sort of like us.”

“Well, at least he’s trapped in luxury and riches,” Sangwoo laughed. “Imagine having servants to do whatever you tell them.”

“And every gourmet chef at your call to cook some delicacy for you!” Yunho chimed in with a smile.

“The most exquisite fashion in your wardrobe and all kinds of balls and parties to wear it to!”

“Grand gardens and greenhouses to explore!”

“Prize horses to ride through the country!”

“Swimming pool-sized bathtubs with rose petals!”

“An ancient library and the best tutors money can buy for education!”

“A golden crown on your head and a floor so shiny you can see yourself in it!”

“And the King and Queen as your parents, tucking you into a warm, comfortable bed every night!”

Yunho paused at this and tilted his head pensively. “Well, I’d rather not have the King and Queen as my parents. Mine were really great.”

“Mine too,” Sangwoo conceded. “And any parents that hide you because they don’t like how you look aren’t fit to be parents.”

Yunho hummed in agreement and then considered Sangwoo’s proposal. “I can bring Gunho if I go with you?”

Sangwoo nodded.

“Alright then. It’ll be nice to get out of this place for a little while.”

...

Just as planned, Sangwoo, Yunho, and Gunho were all present on the day of the parade. They stood inside the headmaster’s office with a chosen few of seven other boys, dressed nicer than they ever had been before, awkwardly waiting for their ride to arrive while the caretakers went around fixing their hair and straightening their posture.

Gunho was uncomfortable around Sangwoo, having never properly met the boy other than through Yunho’s stories and lessons.

Yunho was a much better student for Sangwoo than Gunho was for him, but the point of this trip was to try to spend some time with his brother outside of the orphanage for once, so he did his best to smile confidently at him and ease the atmosphere.

“Remember you absolutely must be on your best behaviour,” the Headmaster cautioned them. “Show the utmost respect to the royal family at all times. Smile and bow when you’re told to.”

As they sat in the back of a cart and watched the trees and houses go by, Sangwoo wiggled out of his tie when the caretakers weren’t looking and tossed it out onto the road. “This is stupid. Dressing us up like a bunch of dolls and showing us off as if they haven’t been overworking and underfeeding the lot of us.”

Yunho agreed verbally but couldn’t help but revel in how shiny his shoes were and how happy Gunho looked bouncing in his seat.

“It’s alright Sangwoo,” he encouraged the older boy. “You’ll be out of the orphanage in no time.”

“Mark my words,” Sangwoo muttered. “I will.”

The streets were crowded and bursting with energy, people standing to one side or another and tripping over each other for a good vantage point.

The group of orphans and their caretakers stood in the square where the parade was set to end. Yunho didn’t really understand why there was a whole entire parade involved in the harvest festival until he was told that the King was supposedly coming to address the riots, but sparing no expense seemed like something the royal family would do anyway.

They were indeed as grand as he had imagined they would be, waving with pleasant smiles and sparkling jewels.

Their attire was probably toned down from the usual splendour a palace celebration would afford, but it was still more beautiful than Yunho had ever seen.

The King’s voice was mellifluous yet strong and he drew the crowd in with his promises and his apologies before grounding them with admonition.

“I know why the people are in chaos here,” he said in a commanding tone. “And I assure you, the royal family and our enforcers have your best interests at heart. Focus now on your harvests and your families. Celebrate the season together and leave this unrest behind you!”

Mixed reactions were had among the crowd but the King’s own men got the festivities in full gear quickly enough with fireworks, music, and traditional foods.

It was the most fun Yunho had had in a long time, even if he didn’t understand half of what the King was saying.

In the chaos and colour of the parade, Yunho lost sight of Sangwoo. The caretakers headcounted the boys as they collected them, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Must have made a run for it,” one of them said to another as they loaded the orphans in the back of the cart. Night was swiftly falling, the royal family had gone, and the continuing frolic was likely to take a turn for the wild with the cover of darkness. “No use looking for him.”

Yunho shuddered and held Gunho close the rest of the ride back. 

“I’m sorry about what I said that night,” Gunho whispered, leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it.” There was still some coloured dust stuck to him and it made him want to sneeze.

Yunho petted his hair to communicate that he understood. It was hard for Gunho these days, without Yunho to help him through school and with bullies breathing down his neck at every turn.

“And about Sangwoo... I’m sorry for that, too,” Gunho added even more quietly.

Tears stung Yunho’s eyes. “I should’ve expected him to run with the way he was talking earlier,” he admitted, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “It was the perfect opportunity.”

“I think he’ll be back,” Gunho chirped optimistically. “He’s always ended up back at the orphanage, if all your stories about him are true.”

Yunho’s smile was wistful. “I just wish he would’ve told us so we could go with him.”

“And leave Mousey behind?” Gunho gasped, eyes shining innocently. Yunho chuckled and dried his own unshed tears.

He thanked Sangwoo, wherever he was, for bringing him and his brother back together, however short lived.

“Don’t worry, we won’t leave Mousey behind,” he sighed, turning to face his brother fully. “But whatever happens, I’m going to get us out for good one day.”

...

A/N: Sorry it’s been so long without an update for this one, but stay tuned for more spinoff chapters and of course main series ones as well ;) Don’t forget to comment!

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[keanubot]

I Love You Like The Sun Came Out (Keanu Reeves/Reader) Chapter 3

sorry for another bit of a wait on this one, thank you all so much as usual for being so patient 💖 i promise i have so much planned for this fic its ridiculous, so if i’m ever a bit late with the posting it doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to write it, don’t worry.

warnings for this chapter: none

You start packing immediately after hanging up the phone, not even bothering to get dressed as you pull things from your closet and shove them into your travel bag. As you pack, you attempt to process exactly what’s even happening right now; you’ve really been asked by Keanu Reeves himself if you want to move into his house. Two weeks ago you hadn’t even wanted this job, and now suddenly you’re so incredibly grateful that you got it. In what other world would you get an opportunity like this to get away from your roommates and actually have some time to yourself for once? You’re already fantasizing about all the rehearsing you’ll get to do without ears pressed against doors, without being told “Well, what if you did it this way instead?”, without constantly feeling like you’re in a never-ending competition.

It feels amazing.

You quickly shower and pack up your bathroom items, then head downstairs with your bags and peek into the kitchen to see what awaits you. All three of your roommates are sitting at the kitchen table, although only Becca and your third roommate Hayley are talking; Alexis sits across from them on her phone, clearly ignoring the conversation. Hayley and Alexis are the ones who haven’t spoken to each other in at least a month after Hayley won a role they’d both gotten to the final auditions for. You’ve never seen such dramatic passive aggressiveness in your life.

You place your bags quietly by the front door and then head back to the kitchen, not wanting to announce your news until you absolutely have to; you know there’s going to be a lot of questions and you don’t even know how to answer them at this point. No one talks to you when you enter, so you fill up the kettle and start preparing your morning cup of tea, hoping they don’t notice when you take the whole box of tea bags down from the cupboard so you can add it to your bag. You’re the only one who drinks it anyway.

Speaking of which…you can’t remember if Keanu has a kettle at his house. As soon as the water is finished boiling you add it to your mug and quickly drain the rest in preparation to take it with you.

Just as your tea is finished steeping, Becca gets up from the table, “Well, I’m going for my run.”

“Have fun.” Hayley replies, looking down at her phone.

Alexis briefly looks up to give Hayley a dirty look before going back to whatever she’s doing. God, you can’t wait to get away from this.

Becca leaves the room and about ten seconds later she rushes back, expression confused, “Who’s leaving?!”

“What?” Alexis finally speaks, putting her phone down, “Leaving?”

“Someone’s bags are in front of the door,” Becca explains, voice anxious, “Are one of you guys moving out because a group meeting definitely wasn’t called and if you’re leaving without giving us a warning, that’s fucked up.”

You try not to roll your eyes, taking a sip of tea before licking your lips and sighing, “They’re mine,” everyone looks at you and you can practically hear them gasping internally, “I’m not moving out though, I’m still paying rent. I’m just gonna go stay somewhere else for a few weeks.”

Becca looks at you as if you have three heads, “Somewhere else? Where?”

Before you can answer, Hayley chimes in, “Somewhere closer to Keanu’s house? Because of all the driving?”

You’re honestly surprised that someone’s been paying attention, and Hayley’s assumption gives you a new way out of all the dreaded questions.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding, “One of the other girls from the housekeeping service said I can stay at her house for a little while. She’s, um, going away for a bit. A vacation or something.” For an actress, you’re not the most amazing liar, but they seem to be buying it, “It’s only about a ten minute drive from Keanu’s.”

“Must be a nice house, then.” Alexis mutters bitterly, and you can feel her jealousy radiating from where she’s sitting; cleaning Keanu’s house was one thing, but moving somewhere nicer to do it? She’s annoyed. As mean as it sounds, her irritation makes you feel a bit smug.

“I’m gonna take the kettle with me, if you don’t mind,” you’re not sure why you’re asking for permission – you’re the one who bought it after all – but you feel bad for lying.

Becca waves her hand, “Oh, go ahead, you know none of us use it.”

“So, you’ll still pay your part of the rent? Next Friday?” Hayley asks, and you nod.

“Yep, don’t worry about it, I got it covered.”

Just as you say this, your phone rings – Keanu’s assistant. You excuse yourself from the kitchen and walk to the front door to escape the listening ears behind you. Your call is brief – she tells you that your rental is ready and you plan for it to be waiting outside your apartment as soon as possible.

She also tells you that Keanu actually did end up picking it himself, which admittedly makes you nervous as hell.

-----

An hour later, after scrolling through some casting calls and responding to a few e-mails, a car pulls up outside. You’re the first to see it, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach when you see how nice it is; it’s definitely expensive, and definitely not like anything you’ve ever driven before.

“Whose car is that?” Hayley is beside you before you can even process everything, and you splutter a bit before replying.

“Um – uh, mine, I think,” you get up and slide into your shoes, eyes glued to the car, “It’s a rental.”

“How the fuck can you afford an Audi?!” Alexis asks, suddenly standing on the other side of you looking confused.

Before you can reply, Becca appears in the doorway, back from her run with a shocked expression on her face, “Is that for you?”

You really hate attention, absolutely despise it, actually – which certainly isn’t what you’d expect considering the profession you’ve chosen – and all the eyes of your prying roommates being on you makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable. You pick your bags up off the floor, slipping past Becca and walking out to the front step.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon.” you say, with every intention to do the exact opposite. You turn around and walk quickly to the car, the driver getting out and helping you put your bags in the trunk. You don’t look back at your roommates, knowing full well they’re already talking about you.

The drive to Keanu’s house is relatively quiet – you don’t really know what to say and you’re also extremely distracted by how luxurious the interior of the car is; Alexis had said Audi, and your very, very limited knowledge of cars tells you that it’s a pretty high quality brand. It’s sleek, with a black exterior and interior, and the number of gadgets on the dashboard is already overwhelming – and you’re not even the one driving.

The driver does say a few things throughout the drive, telling you that all your necessary information for the insurance has already been forwarded by Keanu’s assistant. According to him, you have the car for 2 months, which is more than enough time to get your car fixed. It can’t be cheap to rent a car this nice for that long, and you spend most of the drive simply marveling at Keanu’s generosity.

You pull up to Keanu’s house and quickly sign a few documents for the driver, who hands you the keys and then gets out to walk over to the other car in the driveway – his associate. You watch them back down the driveway before disappearing down the road.

And that’s it. Suddenly, you’re sitting completely alone in a beautiful car in front of a beautiful house that you will be living in for the next few beautiful weeks. It honestly feels like a dream you hope you never wake up from. It’s crazy to think that you’d initially never even wanted to apply for this job. Hoo boy.

You carry your bags inside and immediately come to the realization that you have no idea where you’re sleeping. Obviously Keanu’s bedroom is out of the question, so you know there are two guest rooms to choose from. There’s a small one on the left side of the house, closer to the garage, and there’s one across the hall from Keanu’s room, a lot bigger with a jacuzzi in the en suite bathroom. The choice is pretty easy, so you bring your stuff to the room and start unpacking.

It’s been tempting the past two weeks to try out one of the beds, but obviously it had been incredibly inappropriate and you hadn’t dared. Now, however, there’s absolutely nothing stopping you. With a sly smile, you fall backwards onto the bed, the black and red blankets enveloping you as you sink into the soft mattress. You’re not sure if you’ve ever laid on something this comfortable in your life. Oh my god…this is heaven.

You’re not sure how it happens exactly, seeing as you only woke up not long ago, but the sudden relief and relaxation you feel sends you into unconsciousness pretty quickly.

-----

The sound of footsteps in another part of the house wakes you up a few hours later, and you practically fall over trying to get off the bed. You hear distant voices, none of them recognisable, and for a moment you’re terrified that you left the door unlocked and accidentally let fans or paparazzi into the house. But no, you distinctly remember locking the door, so it must be someone who has a key.

You walk out into the main hallway and see two men placing bags on the floor – groceries. One of them turns and heads back out to grab more, while the other notices you and gives you a smile, reaching his hand out.

“You must be the housekeeper,” he says with a charming smile, then pulls his hand away and points to himself, “Gardener.”

“Oh, nice to meet you.” You tell him your name and he smiles wider.

“I’m Jay. Sorry for letting myself in, I usually just stay outside but this guy was knocking and I had to let him in.”

“Totally fine,” you say with a reassuring nod, “I didn’t even hear him, so…”

You both stand there a bit awkwardly for a second before the grocery man re-enters and places the last few bags on the floor, “Have a nice day.” He says before walking back outside and getting in his truck.

“Let me help you with those.” Jay says as you reach down, and you feel yourself sigh internally – you came to this house to be alone.

Even though you’d rather he just go back to his duties, you figure he has just as much of a right to be here as you do, considering he’s been working here longer than you. Plus, he seems harmless. You both carry the groceries into the kitchen and Jay begins to pull items out when you put your hand up to stop him.

“No, that’s okay! I’ll do it, seriously, it’s my job,” you try to say it without sounding like you want him to leave, but he sees right through you.

“You wanna be alone,” he says with a laugh, and before you can interrupt he laughs again, “No, it’s fine, I get it. But it was really nice meeting you!” he backs away, winking one of his blue eyes at you, “I’ll see you around. I’m here once a week so we’ll bump into each other again.”

He’s got a very flirty vibe surrounding him that you’re not really feeling, but you toss him a smile, “See ya.”

As soon as you hear the front door shut, you sigh in relief and begin to put away the groceries, trying to figure out where everything goes. Keanu doesn’t have that much in any of the cupboards – you suppose there’s no need for him to keep it stocked when he’s away.

He doesn’t have many magnets on the fridge but he does have those word ones, the ones you can mix and match to make sentences and poems with. The words have been scrambled since you arrived, no poem or sentence discernible, and now that you’re staying in the house for a little while, it doesn’t feel as weird to put one together.

Once all the groceries are put away you spend a few moments standing in front of the fridge, pulling and pushing the magnets back and forth with your tongue between your lips, trying to come up with something good. In the end, you end up with this:

Please be quiet I am busy being alone.

“I mean…it’s fitting.” You say aloud to no one in particular.

-----

After feeding the fish and doing a few things here and there, the urge to test out that amazing bath in your bedroom becomes way too strong. You soon find yourself kneeling beside it, dipping two fingers in the water to test it before standing and beginning to undress. At first you have to admit that it feels a little bit creepy to be taking a bath in the house of someone you’ve never met – not to mention even creepier once you’re naked – but there’s a slight thrill in it too. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re allowed to be doing what you’re doing; Keanu wants you to be here.

(Yeah, definitely a thrill.)

As soon as you’re submerged in the hot water you feel immediately at peace, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. After a few moments of relaxation you reach for the mug of tea resting on the side of the tub and take a long sip, putting it down again when your phone suddenly dings. You pick it up and see an e-mail notification.

It only takes a few seconds to realize that it’s from your agency, notifying you that you’ve booked an audition for another commercial. You bite your lip, skipping through most of it to see what you’ll be advertising: dish soap. Great. You put your phone back down and completely submerge yourself in the water.

----

You spend the rest of the day puttering around Keanu’s house, not really doing anything in particular but also not wanting to stay in one place. You find yourself by the koi pond a lot, watching them and trying your hardest not to name more of them, though you’re pretty sure one of the orange and black ones is a definitive Nemo.

The couch in the living room is extremely comfortable, and in your solitude you end up somehow managing to take another nap. You hadn’t realized how much stress being in that house with those girls has caused you; finally having a chance to be away from them is already doing wonders.

You wake up to another email, this time containing your lines for the commercial. You really hate reading off a screen so you head to Keanu’s office where you know there’s a printer, hoping he won’t mind you going in. He’d said in his initial note that no room was off limits, but you’ve only been in here once, so it still feels a bit odd. Especially with the space being so obviously personal – the movie memorabilia, awards, and treasures from sets and places all over the world peppered around the room.

You sit down in the black desk chair and turn on the printer, setting up the bluetooth and humming to yourself. Once it’s set up, you lean back and wait for it to print, your eyes scanning the room and taking in everything. This is what he sees when he’s working, you think to yourself, wondering if this is where he rehearses. You look at the computer and hesitantly reach down to shake the mouse, your curiosity getting the better of you. I just want to see what his desktop wallpaper is.

You come face to face with a picture of a beautiful view, from what looks like a canyon. You wonder if he took it himself or if it’s something he found online. His administrator icon is the logo for his motorcycle company.

Not wanting to go any further than that, you turn the monitor back off and grab your script, getting out of the chair and heading to the door. Before you can leave however, you gravitate toward the award shelf again, eyeing each of them meticulously. He doesn’t have any of them protected by a glass case, they’re kind of just… sitting there.

Your curiosity definitely getting the better of you at this point, you place your script on the desk and reach out to grab one of the bigger awards – a Bambi from Germany shaped like a fawn. It’s sleek and smooth, and you notice there’s dust all over the top of it, like no ones touched it in years. Feeling incredibly vain, you turn toward the mirror on the wall and stare at yourself holding the award for a few moments, heart in your throat. So that’s what it would look like.

During this extremely selfish moment, you’re interrupted by your phone ringing, and it surprises you so much that you almost drop the award, a shocked gasp escaping your mouth as you frantically grab it before it hits the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you say aloud, relieved but terrified as you hold the award in one hand and pull your phone out with the other. There’s no name but that number looks familiar, and your eyes widen when you realize it’s Keanu, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Still holding the award, you bring the phone to your ear, “Hi.” you say, and you hope he can’t hear how breathless you are.

“Hi there,” his voice replies, kind and pleasant, “Just wanted to check in, make sure everything’s okay over there.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great,” you say immediately, licking your lips nervously, “All settled.”

“That’s good to hear. What do you think of the car?”

“Oh, uh, very fancy,” you say with a breathless laugh, “Like, way fancier than anything I’ve ever been in. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Nah, it’s nothin’,” he says, brushing your words off quickly, “But yeah, Audi is definitely a favorite of mine. It was between that and a Porsche but I felt like that might have been a bit too much, if you know what I mean.”

You walk around the room as you talk, eyeing all the objects as you pass them, “Yeah, I mean, not that I really know the difference but I appreciate it.”

He laughs, and the sound sends a strange thrill through you that causes you to almost drop the award again, an audible yelp escaping your mouth as you catch it.

“You okay?” he asks, voice concerned.

“Yep,” your voice is higher than normal as you carefully place the Bambi back onto the award shelf, backing away slowly, “Almost dropped something, sorry.”

He chuckles, “Where are you?”

You freeze, “What do you mean?”

“Like what room? Are you in my office?”

You stand perfectly still, blinking a few times in disbelief, then pull the phone away from your ear to look down at it in confusion. You’re suddenly worried that you’ve accidentally facetimed with him, but nope, the camera is off.

“How…did you guess that?”

He laughs again, your anxiety ebbing, “Don’t worry, I don’t have cameras on you or anything, don’t get freaked out.”

“Too late.” You reply, meaning for it to be a joke but the nervousness in your voice is obvious.

“I heard the printer beep,” he explains, “It does that until you disconnect from the bluetooth, I have no idea why. Were you printing something?”

“Well, uh –”

“’Cause that’s fine!” he reassures you immediately, “I told you nothing was off limits! Actually, ignore that question, it’s none of my business.”

“No, no, no it’s totally fine, I was printing off a script.”

There’s a pause in the conversation and you stand there waiting for him to say something, scrunching your eyebrows.

“Like…” he trails off, trying to come up with the words, “Like, one of my scripts? Are you copying something?” The sudden hint of confusion in his voice brings all your anxiety back to the forefront.

“Oh my god, no, not at all! It’s one of mine, it’s for an audition I have coming up,” you explain, stumbling over the words, “It’s only short, they e-mailed it to me but I like having a physical copy.”

“You’re an actress?” he sounds interested – genuinely – which makes you even more nervous, and you swallow before slowly sitting down in his desk chair again to calm your nerves.

“Um, yeah. Your assistant, uh, didn’t tell you that?”

“She didn’t,” he replies, sounding a bit disappointed that he’s only just now learning this information, “How long have you been working?”

You laugh without humor, leaning back in the chair, “I mostly only go to auditions, if you’d call that working.”

“No, I mean, when did you first start? When did it come into your life?”

His gentle curiosity makes your cheeks warm a bit; a famous actor asking you questions about your craft? You’d never expected something like this to happen so early in your career, and it’s nerve-wracking but thrilling at the same time to get a chance to tell your story – or, some of it at least.

“Um, well, in elementary school I did this school play. It was a Christmas concert thing, I played Mary,” you snort, “I think I had maybe three lines, I was only in one scene. But from that moment I knew it was something I wanted to do.”

There’s silence, and you realize Keanu is listening intently to you, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow, “After that I started going to theater camp every summer; it was kind of just a hobby for a while. I was in a few more productions in high school, and that’s when I decided it was what I wanted to pursue, like, officially or whatever.”

“You started earlier than me, I like that,” Keanu says softly with a chuckle, “So, have I seen you in anything?”

Fuck. The question you dread constantly when telling someone about your job. How the hell are you supposed to sit there and tell Keanu Reeves that your most recent acting gig was a tampon commercial? The humiliation alone would probably make you never want to enter this house again.

You think on your feet, but probably not in the most well executed way: “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

He laughs immediately, gentle and child-like as usual, “Ah, a mystery,” he says in a faux mystical voice, “How intriguing.”

You can’t help but giggle, playing absentmindedly with a button on your pajamas, “I met the gardener today – Jay,” you change the subject, wanting to move away from the acting stuff before he presses it further, although a part of you feels like he wouldn’t, “He’s nice.”

“Oh yeah, Jay’s a cool guy,” Keanu agrees, switching subjects easily without making it awkward, “If you ever need help with anything around the house I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand, I’ll ask Candice to give you his number.”

Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t, you think to yourself, remembering the flirtatious way he’d carried himself, “Sounds good.”

“Well,” Keanu says with an exhale, “Sorry to keep you from rehearsing, let me know how the audition goes, okay?”

It’s incredible that despite not knowing you at all, he really seems to be genuinely interested, not a hint of insincerity in his voice whatsoever. You can’t help but smile wide, the warmth in your cheeks spreading to the rest of your body and sending a surge of confidence through you.

“I will,” you reply softly, “Thank you for calling.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies, that familiar huskiness you’d heard early this morning back in his voice, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”