#I proof read this too many times and I bet it still has mistakes

[lunarmango]

Playing Back on Radio

Hello hello!

I have had some cool headcanons for Alastor's and his radio! (The one that Vaggie uses to bash Lute's head in, yeah, that one.) I'm not usually that good at putting together a script for drawing comics or anything, though I did attempt it in one of my earlier posts.

This fic will be x Reader but... think of this like a Pilot episode to see if I should continue it!

No warnings for now folks!

Enjoy the ride <3

Word count: 1k

“My name? My name is...” 

Sat down on a plush red velvet sofa next to the fireplace in his room, his ruby eyes flash to the Mahogany Radio sat on his desk, the sunlight reflecting on the glossy surface of it. His brows furrow in thought. That voice... Why was it playing?  

Who was it playing?  

What was their name? 

Where did he know them from? 

Did he know them? 

He sighs, shutting the book he was reading and swiftly standing up to place it next to the radio on his desk. Their voice... it was sweet, in a way almost soothing. He looks over the radio, running his claws on the dial to turn it up, careful not to scratch the finish on it. After all, he doubted any other radios like his existed, even in the fantastical world that is hell. 

“Alastor was it?” 

He sighs, hands on either side of the radio on the mahogany desk, specifically customised to match the radio. Where... He shakes his head.  

Probably nobody important.

He turns on his heels, ready to face the day, his striped wine-red tailcoat dramatically flourishing with his twirl, confident, ready and better than- 

. . .

“I’ve never met anyone like you-

You’re different” 

He looks over his shoulder, his glare shooting daggers at the radio as he scoffs to himself.  

What in the world were they talking about- he always kept a good public image, always kept his work... tidy. No one knew he was-

“I- in a good way that is!” 

Oh, right, how silly to think he might’ve slipped up. He was always far too thorough with his killings. 

Static fills the room as the speech that filled the room came to a stop. Alastor never recalled this person or this memory. What was some random acquaintance doing in his radio? He rolled his eyes and faced back to the door, walking out to continue his day and help at the hotel.  

They’re nobody important. Yeah. Nobody important.

His thoughts wandered. His radio manifested when he developed his powers to an extent. It always played fond memories of his past, it was like a warm hug. Just without the touching, how nice.  

Until now. Not that he considered the memory he heard to be unpleasant. No, no. It just wasn’t as... personal as the rest. Why would some random person interest him of all people after all? It usually emitted memories of his mother, or his favorite songs or radio broadcasts he made. These playthroughs from his little radio were always calming, and one of his only forms of comfort. His best friend, in a way.

Alastor frowns to himself, walking outside to clear his head and think things over, so with a twirl of his cane, and a smug grin to the hotel guests supported by a small nod, he was off.

A radio, an inanimate object, his best friend.

How sad. Is this the cause of loneliness, or just lack of interest in social norms? Hell if I know.

He wondered as he walked through the entrance, internally rolling his eyes at the thought. 

I was thinking of something else. A person... a... Oh yes! 

Alastor walks through the streets with a more tense smile. If people were just going to start randomly intruding in his memories, it was going to be an issue. This could really take a toll on his mental state, more than already. GOD he hates admitting that though. 

He is fine. 

With his radio. 

. . .

The day passes seamlessly nonetheless, running errands for Charlie, as physically taxing as they may be, killing a sinner or two on the way, there’s no way she’d find out, its just letting off a little steam.  

Nothing new. They’ll respawn. They earned damnation and I'll be more than happy to offer their fair share.

Other than that, the day was a little dull, but hey, normal is good. It's safe. It's predictable.

Walking with a huff, he fumbles with the lock of his door, walking inside and closing the door behind him. That injury was taxing. Why was he so tired? But he’s fine, he’s the Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords! Always fine, always ready to take on anything- 

“You’re back! I’d recognize that dazzling smile from a mile away!” 

Dazzling smile? Him? His wide grin, his mask, the very thing he works so hard to keep together daily, working overtime as of recent, relaxes as he listens. What convenient timing, he was definitely in need of a pick me up after today.

He walks over to the cabinet to the right of his desk, a small selection of whiskey on the middle glass shelf in lovely crystal bottles that glisten ever so slightly with the dim lighting of his room as he sets a glass on the table, pouring enough for him to warm up, to settle.  

“These flowers? Oh they’re Dhalias! We do have some in red in the back, I’ll return in a moment!” 

It was you?

You.

YOU!

Still stood in front of the shelf, Alastor suddenly rushes to the radio, almost hoping he could remember your face again, crouching so his head is to the level of the radio, staring it down, as if he could see you like this. Your hair... was it long? Short? What eyes... what image to pair with that sweet personality of yours? 

Your name. 

Your name? What was your name? 

Alastor paces around the carpet in the middle of his room, waiting for answers from his radio. As if it could read his mind or something. 

“They make your features stand out...” 

He cringed. Not at you, not at your voice, but the way it made his stomach flutter.

Ugh.

What ridiculous notions. He could never entertain it, he wouldn’t allow himself. He has never had any need for affection, ever, even if it was just verbal.

Was it his wound..? No, that couldn’t affect him mentally.

The liquor..? He didn’t have that much!

He sighs, gathering his thoughts and taking another sip of his whiskey to help make sense of things.

Who are you?

[inkyycapp]

| rayman, ramon & raymesis x reader.

| relationship hcs.

personal song of choice: in my room, by insane clown posse.

i've seen so many rayman edits to this song, it now has him written alll over it. fuuuuuuckkkkkkk. do i write smut? (probably). just take this for now.

| tw:: foul language, raymesis/j, my own hcs, self indulgence, (heavy?)angst, they're all struggling, this is not proof read.

[ a/n:: we need more rayman. i'm still new to writing fanfics(aside my horrid watpad {i forgot how to spell it} phase.) forgive my errors and i hopefully plan to write more of him. he haunts my nightmares(lovingly). i'm ill rn, and wrote most of this in a sleep deprived craze for more rayman. first time writing these characters-- forgive me. ]

(soh/game)rayman.

i feel like he'd be the type to randomly pinch you especially when he feels like he's being ignored, or when you're 'busy'.

he always does it when you least expect it. sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone/reading a book? pinch. getting something to drink? pinch. stargazing? pinch.

loves the little reactions he gets from you. giggles over it. i bet he kicks his feet too.

definitely the type to swipe food from your plate when you're not looking, then gaslight you about it.

you're missing a potato wedge? nuh-uh. you're crazy. how dare you assume that your handsome, loving, amazing boyfriend would ever steal from you. the betrayal...(he did it.)

i like to think he enjoys hand kisses. random thought, but i dunno. i think he'd like to kiss your palms as a source of reassurance, and of course receiving the same affection back would probably give him a heart attack. in a good way of course.

or when you're a bit stressed in public and hold onto the back of his hoodie. like slightly holding onto the fabric where it's almost unnoticeable. probably the cutest thing you could ever do in his eyes. (that or giving him a lil kiss.)

silly things aside, he stuggles a lot. his failures that haunt him day in and out, he's scared to know how long it takes before he fails you too.

simple mistakes can lead to him getting stressed or overwhelmed as he doesn't leave any room for his 'failures', even with something so simple as accidentally knocking something over, breaking stuff, etc... he truly believes that you are one mistake away from leaving him.

he tries to be forgiving of all things with consideration of course, but often times it backfires. he has a naïve view that everyone can, and will change. he wants to believe that they will change for the better, even if the person chooses not to change, or to change for the worse. he blames himself when things go south because of that, he wants to give someone a second chance, but sometimes do they really deserve it? he tells himself he should know better by now, and it was all nothing but wishful thinking. very forgiving for others, but the rules don't apply to himself.

be patient with him, and reassure him whenever you get the chance. he really needs it.

his sleep schedule is the most horrendous schedule you will have ever seen. it's teetering between a full on coma, or staying awake for days on end. he loves taking naps, but sometimes he just can't-- he has work to do. remind him breaks are necessary. force him to sleep when he needs it. for his naps(comas), i don't know. cry? if there's one thing that'll wake him up is the sound of you in distress.

rayman is a sucker for pet names. he will be a puddle of goo in you're hands.

you're in another room, and he's just lounging about. the next moment you're calling for him, needing his help with something? he's right there. like right behind you.

lives for simplicity. babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, hun/hon. consider whatever you need done. he's so whipped for you.

he's also pretty good with pda. again, the pinching. public, private, it doesn't matter. that cute little pout on you're face is something he'd kill for.

personally, i prefer the earlier games personality traits as opposed to (i believe)origins. i do enjoy the childish behavior, however i do believe his immaturity does have a limit. (living for soh!rayman.)

definitely the type to crack the funniest jokes at the worst times imaginable. it's his secret talent.

that, and hitting you with a one liner when you're both faced with a terrible situation. except that one liner is just so good-- you have to at least give him credit for that.

huge soft spot for sentimental gifts. always putting them somehwere safe, and when enough time passes, he likes to go over each and every one. reminiscing about all the little things.

raymesis.

[middle child energy.]

'a hot tempered psycho who's looking to destroy rayman's reputation'. not my words-- it's the wiki's.

with canonical anger issues under his belt(?), he's a bit more brash than the other two. when realizing he may like you, he may turn against you in almost violent ways. but, he hesistates everytime. always missing by a hair.

it takes him a while before he'd able to ever consider that maybe being vulnerable is okay-- just this once.

suprisingly a tad bit cautious of 'being nicer' to you, but he's trying his best.

raymesis is a thing-a-majig with a serious identity crisis.

i like to think that the some of the 4-5 vers. of the evil clones of rayman are just him having multiple 'phases'. it's fun to think of.

on a more serious note: he often feels like he's nothing but a lesser-- a shadow of the heroic rayman. maybe he looks up to him in a way, and finds jealousy in how he can just...keep going. how he's able to be so open, and forgive other so easily despite their past transgressions. he finds it unfair: why is it so difficult for him, but so easy for rayman. he's a clone of him, sure an evil clone, but a clone nonetheless. that's where the deep, dark spiral comes in.

linking to that he struggles to be nice, vulnerable, or open with you. he's supposed to be an evil clone of some heroic figure, and yet he's falling over himself because of you. in his own way, he gets extremely upset-- it pisses him off. he tries to be mean to you, but he can't bring himself to do so. he's supposed to be a 'bad person', but hurting you makes him seem like more of a monster than a villain.

this will all take time for him to process, the best thing you can do is be patient, listen to him rant, and just try and be there for him.

you have definitely mellowed him out, just a bit. he's still an asshole to rayman/j.

they're more like bickering siblings who never get along.

do not expect 'family(?)' dinners to go well.

i feel like mr.dark and the nymphs have serious beef with eachother. wwe smack downs every 'family(?)' dinner. always bet on the nymphs.

wouldn't it be cute for the nymphs to treat raymesis like their son too? just adopting him one day without him knowing? scolding him for lighting that one house down the street on fire?

raymesis doesn't like christmas trees.

there seems to be a reoccurring joke in the descriptions that claim raymesis is 'ugly' despite the fact he's a near clone of rayman. this always leaves him in a puddle of confusion with his confidence always shot. please tell him he's pretty once in a while-- he won't accept the compliment, but he'll think about it for days.

he's not used to praise, and can't take compliments. poor buddy.

he definitely bites. a lot.

of course he's a little more careful with you, he still bites now and again. i feel like he's an agressive lover. wanting to squeeze the life out of things he finds 'cute' without ever admitting it.

he has a purple tongue. that's kinda cool. i like to think he probably has a tongue piercing too? i feel like he's the type.

definitely plenty of pent up feelings that he has a hard time expressing.

but pda? oh yeah. lives for it. his hands always has to be on you in one way or another. get's all agitated, and sulks when you pull you're hand away from his to pick something up, or to rummage through your bag. how dare you-- you owe a huge apology.

pet names; babe/baby, sweetheart, creature, mine, stupid/idiot(lovingly). he's very silly with these.

he has a hard time believing you'd ever choose him compared to the hero, rayman. with time maybe he'll learn you love him, and choose him because he's your first choice.

(superiority complex.)

he may not be the best person, but he's at least willing to learn to be better in his own way.

ramon.

can we all agree on the amount of trust issues this man has right about now? good.

after the betrayal with eden whether you've been in his life for years or not, he finds it hard to put everything out in front. it'll take him some time to rebuild trust after what eden did. and no, him needing to rebuild the trust has nothing to do with you! (i mean that in a good way.) you did nothing wrong(unless you did) in his eyes but, he used to believe eden was his everything. and with that, eden took everything. he worries that with time they'll take you too.

give him reassurance, quality time, the whole mile. remind him you're not going anywhere.

while cuddling in bed(couch, etc) probably the type to refuse to let you go to the bathroom because he doesn't want to let you go.

honestly, very romantic.

he loves fruit, and chocolate covered fruit too.

will buy you some, but steals a few pieces when you're not looking. he's sneaky like that.

also known that he likes sushi, but i feel like he probably has beef with the conveyer belt things. probably a bad experience, or he's mad at it for no reason.

i think he likes habatchi. it's very entertaining.

he's the type to tell the most outrageous stories out of the blue. he's the absolute king of 'i used to know a friend'.

probably kept up with everyone's drama as the news host. stays awake at night thinking about it sometimes.

y'know when someone tells you a joke and you don't get it at first? this is him figuring out what they meant at like 2:30 am.

another terrible sleep schedule. like absolutely horrendous.

he probably has nightmares about his time as a news host. thinking of the lies he used to spread. how much each one impacted someone elses life.

wakes up in a cold sweat. ends up focusing on you're calm breathing, and tries to match it. eventually falls asleep, not before firmly pulling you close to him. even when you wake up, you'll never escape his grasp.

on an alternative route, if you did wake up, he's extremely apologetic. tries to usher you back to sleep. now you're both awake munching on some food watching some shitty trash tv, criticizing why she choose james over percy.

he's not keen on pda. he worries for you're life. it's already a risk for you to be with him-- what if eden sees?

pet names too, but more casual with them behind closed doors. definitely married-couple-core. sweetheart, brat when he's being a pain, or play fighting. hon/hun, baby when he's literally attached to you're hip.

has frequent chronic migraine. enjoys just burying his face into you're stomache and just laying there while you're doing whatever your doing. like a cat.

enjoys the comfortable silence between you two, but small conversation is just as nice.

has guns. you broke a lamp. doesn't let you touch no more./j

he actually prefers you have a gun on your person at all times, even in the comfort of home. you'll never know what could happen when you can't protect yourself.

| the end.

[a/n: sorry it's a little short, but this is my first time writing for these three. addiction is strong, don't do rayman kids.]

[sonybees]

under the moonlight ; george weasley

george weasley x ravenclaw!reader

word count: 2,451

summary: applying lipgloss and clipping butterfly clips into your best friends hair. that’s cute. wonder what it would lead to.

warnings: kissing/making out, maybe a few swear words, lack of capitalization, probably grammar mistakes and nothing else i can think of. let me know if i should add any :)

a/n: i tried to make this fic have a gender neutral reader so let me know if i got it wrong at one point. i did not proof read this, i am so sorrydbnd. i would also love to hear some feedback! i really hope you enjoy!

“georgie, stay still.” you said in a jokingly frustrated manner. the story of how you ended up sitting on your bed, in front of your best friend, the person you were deeply in love with and putting some lipgloss on his lips? let’s just say you were bored. all your dorm mates were out, and someone came in just in time. you were honestly very surprised when he agreed but very glad.

“you know i can’t ever stay still.” he started moving around, trying to get comfortable on the bed. “blimey, this is so weird. why does it feel like that?” you chuckled about how adorable he is. you thought about how much you want to cuddle up to him, kiss his soft lips, trail your hands down on his soft skin. you wanted to hold him like he was the most precious thing in the world. well, he is to you. but you knew you couldn’t do any of that. he would never feel the same.

“it feels like what?” you said, chuckles present.

“it’s.” he trailed off and frantically made hand gestures, trying to think of a word for this odd feeling on his lips. “gooey. i don’t know. it’s just weird.” you chuckle again and finally put the tube down.

“now, smack your lips.”

“wait what? smack them? how the bloody hell am i supposed to do that?” he said, genuinely confused. you just laughed and said,

“do this.” you smacked your lips, trying to show him how to do it. he tried to do so but ended up looking like a quacking duck. you broke down to a fit of laughter when george tried to do the same.

“what? i did what you showed me.” he pouted as you let out a little giggle.

“nothing.”

“nothing? nothing, huh?” you shook your head, trying to hold back a laugh as he narrowed his eyes on you. he looked so stupid trying it. still very attractive though. surprisingly, he just kept quiet and let it go.

“do you really wear this everyday?”

“no. only when i want to.”

“which is, everyday?”

“huh, yeah.” you smiled, barely remembering picking up the said tube every morning. you just smiled to yourself but then you realized,

“wait, how’d you know i wear lipgloss everyday? i don’t remember telling you about it ‘til now.” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“it’s not easy to miss. your lips are always glossy and shining under the lights.” he said so easily like he thought about it everyday. you were a bit taken aback. but in a good way. he noticed you. he noticed your lips. you were suprised but it made your heart melt. little did you know, he always observed you and your beautiful features like you were an expensive artwork. but you didn’t know that, you were oblivious.

“that’s cute.”

“you think i’m cute?”

“what? no, i said ‘that’s cute’ not ‘you’re cute’.” you replied with a slight panic in your voice. you watched george smirk which led to you getting all flustered, looking everywhere but his face. this cheeky bastard.

“yeah, alright.” oh my, that smirk. you thought you could collapse underneath his stare. you playfully rolled your eyes as an attempt to cover your flustered state and moved on. you stood up to your drawer, putting the tube back in and pulled out a little pouch full of colorful little plastic clips that are wonderfully shaped like butterflies.

“what’s that?” george asked as you sat back down in front of him.

“hair clips.” you looked up at george who was wearing a befuddled expression. “you clip it to your hair. kind of like decorating a Christmas tree but the tree’s your hair.” you explained in an odd but simple way, hoping that you wouldn’t have to explain any further.

“oh, right. i know now. ginny wears those sometimes. wait, are you gonna be putting that on my hair?”

“well, yeah. if you want me to.” you answered, making sure he’s alright with it. he thought about it for a few moments.

“well, sure why not. you seem excited about it so i bet i’ll look pretty.” he said, flipping his long red hair over his shoulder. you laughed at this and continued to open up the pouch. you scooched over to george’s back and grabbed a small tuft from the left side of his soft hair, dividing it into three equal bunches. you overlapped each of the bunches of hair over each other carefully, trying not to hurt the boy in front of you. you created a beautiful loose braid that was small enough to be clipped in with the mini butterflies. you cautiously grabbed the braid, careful not to break it and grabbed a clip while doing so. you held it right on the middle of the backside of his head and secured it with the clip. you were pretty proud of it, not gonna lie.

“are you done yet?” george asked, impatient as always.

“not yet, just hold on.” george groaned playfully as you gathered a tuft of hair from the right side and repeated the process. the tip of your tongue was out due to you concentrating, not wanting to mess this up. sticking your tongue out while you were concentrating was another thing george always noticed about you. he found it absolutely precious but he didn’t say a word about it.

after you braided the right bunch, you held it near the other braid and clipped it tightly.

“ow!” george squealed as he felt the clip against his scalp and the way his head tightened.

“oh! i’m so sorry.” you said as you took it out and held it back in more loosely.

“is that good now?”

“yeah, it’s good. okay, can i see now?”

“no, i’m not yet done.”

“merlin, how long will this take?”

“just wait a few more minutes. it didn’t even take that long.”

“yeah, right. well it felt like hours.”

“no it didn’t.”

“yes, it did.” both of you exchanged an unneeded playful banter over something so ridiculous but this was quite normal for you two.

“alright, shut up. i’m trying to finish this.”

“alright, fine.” you could hear his playful pout through his words.

you collected a few of the clips on your one hand, picking up the ones you were going to use with the other. you grabbed one and secured it near the braid and did this again and again all over his hair. soon enough, his hair was filled with so many colors of fascinating butterflies and you loved it. it was so pretty and colorful. you stood up and went in front of george to adjust the little strands of hair that was on his face. george just sat there, a bit confused but with a huge smile on his face as he saw how focused you were. he found you stunning.

“merlin, you’re beautiful.” he whispered suddenly under his breath but even if he didn’t want it to be, it was loud enough for you to hear.

“what?” you asked, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks. you heard the words he said very clearly, you were just in disbelief. did i hear that right? did he just call me beautiful? i mean he has done that before but this seemed- i don’t know, sincere. these thoughts have been running through your head. does he like me back? no, he’s probably just being nice. right?

“er- the moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t it?” he stumbled with his words a bit, contemplating whether or not to tell you what he actually thought.

“oh- yeah, it always does.” you answered, a bit disappointed and bemused. you thought you heard him right the first time but you figured it was just your mind messing with you. trying to make you happy and distract you from the fact that he will never like you back. that’s what you thought. you tried your best to brush all of this off but it wasn’t exactly working.

“well, we’re done.”

“finally, that took forever.”

“please don’t start this again.” he chuckled as you said this to him, sighing.

“yeah, yeah alright. i won’t.” he smiled at you and examined your face for a while. your features were refined under the shine of the moonlight that reflected through the open window. you did the same to him, staring at his chocolate brown eyes that glimmered so gracefully. you swore that you felt the space between you two grow smaller and you weren’t against it but you suddenly became aware of what you were doing and decided to snap out of it.

“anyways, c’mon. let’s go look in the mirror.” you stood up and held your hand out, gesturing for him to hold on to it. he abruptly broke out of his trance and grabbed it as he let you carry him up. you then lead him to the mirror in your dorm which was right next to the large bronze arch window. he looked at the mirror and smiled.

“wow, i look cute.” you laughed at this and looked at him though the mirror. he did look cute. so cute. you noticed a strand of his hair standing up so you reached out to it and straightened it out. it was george’s turn to look at you in the mirror. he thought that the way you did everything gently was so telling to your personality. you may be a fierce person but you had a good heart. you stood up against anything that you knew was wrong and you stayed loyal to your loved ones. even though you’re all of these, you were very kind and caring. you had a soft spot. specifically for george.

he turned his head towards you and stared at you. you looked back at him confused.

“what?” you chuckled quite nervously, starting to get self-conscious. you thought there was something on your face so you put your hand up to it and felt around.

“no, don’t do that. there’s nothing on your face.” he said calmly, grabbing your hand away from your face softly.

“then why are you staring at me like that?”

“because.” he hesitated a bit but decided that his feelings were kept for way too long and that now was the chance. “you look gorgeous.”

you thought you were surprised when you misheard that from him earlier but now, you really were. though, you still felt as if he was just being nice to you after you fixed his hair up for him. you decided to act calm and ‘play his little game’.

“thank you, georgie. you look dazzling as well.” you laughed as you turned around to head back to your bed.

“no, y/n. i’m serious.” he said to you, wanting you to listen carefully. serious? what does he mean by serious? you heard him take a deep breath before saying,

“look, okay. y/n, i have liked you ever since i first met you.” you were taken aback. were you hearing this right? if it was another trick your brain was playing on you, you didn’t like it. you’ve had enough of its little lies. but it wasn’t a lie. your brain didn’t make it up. it was true.

“when i first saw you on that train, i thought that you were the most beautiful being that i’ve ever seen walk on this earth. i always thought that you were perfect. i mean, you are so amazing, how could anyone not like you? but when you defended fred and i when we did that prank and when you did it again and again, i knew i was in love with you.” george said with so much passion and sincerity. you stood there in shock, trying to process what you just heard.

“i know it all came so suddenly but i’ve felt that way for a long time now and i just needed to take it off my chest.” you looked at him and smiled. so wide that your cheeks were hurting.

“i love you too, georgie. ever since you helped me on that charms homework that i stressed so much about.” you finally spit it out. you were proud of yourself. and george was pleasantly surprised.

“really?”

“yeah.” you both chuckled at your obliviousness. the thing you both feared the most from happening didn’t happen. you were filled with joy at that moment. that was until he grabbed your hand and walked closer to you. you knew what was gonna happen and of course, you were happy about it but you were nervous. he leaned closer to you to the point where your foreheads touched.

“can i kiss you?” he wanted to make sure that you were okay with it. and you were. you took a deep breath in,

“yes.” that was when you felt your lips touch one another’s. it was that moment when you felt like you were in heaven. like it wasn’t real. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist. your lips moved together slowly and fireworks erupted in your heart. you felt butterflies in your stomach. you could taste the strawberry flavor of the lipgloss as you kissed him. you continued doing so with so much love that you didn’t hear the door open.

“oh, dear. sorry for disturbing you.”

“yeah, we’ll just give you privacy.” said two very familiar voices. this caught both you and george in surprise, breaking off the kiss.

“luna, padma, cho. i’m so sorry.” you apologized, feeling shy around your dorm mates for the first time in a while.

“oh, no. it’s alright. it’s our fault.” padma said, slightly smirking.

“we’re happy for you, though!” luna replied in her soft and soothing voice that you loved. both you and george just smiled sheepishly.

“anyways, we’ll get on going.” cho said, breaking off the tension. as your beloved dorm mates left the room, padma winked at you as the others giggled.

“that was interesting.” george smiled.

“yeah.” you bowed your head down trying to hide the clear embarrassment on your face. george lifted your chin and grabbed your face softly, kissing you one more time.

“jeez, do you already miss my lips?”

“i’m gonna be completely honest, yeah. they taste good.” you laughed loudly at this.

“yours did as well. it was probably just the lipgloss.”

“oh, yeah. right, forgot i was still wearing that.”you both laughed and kissed one last time before happily walking out your dorm hand in hand. needless to say, this relationship is the cutest and most chaotic thing anyone at hogwarts has ever seen.

*•*•*•*

ending a/n: yay!! i finally finished this fic. it’s very simple concept but i loved it ‘cause it was adorable. i really hope you enjoyed and i hope that you have a great day! mwah!

i’ll be tagging some people who i think would be interested in this (sorry for bothering youdhdj): @georgeweasley19 @audreysmusings @lunalovecroft @boneyw @quadrupledeckertaco @krasivayadarling @cedwardcullen

[ellana-ravenwood]

Can you be friend with your husband's ex-girlfriend ? - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Everyone always think you and Selina Kyle don’t like each others, solely for the fact that she used to "date” your husband. But as usual in life, things are much more complicated than that...A fluffy Drabble mainly about how truly strong, Bruce and reader’s love is. 

Listen. My students were having quiet reading times, and I had a sudden burst of inspiration as one of them chose a French story in which a mother and a step-mother unite fronts to save their little magical kid (I love that story haha), and it suddenly inspired me. I LOVE Catwoman. Like. A lot. And in my head, her and Batmom have always been...Oh. No spoilers. The rest in this story ;). Hope you’ll like this little bonus story ! : 

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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“You look beautiful mom, do you have a date with father ? I thought date nights were on Thursdays.” 

You jumped a little in the air as your son’s voice resonate in the foyer. Definitely didn’t hear him, sneaky little bugger. You turn around towards him, and smile, saying : 

“It is on Thursdays, my little buddy. I’m having a girls night out, tonight.” 

“Girls night out ?” 

“Yes. You know, Cass and I are the only girls of the family. Sometimes we need to vent to our peers. Cass usually goes to see Steph and Babs, I go out with my friends.” 

You smile at him again, ruffling his hair, and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit. In recent months, Damian found that he actually loves, when the one he came to call “mom” (you), ruffled his hair. It made him feel like the little boy he was, as odd as it could sound to anyone not knowing him. 

“I didn’t know you went on such nights.” 

“I do, once a month. You just haven’t noticed because it’s usually on nights you’re out with your father rather early.” 

“I see. If it isn’t too -he hesitates- personal, can I ask with who you are going out ? Who are your friends ?” 

Your smile widens. Because just over a year back, that boy would’ve never cared about this. About who you hung out with, or about you in general. 

Ah, since he came in your life, he went a long way. The mere fact he wanted to know more about you was proof enough, and you felt absolutely touched. 

Even more so as you realized that he not only asked about your friends because he wanted to know you, but because he was a little worried about who you might spend time with, wether they’d put you in danger or not...So, oh so sweet. 

“Well, as cliche as it sounds, I’m going out with mainly other supermoms. We like to vent about...Things -you were aware that telling your son you and your friends love to vent about them wasn’t the best answer right now haha- So, Lois, you know her of course. Jon’s mom. There’s also Dinah, Connor’s mom. You saw him a few time at the Watchtower, although he’s quite younger than you so I don’t think you interact much. I bet you already know she’s Black Canary, and married to Green Arrow, I saw you snoop in your father’s files.” 

Your son’s face redden a little, but you give him a reassuring winks totally meaning : “I snooped around too”, and it makes him smile. You continue : 

“And finally there’s Diana. She’s not a mom yet, but she loooooves to listen to our stories. She’s also great at changing subjects and partying, who would’ve thought right ? I guess having thousand of years of practice helps. I’m sure you know she’s Wonder Woman eh. Oh, and of course, there’s Selina.” 

“Selina ?” 

“Yes.” 

“As in...Catwoman ?” 

“Yes ?” 

You can see your son wants to add something, and you’re pretty sure you know what it’s gonna be. But you let him ask naturally, leave him time to gather his thoughts and dare to ask. After all, you want to instal an atmosphere of trust, between you and your children. You want them to know they can always ask you anything. So you wait. Finally, Damian says : 

“Why are you meeting with this woman ? Don’t you like, hate her ?” 

"Why would I hate her ?” 

You know exactly why he’s thinking that. But you want him to elaborate, to make sense of his feelings about the subject. Simply, to talk. 

“Well...her and father used to...you know...” 

It’s not quite as formed as you were hoping for, but you do know. And at least, he tried. There was a time he would’ve just gotten mad you purposefully pretended not to understand his meaning, and would’ve left this instant.

You smile at him once more. To be honest, so many people thought you and Selina Kyle didn’t get along. 

You guess it would make sense, it’t true, she’s your husband ex after all. AND one of the only woman for whom he truly cared about. Those, were very few...

In fact, there was only three of you, in Bruce’s life, that truly made a difference. Sure, he had been infatuated before, with quite a few women. But only three, truly stood out. 

Talia Al’Ghul, of course. Not his first love (that was Julie Madison, although he was much too young to really know what love even was, and compared to you, it was just mild infatuation). But someone that used to be important nonetheless. The reason your sweet Damian (yes, sweet, especially when around you) was alive. 

She was important, once. When he was training under her father’s guidance, before he realized who Ras really was. 

Talia was a complicated woman who unfortunately could never truly get away from her upbringing, no matter how hard she tried. She was “too far gone”, by her own words. It was clear to Bruce, that if even herself thought she was un-savable, he couldn’t do much either. He did try, though. But it just never worked. 

You were certain that she left Damian in Bruce’s care, when the boy was barely ten, exactly because she didn’t want him to turn out like her. Which in itself, was a little redemption act, no ? At least, you thought so. 

Didn’t mean that you thought you could change her mind about those “world domination” plans that were ingrained in her mind since she was born. Fact is, she gave Damian a chance. 

You never hated Talia. You actually felt pretty sorry for her. 

She could’ve had such a different life, if, all those years ago, she had been able to leave her father. Not that you would want to, it’d mean that you and Bruce would never be (even if deep down, you knew that you and him would always end up together, no matter what...it would’ve just been a little lethal for you, if Talia was more around um um). 

Talia never even really tried to get “her” son back. It seemed she completely accepted to “give him” to you. She self-admittedly never really knew how to be a mother, and there was that time she had him killed because she thought it was meant to be...

Not that, anyway, you’d ever let that happen again. You made it very clear you wouldn’t. And your resolve and anger could be scary, even to Talia Al’Ghul.

Plus, the day she had Damian killed, she realized she didn’t want that...anyway long story short, she was no longer in his life. And although if one day she changed her mind and wanted to contact him again you wouldn’t oppose it, you knew Damian was yours. Everyone knew that if one day she would come back, beyond the fact you, Bruce, and his siblings would be here to protect Damian...The boy would never choose to go back to the Al Ghuls. 

He changed drastically, since he came with you. He was no longer her son. And she knew it. And didn’t interfere so far (and you knew she never would). 

He called YOU “mom”. He told YOU he loves you. You. Not her. he never interacted with you like he did with her anyway. And you still didn’t hate Talia. She was part of both Bruce, and Damian’s past (AUTHOR’S NOTE : a little reminder that Damian was born from a “test tube” with Bruce and Talia’s DNA (to simplify things), and had a surrogate mother to give birth to him (although sometimes he’s seen in literal “baby pods” like in Death Stranding haha). He was born A WHILE after Bruce left Talia and the League behind. He wasn’t born 9 months after. This is important infos so things fit timeline wise :)).

The second woman who had a great impact on your husband’s life, and who used to be “his”, was...Selina Kyle. 

For a long time Bruce felt like she was the only one to understand him. The only one accepting him for who he was, with no compromise. The only person on this Earth that wouldn’t try to change him. And although things were often “on and off”, and complicated, it was nice, to feel like he belonged. And Selina... Selina was the only one giving him this feeling. 

But...Well, he was wrong.  

Because then, you, the “third” and yet most important woman in his life, appeared. 

You arrived years after his love story with Talia, and quite a while after he started to realize him and Selina were maybe not meant to be. Too many differences, even as they understood each others (or at least he thought they did).

Then you barged in. A bit younger than him. Unafraid to be yourself, bold and utterly stubborn. Turning his world upside down, and making him reconsider if he ever knew what the word “love” meant before you.  

But that, was another story. Anyone seeing you with him, and particularly the way he looked at you, would instantly know how crazy he was about you. How desperately in love he was. 

Right now, the question wasn’t about how strong your bond was, and how he never loved anyone like he loves you. 

Nope. Right now, it was all about how you didn’t hate his exes (not even Talia). How anyway, they were part of his life at some point, that was a fact you could never change. 

Before you, Bruce had a past. Past. 

A past. A path. A path that lead him to you. A path that taught him to not make the same mistakes he made before, and a path that showed him it was you. That it has always been you. 

A past path, that couldn’t compare to his present with you. 

You didn’t even feel particularly jealous of them, you knew how Bruce felt about you, and that they were just that...part of his past. 

Now, sure. You would probably never even be friendly with Talia. Who she was and what she stood for made it so. The opposite of you, really. 

But Selina ? Well. Selina was another story. 

You smile at your son, and say : 

“Do you think of Selina and I as “conventional women” ? “

His answer came without a second of hesitation, Damian didn’t even have to think to say what he thought of your question : 

“Certainly not.” 

“Exactly. Now. Maybe society teaches girls they should instantly hate their boyfriend’s ex, but I chose not to listen. It’s a toxic view of life, and not all exes are crazy jealous psychos as the people make it sound ? Sometimes, like in your father and Selina’s case, the relationship ends on good terms. Selina is a great woman. As soon as she knew your dad and I were actually a thing, she backed off.” 

Well. That wasn’t entirely true. She backed off of Bruce. But she still LOVED driving him crazy jealous by openly flirting with you. 

“And I know how your dad feels about me. I trust him, too. Trust is important, you know that now right ? -he nods- So. Why would I hate someone I have a lot in common with, and with whom I’d probably be friend anyway if you father wasn’t in the picture ?” 

“I...I guess you wouldn’t ?” 

“And I indeed don’t.” 

Your son was visibly confused, and you couldn’t blame him really. 

Because of how the World was, but also because of who raised him (Talia was...a jealous woman), you understood how he couldn’t quite understand you not feeling threaten in the least by the fact Selina was your Broosh’s ex. So you say, kissing his forehead :

“I’ll tell you a few stories, soon. And I think you’ll get it.” 

“Ok, mom.” 

You smiled. He hadn’t call you “mom” for very long, and you quickly noticed he used every opportunity to use the word. It melted your heart. 

“Now, I have to go ! If I’m late, Diana is going to fly me out of here, and your father HATES when she does that. Goodnight baby, see you soon. Make sure to eat a proper dinner. I told Alfred but I trust you to listen. And force your dad to have one too, when I’m not here, he forgets things...even as important as literally feeding himself. Too engrossed in his project, you know. Anyway, love you. Good night !” 

“Good night, mom.” 

And with a last smile, you go out and leave behind a son that has a LOT of things to think about. 

************

A few days later, it was Damian’s mandatory night off and he was going to bed early. Your orders. You convinced him, by promising to read him a bedtime story.

Many would think your son was too proud to even admit you still read him stories before bed, even as he was approaching the age of 12. But many would be wrong. 

If there was something Damian wasn’t afraid of, it was to tell the world how much of a mamma’s boy he was. Nobody could blame him, he never really had a “real” mom. Not one like you, at least, who taught him with love and patience, and not hired assassins and blood. 

“Ok Little Buddy, what will it be tonight ?” 

"The story of how you became friend with Catwoman ?”

Your taken aback for a few seconds, you had totally forgotten about telling him about your “girls night out”. But then you smile, settle down next to him on his bed, and as he threw his heavy and comfortable quilt on both of you, you start your story. 

The day she saved your life. 

The first time you realized you and Selina could very well become friends one day, was that time she literally saved your life. Definitely a hint that she didn’t hate you, at least. 

And you ? Sure, at first you were a little insecure because you knew she was Bruce’s ex and Selina was...Well she was a gorgeous woman, smart, witty, and very VERY hot. 

But after seeing her a few times there and there, and seeing how she interacted with Bruce...you knew Selina Kyle was not the “home wrecker” time. That she would never try anything with him, as long as she knew you two were a thing. 

Sure she was a thief, unscrupulously taking whatever she wanted from whomever she wanted...but “someone else’s man” was definitely where she drew a limit. She felt absolutely no pleasure being a mean spirited person. 

And she saw how happy Bruce was with you...Which lead to that fateful night during which you two started to get closer. 

Because sure, you fought off your insecurities about her being his ex, but you weren’t exactly friendly. You just...knew of each others. 

The change happened not long after Bruce made it official with the media that he was no longer “Gotham’s most eligible bachelor”, and was in a serious relationship with you. 

To your surprise, the people in the city took it really well. Bruce was a beloved figure, they were happy that after years of clearly love life instability, he found someone. Sure, a few women and men had their heart broken, their dreams shattered, and were totally jealous of you but...

Anyone seeing you with him just instantly knew you guys were the real deal. That it was true love, as cheesy as it sounded. It was just that obvious. 

Maybe too obvious. 

Clearly, soon, everyone in Gotham knew how much Bruce Wayne cared about his girlfriend. How he would do anything for her. And...Well. 

This was Gotham. Do you get the picture ? 

It was a time during which you hadn’t moved in with him just yet. You’d do that only a few months later, not long before you and Bruce would adopt Dick. 

But for now, you still had your studio apartment in the heart of Gotham (refusing to take any handouts from Bruce, who could definitely get you a better place), and you were going back there after a few meeting with your publishers. 

You were suppose to meet Bruce the next day, as tonight, he was working on some important “Batcases”. You didn’t mind too much. Sometimes, it was nice to be alone with yourself, gave you a moment of self-care and calm. 

You loved Bruce of course, and loved being with him, but it was still nice to have some alone time nonetheless. 

Anyway. You were walking back, feeling rather good about the bath bomb that was waiting for you back home (it was from your favorite artisanal shop, a gift from Bruce, who definitely had no qualms buying you hundreds of dollars worth of bath bombs haha...If he couldn’t help you get a better apartment, didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna spoil you otherwise). 

That’s when it happened. You never even saw it coming. One second you were walking down the street, the next you had a damp towel around your mouth and nose, and everything went to black. 

************

You woke up in a warehouse. By the salty smell in the air though, you guessed you were somewhere on the docks. Which didn’t tell much, there was a lot of docks, in Gotham. Perks of living on a city with a seafront view ?

There was a group of men in a corner, playing cards. In front of you, a camera. You were gagged, your arms and legs were bound, and your head hurt like hell. 

“Hey, she woke up.”  

A shuffling to your side. The men playing cards were moving. They came to you, one turned the camera on. The other one put on some headphones and slowly directed a mic towards you, as the last man pulled on a ski mask and settled in front of the camera. 

Nothing made sense to you. Until the man in front of the camera started to talk. 

“Bruce Wayne. We have your girlfriend. If you don’t bring us-” 

Oh. Oh. You were kidnapped. And those men wanted a ransom. An insane amount of money. That you knew Bruce had, but still. Ah. 

You had to get out of here. You had to. 

You looked around you, nothing. And there were the three men. Oh. Oh but the edges of your chair were sharp. And if you slowly made a back and forth movement with your wrists, you could see it slowly cutting the ropes. And so, you got to work.  

Only...

“Believe me, we won’t hesitate to hurt her. Here, a proof of “good faith”.”

Huh ? OUTCH ! The man in front of the camera had just almost knocked you out with the force of his punch in your jaw. You were wondering if he hadn’t broken it. You couldn’t quite think anymore, and could feel the tears slowly falling on their own from your eyes... 

Damn, it hurt. You didn’t see it coming either, too focused on slowly cutting the ropes while making sure they didn’t notice. 

“Ok, I think that’s good. Whaddaya think, Rupert ?”

“We can do another take if you want, and then edit the punch in ? I’m not sure she can handle another hit like that, she looks pretty shaken up.” 

“Ah well we-”

“Oooooh booyyys !” 

Your ears were ringing, everything was blurry, and your head hurt so much. But you definitely recognized that voice. 

“Catwoman, you’re early.” 

Huh ? What was she doing here... 

“Well, I thought I’d pop in a little earlier knowing you boys would be around. I’m sort of in a hurry. I accept cash of course, as usual. I think you’ll find the array of jewelries I brought today to be...What the hell are you doing ?”

“Mm ? Oh, her ? A little side operation. She’s Bruce Wayne’s sweetheart. Rumors has it he’d burn the world for her, we thought we’d take advantage of it and expend our business.” 

“That��s quite a jump from fencing stolen jewelries, to kidnapping, isn’t it ?” 

The man shrugged, and turned back to you. 

“Well, you don’t achieve anything if you don’t start new ventures. And there’s big money to be made here. For sure. That idiot Wayne will pay up, there’s no doubt.” 

You heard the click-clacks of heels, and a shadow came into your vision. 

“What did you do to her, you animals ?” 

“Just a punch. And maybe we weren’t too delicate with her when we moved her to our van, and then here. But it’s fine. Nothing too bad really.” 

Slowly you were regaining your vision. And the pain was retrieving. You had never been punched before. You kinda hope it would never happen again... 

The way those thugs were talking about the all thing was so casual, from them talking about how they’d edit the video destined to Bruce, to how they were just saying they were expanding their operation...For a little bit, you almost forgot you were from Gotham.

Gotham. 

America’s capital of crime. 

Where little thugs like those ones were plenty. 

Men who thought they could “make it big”.

Gotham.

A place that bred someone like your Bruce, and his nightly activities... 

Selina’s voice raised again, harsh and dry : 

“I give you all the things I stole in the past month, in exchange of her.” 

There’s a short silence, followed by a chuckle from one of the man, clearly the leader, who answers : 

“Oh please. We ain’t stupid. We know her value. And we know someone like you, wouldn’t trade anything in for her if she wasn’t valuable. You’re not exactly known to be a nice woman.” 

There’s a hint of anger crossing Selina’s face, and you immediately understand where it comes from. Sure. She was a thief. A criminal. And sometimes, she’d rough up some security guards, or some fellow criminals that think they could cross her. 

But she was no brute. 

She would never NEVER kidnap anyone, and especially not an innocent. 

She protected children, and defenseless woman in her neighborhood, and whenever she could. She wasn’t exactly a hero, like Bruce; That’s for sure. But she wasn’t a bad person. No. She wasn’t. 

And those guys words ? Just infuriated her. 

“Mm. Too bad for you. Don’t go out and say I didn’t give you a chance. Really, too bad. I liked doing business with you.” 

“What are you-”

In an instant, Selina sprout in action, and knocked the three men out before they could even realize. That was impressive. Even gagged, you could hear yourself utter a “wow” as she rushed back to you to untie you. 

She smiled as she saw you made a good way through the ropes, and were most likely be able to get out of your bounds at some point. You were glad you didn’t though, because you weren’t quite sure what you were going to do once free ? 

You fall forward on the floor and she catches you. Your head is still ringing, as you look at Selina. 

There is genuine concern on her face. 

How odd. 

"Are you okay ?” 

“Yes, I’m fine.” 

“Good. Cause I refuse to be the one telling Bruce the person he loves the most in this world died. Again.” 

“Yes. Thank you I-I...”

“Hey, are you okay ? (Y/N) ? (Y/N) ??” 

You could hear Selina call to you, and it felt like her voice was slowly fading into the distance...The adrenaline gone, the stress of it all gone, you had simply passed out. 

************

“Is she alright ?!” 

Bruce arrived, bursting through a window, and ran to you. Your head was in Selina’s lap (she felt bad just leaving you laying down there on the hard concrete ground), and she was casually sitting, her back against a container. 

She was surrounded by the knocked out bodies of your aggressors. 

“Yes. Yes she’s just sleeping. She got roughed up a little bit, but I checked. Nothing too bad. It’ll leave a few bruises. Nothing time cannot heal.” 

After saving you, totally by chance, Selina called Bruce on his red phone, so he would know it’s an emergency. 

It didn’t even take him more than ten minutes to drop the case he was working on, cross town, and arrive. 

He kneeled next to you, and checked every part of you to make sure Selina was right. But it did appear you were just asleep. The shock was too big, probably. 

“How did you know she was here ?” 

“I didn’t. It was all luck. Those men were some...um...Associates of mine.” 

“You have associates that kidnap women ?” 

There was anger in Bruce’s voice, but Selina knew better than to think it was aimed at her. No. It was anger he felt towards those men who hurt you, and towards himself, too, as he wasn’t there to take care of you. 

“No. She’s their first.” 

He looks at you, with a longing and love in his eyes that he never looked at Selina with. She recognizes it instantly. He’s more in love with you than he ever been with her. Was it even really love, between them, or a strong friendship ? Sometimes, the two were difficult to dissociate.

She stares at him, because it’s quite something, to see the Batman himself so desperately in love that he dropped everything he was doing to run to you, knowing that you were safe. 

It’s quite something, to see the Batman himself ready to give it all up just for one person. Something he was never willing to do before. Never willing to do with Selina... 

She stares at him, and smiles. An almost sad smile, because it hurts a bit, he never looked at her like that. But a smile nonetheless, because she knows now for sure, that he found his true love. 

Nobody would peg Catwoman for a romantic, but oh, oh she was a hopeless sap. Especially when it touched her dear friends. 

Bruce looks at her, and mistakes that look in her eyes for something that isn’t there. She can see it instantly. He thinks she’s sad, that she’s truly hurt he found someone else. That he moved on. 

She’s not. But of course, he would think so. 

“Selina I-”

“Don’t Bruce. It’s ok. You and I were never meant to be together, and we knew it. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friend. I actually think we work better, as friends, don’t you ? Take care of her. She’s definitely a keeper.” 

You slowly shift in Bruce’s arms, and he takes a look at you. At your wounds. His heart tightens, and he holds you with more force. 

“Thank you.” 

He barely whispers it, but Selina hears him. She smiles at him, happy that her friend found happiness. True happiness. 

All she ever wanted for Bruce, was for him to find a way to be happy. Clearly, she wasn’t that. But you...You definitely were. 

“I don't know what I would’ve done if she...” 

“Hey, hey come on Bat. Don’t think about this. She’s fine. Just tired from the shock. She’ll recover, she’s strong. And you’ll be here, right ?” 

“...Yes.” 

He didn’t sound too convince, and Selina could feel a big urge to slap him across the face. Because she knew what he was thinking. And he’d better not do it. 

“Bruce if you-”

“Thank you, Selina. I’m going to take her home, now. She needs the rest. And-And I do too.” 

And on that note, he exited the warehouse, holding you tight in his arms. And oh. Oh Selina hoped to everything she held sacred (and that wasn’t a lot of things) that he wouldn’t be a stupid idiot. 

The day she saved his heart. 

He couldn’t stop thinking of that time you got hurt. Because of him. Because he was Bruce Wayne...What if anyone got wind that he was Batman ? 

It’d be even worst. If someone like the Joker, or Penguin ever knew who he really was (and that was definitely a possibility), being with you would sign your death. 

He had to-

“Oh god Bruce you are SO cliche.” 

He slightly jumped in the air as Selina casually sat down beside him, looking down to the dark streets below. There was a slight fog, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at how even the weather decided to join in ont he stereotype. 

“Excuse me ?” 

“You’re a living cliche. What, brooding all alone on a rooftop, on a full moon night, wondering if you should ruin your life or not, sacrifice your own happiness for dumb reasons.” 

“What ?” 

“What, breaking up with her to protect her ? Really ? Do you even know how dumb that sounds ?” 

“I didn’t-”

“Your thoughts are plain to see. I know you, Bruce. And I noticed your face, ever since she got hurt. And what you’re thinking? Leaving her for her own safety ? D-U-M-B. So dumb.”

“Did you not pay attention to the close call she just had ?!” 

“I was there to save her. And if I wasn’t, you would’ve barged in and save her. Or better yet, when I arrived, she had made her way half way through her bounds by slowly cutting it on the edge of her chair ! She might’ve escaped on her own !”

“Or gotten killed.” 

“But she’s alive.”

“No thanks to me.” 

“So what, you renounce happiness because maybe one day she’ll be in danger ? This is Gotham, Bruce. She is always in danger. And if you leave her alone, like I know you’re thinking about, she will definitely be an easy target. It’s not because you break up with her that people will stop thinking you care about her. In fact, after she got attacked like that, and it was made public, I bet the opposite will happen. Criminals in Gotham are a lot of things, but dumb is unfortunately not one of them. They WILL come after you if you leave her to fend for herself. If you break up.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do know that. Come on Bruce. I was born here. You too. And her too. Hell, I saw her give a nasty right hook to more than one person, in the short time I’ve known her ! One of those being Mayor Hady himself, and that was BEFORE she started to date you, how fearless is she, huh ?” 

“That’s the problem.”

“Her fearlessness ? Sounds to me like it to be taken advantage of. Train her. Teach her to fight, to defend herself. Give her the keys, to survive. Just like you gave yourself the keys to go on your “justice” mission.” 

“I...I can’t.”

“Why ?” 

“Because she...She shouldn’t live this kind of life.” 

“A little late, no ? She knows who you really are already. And she stayed. Even then, shouldn’t this be her own choice ? Shouldn’t she decide on what she deserves ?” 

“Selina-” 

“Nu-hu. Don’t start with this. You tried to do the same with me, and I didn’t have the patience to stay. But I know she does. I know you can try to push her through the front door, she’ll climb through the window. She, unlike me or anyone else, will see right through your bullshit. Does, see right through your bullshit. And is willing to put up with it...You’ll never find someone else who does.” 

“I know...”

“Then, what are you doing ?”

And with that, Selina rolled her eyes, grumbled something about him being a stubborn idiot, said : “think of her feelings for once, and not your own. Because you damn well know Bruce, that if you leave her, it will be out of selfishness, not because you think it’s truly the only way.”, and jumped from the building to the one next door, leaving Bruce with too many thoughts and dilemmas...

Even if in the end, the answer became obvious to him.   

************

“As if I would ever let that happen anyway.” 

“I’m sorry ?” 

Years later, Bruce told you the story of how he almost broke up with you not long after you two moved in together, shortly before you adopted Dick. 

“She was right you know ? I would’ve climbed through the window. See. If I knew for sure you were leaving me because you didn’t love me, then I would leave you alone of course. But I would’ve definitely called your bluff.” 

“How can you be so sure ?” 

He smiles fondly at you, bringing you into a warm embrace as you roll your eyes at him. Ah but of course, even him always knew you could see right through him, even when he tried to hide his emotions. 

“Please, Bruce. You can’t fool me. You were never able to, and I don’t think you’ll ever learn to. Or I’ll just learn your new tricks, and crack you anyway. And believe me, if you had tried to leave me at that time...I wouldn’t’ve let that happen.” 

He lays his forehead on yours, unable to say another word. Tonight, he was able to tell you this story that was now “silly”, but that almost tore his heart away from him. 

Because if he had lose you to his own stupidness, he would’ve become just an empty shell. Back to those dark days of loneliness, and acting like a machine while his entire soul was hurting. 

Sure. Now this story sounded silly. But oh, oh if he had gone through with it. If-

“I’ll have to thank Selina though. Because she avoided me going through the trouble of drilling into your thick skull that it’s ok to be happy. And be afraid for those you love. Especially in your situation...” 

“I know.” 

He holds you tighter. Just as every time he realizes how lucky he is to have another shot at this “family” thing. How lucky he is, that you’re here, with him. 

And Selina was truly to thanks for that, in a way. 

Because, you were almost sure you could’ve change his mind and not break up with you. But there was this slight possibility, this slight one you’d fail...

Maybe you would’n’t’ve been able to convince him to stay with you. Maybe. There was still a chance, right ? So you’re thankful. Your thankful for having such a good friend. For having Selina in your life. 

You’re thankful that one day, a stupid mistake you made truly started this dear friendship. 

The day she became a friend. 

You had always been quite a “lone wolf” sort of person. So you didn’t have a lot of friends. Your childhood best friend, Alex, had moved across the country years ago. And making new friends as the wife of Bruce Wayne was hard. 

This was a time BEFORE you met the others from the League. BEFORE any of them knew the Batman had a family. 

Of course, before introducing you to them, he had to make sure things were safe. That they could be trusted (A/N : if you wanna see the day he does trust them, here’s the story I wrote about it haha : “You have kids ?? And…A WIFE ?”). 

So, you didn’t have many friends. And sometimes...You wished you did. 

Someone that wasn’t your Broosh. Or your kid. Or Alfred. 

You told everything to Bruce, but sometimes...Well sometimes certain issues, you couldn’t talk to him about. Like for example the time he annoyed the hell out of you. Sure you’d tell it to his face, and you guys would fight, then work it out, and finally  make up, and you didn’t want to bring back the issues you know ? You wouldn’t vent to him about him, eh ?

Bruce was definitely your best friend. But he was also the man you loved. And sometimes, it was nice to have an “outside” perspective. 

Someone with whom you could gossip a little (although you did gossip plenty with your husband, when at charity balls and galas). 

And then, slowly, you realized what you actually were feeling...

Selina. 

You were missing her. 

It had been a little while since the last time you saw her. 

Ever since she saved your life, and knocked some sense in your Broosh, whenever you saw her, you’d have such a interesting and compelling conversations. 

It was oh so pleasant, to gang up on Bruce and make fun of him. His pride was always hit, and he’d frown in such a delightful way. 

At the same time, she knew him rather well, and you knew him rather well, and you three had a lot in common and it sometimes felt like you were a trio from a very cliched “chosen one” story. 

Hermione, Ron, Harry. 

Percy, Annabeth, Grover. 

Any trio really. It even inspired some of your stories. Yet...Yet you wouldn’t call her quite a “friend”. Why that ? 

You weren’t sure. It just was never made official, and in your anxiety riddled mind it meant that you weren’t friends, then. 

Yet you missed her. And earlier in the day, you saw something that made you want to call her and talk to her about it ! 

Should you call her ? Send a text ? You had her number. She once wrote it on a napkin and slipped it in your pocket right in front of Bruce, just to mess with him. You kept it, and put it in your phone, not really knowing why. 

Taking your phone, you started to draft a text (it had to be drafted before being send, it you were even going to send it...your anxiety made it so that even with texts, you had to make sure you didn’t sound stupid or such). 

You didn’t really have any intention to send it. You were just toying with a few ideas when...

No. Oh no. 

Oh fuck. No. No no no no no no. 

Instead of hitting the “back” key to erase the text for good and move on from this weird move, you pressed “send”. Shit. Fuck. Motherfucker. 

It was such a dumb text as well. 

“Hey girlfriend, wanna hang out ?” 

You were just trying out different ways of writing a text, and were entering “stupid silly mode”, which was the step right before you usually gave up and didn’t send something (you had MANY of those moments when starting to date Bruce...Moments during which you almost send some really sappy and silly texts, making the mistakes a few time to indeed press “send”...mortifying...why, why were you never learning from your mistakes ?!). 

You were in your office, in the Wayne Inc building (you settled your writing office there, so it was more convenient to see your Bruce, but also to handle taking care of your son, Dick), downright panicking about this stupid text, when you heard a knock on your door. 

How long had you been beating yourself down about this ? AN HOUR ?! Damn. Anxiety never let you keep track of time. You-

“Hey...girlfriend.”

Bollocks. 

It was her. Selina. And you could hear her smug smile in her voice. You were facing your windows, not wanting to turn around, and it was getting a little awkward. Selina broke the silence : 

“Listen, I thought you did want to hang out and was just making an inside joke by being overly girly, you know, imitating those models Bruce used to date ? But I realize maybe this was um, a mistake ?” 

She sounds so unsure. You never heard her sound unsure before ! So you turn around, and here she is, a little shy. 

Catwoman. A little shy ? 

And all of a sudden, you realize she must’ve felt the same about you. Consider you a friend, but since you never talked about it never took it for granted, for something sure, settled in stone ? 

And your text maybe confirmed you were, indeed, friends ? 

And here it was. 

From that day, and on. 

The official beginning of your friendship. 

Of course, you both saw the other as a friend since a while before, but it’s with this embarrassing text that it really changed everything. 

Made it “official”. 

Made it clear to the both of you. 

It never occurred to you that Selina too, could sometimes have insecurities and be anxious. But that day, as she shyly responded to your call, hopeful it meant you were really friends...

Being her, it was also hard to make friend. 

She had been friend with Bruce for a long time. The fact she was yours now too, filled her with joy. Because she really liked the both of you, in the most platonic way that ever existed. 

Yes. Her and Bruce worked better as friends anyway. 

Ah. But wasn’t this how the best friendship started ? With a push from fate, a little awkwardness, and a lot of laughter once the initial shock passed ? 

Girls night out. 

It happened a day during which you, Dinah and Lois were...not in a great mood. 

Your husbands were aggravating, your children got into troubles and shenanigans, you had so much to do...it was a lot of stress, and it was all released at the same time. 

You all left your house yelling that you “needed air”, and left behind rather stunned husbands and children. Ah but yes, everything wasn’t always perfect, even amongst loving families.

And your first reflex ? To call each others. 

That’s it. That’s how girls night out started. The realization sometimes you needed to wind down with some friends. But quickly, you realized that the three of you talked mainly about your kids and husbands, and by extension, the “superhero work”. Which was fine, you needed to vent but...It wasn’t helping you relieve some tension. 

And that’s when you got an idea. 

Who better than Selina Kyle to make you NOT talk about your families ? 

You joined in a bar every first Wednesday of the month, starting at happy hours for you, Dinah and Lois. Ranting about your families, and about annoying habits your husbands had etc etc...And then you were joined a bit later in the evening by Selina and Diana. 

And that’s when the fun really began. 

It became a ritual. 

Girls night out (A/N : maybe I should write a story about that one day haha). 

This was one such night, and you had let lose a little bit more than usual because...for the first night in nine months, you could drink a little bit of alcohol. 

Alcohol had never been your thing, but a sweet cocktail there and there was nice. Now, while being pregnant with your youngest, Thomas, obviously you weren’t going to do that. 

And you had missed a few “girls night out” because you were too damn pregnant. 

But now, he was OUT, and you were TOO. 

Well. Diana said something like that, as she kept giving you more and more cocktails. 

Long story short, you were a little tipsy. And definitely not able to drive. And so here was your savior, Selina. 

She didn’t really drink, knowing you would totally let loose. So she drove you home. 

You were coming back a little later than usual, and you had forgotten to send a little text to Bruce to tell him so so he wouldn’t worry (Selina did it for you though, true friend had your back eh ? And she definitely didn’t want the Batman to come barge in on your girls night fun). 

He opened the door as you walked up the stairs, saying bye to Selina. She had that smirk on her face, the one you knew she always had when about to tease your beloved husband. And as he slipped an arm around your waist, and turned to wave goodbye to her...She did just that : 

“Careful Bat, I’m making good progress with her. If you’re not wary enough, I’ll steal her from you.” 

On that note, Selina winks at the both of you, puts on her sunglasses (while it was night...Oh Selina), and drives away, smiling widely of that very Catwomanesque smug smile. Which makes you chuckle. She always made you laugh rather easily. 

You turn to your bruce and...

Oh. That adorable “jealous frown” got you every time. Your smile shifts from amused to utterly affectionate, and you put your hands on his cheeks. 

He was looking at Selina’s car fading into the distance, the arm he had around you tightening slightly (you were pretty sure he wasn’t even consciously doing it). Your hands on his cheeks didn’t seem to register in his mind. 

So a further distraction was needed. You brush your lips against his cheek, as an attempt to drive his attention back to you and...it works. 

You smile at him, and in your little hazy state you whisper in his ear : 

“I love you, my Broosh.” 

He can’t help but feel a surge of warm feelings towards you, and bring you in a tight hug. Partly because he can’t help it, partly because he’s trying to hide the slight blush growing on his face whenever you surprise him with “I love yous”, and that always made him snicker at him...Only you could fluster him so. 

“I love you too.” 

You tripped on air, as, once again, you were a little tipsy, and he catches you...Good, he needed an excuse to carry you bridal style anyway. 

He always liked doing so, any excuse to have you near really. And as your face approach for a loving kiss you-

************

“Wait wait wait mooooom !! You don’t have to leave this gross part in !” 

“What gross part ?” 

“The sappy declaration of love, and the kiiiisses !!” 

“Oh ? But don’t every story have to end with a kiss ? And a happy ever after ?” 

“Nu-huh ! Also HEY ! None of your stories end like this, I know, I read them all !”

You chuckle slowly at your boy’s reaction, and kiss him on the forehead. Quite touched he read all your stories. 

“Time for bed, little buddy.” 

You say, slipping out of his quilt and tucking him in. You can see he pensively thinks about your little friendship story, and finally he says : 

“I’ll try to be nicer to Miss Kyle. I never trusted her, because of her past with father. But maybe she deserves a chance ?” 

“She does.” 

“If you say so, then I believe it.” 

It touches you, how much blind faith your son puts in you. You smile, giving him another kiss to his forehead, as he says : 

“Thank you for telling me the story, mom. It was nice.” 

Behind this “it was nice”, there isn’t just the story itself, but the knowledge that as you grow up...Your feelings change. 

You change. 

And you go through a lot of heartaches, before finally finding the right persons to surround yourself with. 

Beyond the story itself, Damian related to how it took both you and Bruce a lot of trials and errors, before finding each others. How you loved before you met the other, but it never compared to how you love each others. 

How you found good friends along the way, and how even when things sounded desperate and lonely...you made it through. 

So he could certainly do so, too ? Even more so since now, he was a big brother. 

Thomas was barely a few weeks old, but Damian had already taken his role very seriously. And you knew he was going to continue to grow, to love, to hurt too sometimes...and to evolve. 

Just like you and Bruce did. 

So. No. You didn’t hate Selina Kyle just because she and your husband used to be a thing. In fact...

In fact, Selina had become both of your best friend. Unfortunately for Bruce, she often took your side on everything, and LOVED to drive him crazy by openly flirting with you. 

And she had been by your side through many good moments, and bad ones. The first to respond when your family needed it. The one you’d always be there for, and vice versa. 

A best friend. 

Quite an important find. 

When you met Bruce, not only did you meet the love of your life, but also one of your best and most precious friend. 

Conclusion : is it possible to be friend with your husband’s ex ? Absolutely. 

Especially when that “ex” was someone as extraordinary as Selina Kyle, and when the love that linked you and your husband was so impossible to even graze. 

__________________________________________________

And yet another bonus story that I had no intention to write but suddenly felt the need to haha. Don’t worry, the rest of the stories I announced are still coming ;). I guess there’s nothing bad in having little bonus ones in between hehe. I hope you liked this, again it’s just a little drabble.

As usual comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and motivating <3.

PS : I wrote this, like all drabbles, in like thirty minutes. Didn’t re-read. Sorry for any typos. Don’t hesitate to point any huge ones to me, Ill change it x_x. 

[sweetestlamb]

Bad Idea

Summary: Cha-young has a bad idea that involves one dangerous Italian. 

Author's note: It's really just smut that I couldn't get out of my head, these two have no right having this much chemistry. It's only been 4 episodes. Read at your own risk. Also disregard anything I say about the law I'm making this shit up lol I don't know anything and I couldn't be bothered to look it up. I wanted to write more(aka make the smut smuttier) but life is getting in the way so please accept this and except more in the future when I have more time.😏

*Plays Ariana Grande- Bad Idea*

She has broken the law, after spending years learning the nooks and crannies of the justice system; hours spent soaking the ink into her fingers and absorbing the knowledge until it became a part of her very fiber. Arson. She was liable to seven years if penalized, Babel would surely flex their corrupted muscles to imprison them for even longer if they were found. She'd seen first hand what they did to those they believed were in their way, the loss of her father still pressing on her heart in aches that ebb and flow like waves on the coast.

She thought she would feel conflicted, when he had shared his plan she'd stared at him in concern, only then realizing that he was not bluffing about the lengths he would go- she was following him to the pits of hell and there would be no turning back. It was told that the road there was paved with best of intentions, but she wouldn't delude herself into believing she was a martyr.

No, this wasn't selfless or self-sacrificing for the greater good. It was revenge. Plain and simple, she had never seen eye to eye with her father seeing his earnestness as naivety especially after losing her mother, hating him for abandoning them; his heart was so huge yet he had no room for his own family. She was his only child but he hadn't come to her on bended knees pleading for her forgiveness after her mother died, no he had committed even harder to fighting for strangers. She didn't care what others said about how good and kind he was, she was angry. Devastatingly filled with resentment and that hadn't dissipated with his untimely passing, her last words to him had truly been what was in her heart.

But, it wasn't all that was in her heart.

He'd been a first love, the first man to show her unconditional love. Then he'd broken her heart and taken that unconditional love and spread it thin until she barely had a sliver left.

Despite all of these thoughts swimming in her mind like a tornado whirling until her brain feels dizzy she's proud of what they've done. Watching the factory burn ruthlessly made her skin feel like it was similarly enflamed, flames licking at her skin and looking over at the man who'd made this all possible set other parts of her body on fire.

He was infuriating, a wolf in sheep's clothing where she just wanted the wolf without the sham.

Squirming in her seat, she pretends to stare out the window sneaking glances at his profile. Cataloging the parts of his face that are still visible, the point of his nose that looms over the smooth lines of his lips and those eyes, they are docile now none of the killer intent that had been there in the bathroom as he asphyxiated a man in a dirty bathroom with merely a wire hanger. He was dangerous but that didn't make her want to keep her distance, no it lured her even closer like a moth to a flame.

Her entire life had been a series of barely thought out mistakes, what was one more? At least this one would be fun. She was hoping he fucked like he fought, rough and with singular focus. Betting on it.

"Should I drop you home Cha-young ssi?," the voice of her father's right hand man breaks the silence they'd been enduring. In her peripheral Vincenzo moves tuning into the conversation, no longer muttering to himself in what she can only assume is Italian.

"No. I'm going with him, we have something to discuss." She replies with confidence, nodding over to the man with pursed lips. He stares back at her with a lifted brow to which she responds with her own brow, exaggerated so far that it makes her mouth falls open and he tilts his head at her looking dumbfounded. She shrugs patting his knee, he doesn't need to know. They have plans he'll get on board soon enough.

Joo-Sung quickly looks between them clear questions in his eyes, she stares at him hard and he flinches before focusing on the road. Still fearing her more despite seeing first hand what Vincenzo is capable of she almost preens from the satisfaction, there's nothing quite like invoking that level of fright in another.

It's the little things in life.

Shockingly enough the Italian Korean doesn't argue, sighing before leaning back further into his seat seemingly deciding that it's not worth the headache. It won't be that hard to train him it seems, she silently hopes that he's more defiant behind closed doors she needs the aggression tonight.

If he could see the salacious things running through her head she wonders how he would react, would it make him hot under the collar? Make him pin her to the car and rip the protective suit from her body until all that remained was her quivering breasts and aching core, even Joo-Sung sitting right beside her isn't enough to qualm her imaginings. She needs his hands on her twisting her into position and hungrily devouring everything she's offering, desperately wants to use one of his many ties to render him motionless as she takes him apart.

The wetness pooling between her legs is slippery now, dripping into the delicate lace of her panties she shifts to relieve some of the pressure but the opposite happens and she rubs against her already swollen bead her imagination quickly making her spiral out of the realm of acceptable behavior. A small moan falls from her lips and Vincenzo stiffens next to her, acutely aware of her now she can feel his eyes on her as he tries not to look.

She swallows the moan that threatens to escape as she watches him lick his lips from the tail of his eyes, he picks up a bottle of water with an ever present air of nonchalance that she wants to shatter to pieces, her deviance the sledgehammer. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and she wants to be the nectar sliding down his throat, she hasn't had sex in months and everything about him screams good fuck.

She just needs scientific proof to back up that hypothesis.

Keeping her eyes straight ahead she places her hand innocuously between them, slowly walking her finger over to his thigh until she reaches the thick meat of his leg and feels him jump under her coy touch. At first, he tenses the muscles coiled tight under the pads of her fingers. They always look so enticing wrapped in the expensive material of his dress pants, they'll look even better bracketing her thighs as he pounds into her.

"What the hell are you doing?" He hisses at her through clenched teeth. She smirks in response basking in his annoyance.

She answers by running her manicured fingers up the line of his thigh until she reaches the vee of his groin, he instantly grabs her hand in a tight grip before she can complete her journey. She flexes her fingers in his grip and he tightens ever slightly answering her wordless challenge. Biting her lips discretely she reaches up with a free hand to lower the zip of her safety suit, blowing at the skin as its revealed bits of sweat linger on her skin and she wipes at it before running her hands across her neck peeling away the thick curtain of her hair. A few strands sticking to the nape of her neck.

He's watching her, she can feel his eyes trailing her every move. He squeezes painfully at her fingers when she starts to bring the zipper lower, just about passing over the swell of her breast.

"Are you hot Cha-young ssi should I turn on the AC?" Joo-Sung asks trying to be helpful, she barely responds to him nodding her head in decline as she focuses on her prey.

"No. I'm fine, I don't mind the heat." She's talking to Joo-Sung but her message is for Vincenzo alone, anything he can dish out she can take it, will gobble it up eagerly and ask for seconds she's not looking for love, no they're too fucked up for that. This thing between them is purely animalistic.

She fights his hold on her hand with futility, being sighing and pretending to admit defeat. He releases her hand carefully watching her, waiting for her counter attack and she places the dejected hand in her lap before trailing down to vee between her thighs. Pressing one finger against her mound she looks over at him with liquid eyes, he's fixated eyes unblinking as they watch her finger at her clothed entrance. She runs two digits down and under, tilting her head back in faux exhaustion and when she looks over and his gaze is penetrating her face she smiles, playful and mischievous.

"We're here." Joo-Sung states, turning down the radio which had done a great job of smothering her sounds. She'd turned it on initially for that purpose.

Before Vincenzo can even grasp the door handle she clamors over him, straddling his lap lips falling open at the hard line that presses deliciously at her hot center, Joo-Sung sputters in his seat glancing back and forth between them in shock, Vincenzo's face is a storm- his brows furrowed and his lips twisted in a sneer. After minutely grounding down into his hard cock she finally grabs the handle, pulling the door open.

"You were taking too long. Let's go," she easily says with a straight face, swinging her leg over she jumps out of the car, "I'll see you tomorrow." She waves at Joo-Sung before looking back at Vincenzo and beckoning him with a hand. After a moments pause he silently gets out of the car, slamming the door emphatically. Joo-Sung wastes no time before peeling away, racing like the devil is on his tail the car gone within seconds.

"Are you crazy? Why would you do that in front of him?" He immediately grabs her arm tugging her into his face and she almost giggles at his punishing grip on her elbow.

"He won't think anything of it. I've done way worst things to men." She shrugs not fighting his grip instead stepping even further into his orbit, as if he has his own gravitational pull. His eyes flash minutely before he slams into her, grabbing the side of her head and thrusting his tongue through the loose seal of lips eagerly she responds, dragging him down by his shoulders to similarly lick at his mouth, sucking earnestly at his tongue. The kiss is fast and furious, both of them battling for dominance it's wet and messy and she hopes that sex will be the same. She's getting hot and bothered just thinking about it. Suddenly he bends low breaking their kiss catching her off guard before slinging her over his shoulder easily. Her hair tumbles down over his back nearly touching the ground and she squeaks when he slaps her ass, hard.

"You'll do worst things with me." He promises, walking to his apartment with her slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. If she wasn't so turned on she would hate this macho man display but this is what she was waiting for all night. She can hardly look a gift horse in the mouth. But she still grumbles and pounds at his back for show, she has a reputation to uphold after all.

He unlocks the door with her dangling from his shoulder and after stopping to drop the keys in a glass bowl he effortlessly tosses her down onto a couch, she looks up affronted by his callous move but her complaint dies on her tongue as she sees the way he's looking at her, dark eyes undressing her as he looms over her body.

There's surely no need for that.

Feeling generous she leans back unzipping her suit, this time not stopping sliding it down her chest and the cool air makes her nipples perk up under the tight thin material of her tank top. His eyes are like beads of coal as he hungrily stares at her. He reaches out for her, hands barely cupping her breasts before he freezes, searching her face before drawing away. With a groan he spins around before turning back to her, grabbing his hair before taking a deep breath.

"Your father's dead and we just burned down the Babel factory."

She stares at him as he stares at her, waiting for her to have some kind of reaction. Maybe break down into a puddle of emotions.

Honestly she's bone tired of that, riding him all night sounds like a much better use of her time and energy.

"I'm wet enough to end a drought." She replies dryly, tugging the zipper as far as it'll go before stepping out of the restricting article of clothing. Naked smooth legs rubbing against the couch, he follows her movement like a lion stalking its prey.

"What?" His eyes dart down to her newly revealed panties, peering between her legs as if to check the accuracy of her statement.

"Oh, we're not just stating random facts?" She teases playing with the thin straps of her tank top the only thing preserving her remaining dignity.

"What do you want from me?" He looks nervous now, her first time seeing such an expression on that stoic face. It's an easy question to answer though she doesn't even need to think about it.

"Fuck me until I can't think straight."

She will have to deal with the emotions bubbling up beneath the surface, address her complicated relationship and feelings for her father, admit the role that she played in his untimely demise by helping those bastards for years but right now none of that matters, all that matters is the ache between her legs. She wants to stop being guilty for one night.

"Can you do that?" She looks at him pleading, and he peers back she can see the thoughts rolling over in his head and as the seconds drag on longer than she'd anticipated she wonders if she misjudged, maybe she should have accosted her bumbling intern but she'd been terrified he'd want an actual relationship- that was the last thing she was looking for.

She starts to plot how exactly she can seduce him when he unzips his own suit, making her gasp when her eyes land on smooth bare skin his six pack glistens with the light sheen of sweat coating it.

"You wore nothing under? You slut." The corner of his lip lifts in amusement before he stalks over to her, shoving her back onto the cushion and crushing her with his weight she eagerly welcomes it with open arms. Picking up right where he left off her cups her breasts running twin large thumbs across the pebbled skin, it feels good but not quite enough through the cloth of her tank top. Impatiently she shoves the material down baring herself to him, he looks at her with heated eyes before grabbing the naked flesh, twisting the hard points before swallowing her without warning.

She jolts at the sensation, arching into his wet suckling then pushing his head down onto her and whining as he runs his teeth against the swollen mounds. She wraps her legs around his waist grinding into the hard erection jutting from his tight boxer briefs. Only he would have Versace boxers, if he wasn't thoroughly dismantling her she would be ribbing him. Pompous jack ass. Harshly pulling him away from her chest she stares at his face, his eyes are glossy and his lips are red and shiny, he looks like sin. Sexy pompous jack ass.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks her stupidly and she tugs her shirt over her head before lifting up and pulling down her panties, completely nude underneath him. She doesn't get stage fright.

"Are you sure? Can you handle it?" She bites out rocking her naked pussy over his clothed hardness and he hisses at the motion, something foreign falling from his lips. Immediately it makes her hot, boiling hot admittedly him speaking Italian is a thing for her, even when he's cursing at her and his spittle is flying everywhere. Fucking sexy as hell. It turns her wild in his lap, grounding onto him until his boxers are completely drenched from her a dark spot forming. This time he grabs her, forcing her down to bite at her neck before swallowing the moans from her tongue.

They twist around each other like serpents, tongues and bodies entwined. He's running his hands through her hair, tugging at the strands and using them to reign her in whenever she breaks free to gasp for air. Her hips are relentless as she grinds onto him, never pausing as he rubs against her swollen clit lust drunk as arousal consumes her brain. The smack of the elastic of his boxers snaps her back to lucidity and when she peers down she sees his long rigid pole, standing at attention the waist band of his boxers just under his heavy balls.

He grabs her hips before sliding through the sopping wet fold of her center and she screams at the intense pleasure that quakes through her body, all her synapses are firing off simultaneously. All connected to the spot deep instead her core.

"You got us....ahhh this far. You...hmmm finish it." He can barely get the words out groaning and thrusting up to meet her downward grind and she doesn't need to be told twice, she grabs the base of his thick cock rubbing the blunt head at her entrance once, twice before lifting higher and holding him tightly as she slides down, down onto him until his balls are nuzzling her bottom. He's big, bigger than she's used to and she whines at the burning stretch, muscle sore from not being used. Pushing through the discomfort she drags up slowly, carefully before throwing caution to the wind and slamming back down, the slap of their skin connecting loud in the quiet room.

He groans loudly, fingers sinking into her hips as he pounds into her. Not an ounce of gentleness in his plundering of her body. There will be bruises, she's looking forward to it.

He lets her ride him, filthy sounding Italian words falling from his open mouth the rhythm is fast, almost ridiculously so with both of them slamming back together each time they pull apart as if they can't bear the separation. When a particular thrust nudges him perfectly against her clit, she screams scratching down the smooth expanse of his belly, red lines left in her wake. He hisses at the pain but doesn't slow down, yanking her down faster to meet his thrust upwards and it feels so good she collapses onto his chest, drooling from the intense pleasure. She feels his fingers twist in the thick cord of her hair before her head is drawn back, "You look like you're still thinking, I'm not fucking hard enough."

He's smirking. She knows what she looks like, she's basically jelly in his arms. She looks shameless, seducing a man she barely knows and letting him fuck her like this on a couch. Her head lolls in his hand and she almost misses the small smile that stretches across his lips before he sits up and pushes her out of his lap, she cries out at the sudden departure but seconds later he pushes her over the arm of the couch, spreading her thighs, sticking a long finger inside her and humming in satisfaction at the sloshing moisture before slamming back in.

"Ti piace quello?" (Do you like that?) She doesn't have the slightest idea what he said but she moans anyway, nodding frantically. He switches back to Korean whispering into her ear, "If I'd have known this was all it took to shut you up I would have done this much sooner." This time she hisses at him, curling her hand around his neck and bringing them face to face, twisted over her own shoulder. He fucks her as they breath the same air, mouths wide open as they pant into each other. Reaching under her he thumbs at her breasts, she jumps at the dual sensation mind heady as he pounds into her over and over again.

When he brings one hand down her expertly finding her clit and rubbing at it ardently she loses her mind, gasping and sputtering about; her body tingling as he assaults her from all angles his cock big and piercing inside of her.

"Say my name."

She's too busy losing her goddamn mind, the arm rest the sole thing keeping her afloat then he growls from behind her, squeezing her breast in perfect synchrony as he thrusts deep inside her and his fingers play her clit like a violin, she wails tightening around him as she feels a red hot burn from deep inside her bursting to the surface. She's so close.

"Say my fucking name." He demands slapping at her ass cheek and she arches at the stinging blow, her back curving beautifully.

"Vincenzo!" With barely any air in her lungs she rasps out, hoarse and breathless. He grabs her neck, pulling her back taut she shivers under the rough treatment.

"Again."

He curls his hands around her neck, not quite cutting off her airway but making it harder to breathe. She feels light-headed but then he releases and air rushes to her lungs, he groans as she melts further onto his hardness every inch of him encased in her.

"Vincenzo," she begs, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Questa figa è mio." (This pussy is mine.) He whispers darkly, the bastard knows what he's doing, that smug grin on his face confirms it but her body reacts regardless lighting up like a Christmas tree for her. Her body is one giant pleasure point and he is pushing all of her buttons, one by one.

She feels like she's going to explode but just when she's on the edge, so close to the precipice seconds away from falling over and reaching nirvana he stops, the bastard. He stops everything, pulling out of her achingly slow until she's empty and unsatisfied she growls in frustration spinning around with fire and brimstone in her eyes.

"I've thought about fucking you. A lot. It can't end too soon." She glances down at his burgeoning hard on swinging between them, ahhh so she wasn't the only one about to explode. Interesting. But her throbbing center feels no sympathy, too upset about the premature stop of pleasure.

"I didn't think Italians were the type to leave a woman unsatisfied. Next time I'll fin--" She never gets to complete her sentence because he slaps a large hand over her mouth.

"St 'zitto." (Shut up.) He barks and her face is drenched in a familiar downpour, he was definitely cursing at her but before she can retaliate he's lifting her off the couch, forcing her legs around his slim waist. She latches onto his shoulder for balance too, rubbing her naked chest against him enticingly ready to start back where they left of.

"If you want me to understand you need to speak Korean. Translate." She complains and he slams her into a wall causing her to cry out as her back hits the hard surface, his hand is large around her head softening that blow gratefully.

"I think you understand well enough."

He stares directly into her eyes, reaching down to force her legs further apart and before he can move she forces her feet into the dimples of his knee, he tumbles forward and with that momentum she sheathes him once more purring at the burn and stretch. He slams her hands above her head and she snaps her teeth at him, aggressively thrusting forward onto his cock forcing him to drill deeper into her.

She gasps when he unexpectedly grabs her wrists in one hand and twists them behind her back. She tugs, but his grip is too tight. Too powerful. She can't move not without his permission.

"What are you doing?" She groans fighting his hold without success.

Leaning forward he tugs her ear lobe into his scorching mouth, feeding the words straight into the organ. "You're still thinking. I'm not doing a good job."

She opens her mouth to scoff but the sounds shrivels up and dies when he slams her up the wall, sliding out before dropping her and impaling her on his thick column, his hand tightens on her wrists as she fights to break free. He does it again, driving deeper and harder and her screams are breathless and soundless, all she can do is feel. He ravishes her chest, swallowing the swollen buds and biting at the ruddy tips until her chest is sore and wet with his spit. With her wrist behind her back he steps back, placing her back on the wall and creating an angle to better fuck into her, loud smacks filling the air every time he plunges in, hammering at her walls with singular focus. She's a whimpering mess, high pitched sighs all that she can produce.

"Cha-young ssi?" He seductively whispers in her ears, she can barely hear him over the blood rushing to her head but she nods, groaning in response his thrusts are relentless and unyielding. Why isn't his brain mush too?

"Who's pussy is this?" Her brain stutters at the question, she's only heard things like that in American porn. Never had words like that uttered to her by a partner, if she did she would laugh in their face and promptly leave. But he looks deadly serious as he awaits her reply. Slowing down his movements, but grinding deeper circling on her clit with each languid motion. She really wants to fucking come. He's such an unnecessary tease.

Swallowing her pride, she mentally curses her pussy this was all its fault.

When he starts to stop she panics and tightens her legs around his him, shouting, "Yours! It's your pussy!"  Goddamit, why did he have to be this persistent? It was his for tonight. 

It's the right answer, he lets her come.

Multiple times.

Until her toes curl and her legs feel like jelly.

She doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the night, even when he breaks her apart and she blacks out and falls asleep, bad dreams chase her but he fucks her awake preemptively cutting off those thoughts too. Turning her screams of terror into screams of pleasure.

This time she puts his ties to good use, one bounding his wrists together and another wrapped around his eyes.

Tomorrow, she'll face reality. Tonight is for bad ideas.

What's a one night stand between enemies?

[vrishchikawrites]

About YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids Post-WWX Arrival

Dear Dee, feel free to delete or ignore this or post it, whatever floats your boat. This just stuck in my head after those posts and I had to blurt it all to someone. Thanks for taking the time to read my word vomit.

So I had to do this instead of an ask because it got long and I wasn't sure how many asks it'd need or how short I could cut it down without losing parts of the argument. And then other things came up as I was writing and, well.  Well..... >_>;;;; 

But you know, after that post/ask you had about YZY fics saying 'Fuck U' to YMJ/JFM & leaving both with her kids, I had a sarcastic 'yeah right' attitude about it. Mainly due to a lot of negation emotions to such an abusive (and delusional) bitch, partly due to how she wouldn't do that since it doesn't seem to be something her sort of character would consider either because she'd think of it as 'losing' (losing what, IDK, it's why I consider her type of person crazy) or she legit wouldn't think about such a viable action.

But then later, in the shower, I seriously went 'Wait, she can't fucking do that' and it wouldn't be about how MXTX uses her as a part of the narrative but entirely about the/their culture in the novel; the actions that have and would be taken in response; and her entire toxic personality as well.

1) We already know that the sects and the cultivation world in general is sexist, elitist and so Capital T 'Traditional' to the point that it's starting to petrify and any deviancy from this is an exception rather than the norm. YZY might be a madame of a great sect (for what that's worth considering how shit of a madame she's been and the titles she's chosen for herself) but she's still a woman even with her high rank and the things she's personally accomplished.

Even if she was in her rights to leave a 'bad' marriage, she'd be the one who'd get scolded more instead of JFM by her natal family, her former husband's family and by their entire society at large even if she had a few singular supporters. Because That's Not How Things Are Done in their society and I do believe that such a thing was rare even when it was accepted method by the upper echelons. Especially since it would have to be done by more than YZY simply deciding that She Wants Out and just- goes and Gets Out. With no serious allegations that would allow her to divorce or separate from YMJ/JFM without the input from her family, JFM's family and, I think, possibly some measure of compensation as well. And no, having or bringing in a 'bastard child' is not a serious enough offence for such a humongous decision. I think something more along the lines of treason or crimes against multiple, high-ranking parties would be more along the lines. Maybe.

And even if she does this, she'd be considered 'Used Goods' (such a terrible comment) and there'd be no other good/proper marriage prospects for a divorced woman with children let alone a woman like YZY with her entire abrasive personality and attitude put off even easy-going JFM.

(If she'd been widowed then it'd be more forgiven but I consider that a Real Bad End since, IMO, it would lead to the sudden and inevitable decline of YMJ either via mass exodus of disciples and/or residents of LP; being merged with another sect due to it's unstable leadership; or create an internal political war 'cause I bet you anything that the YMJ Elders/relatives (if they have any) Would Not Want YZY in charge of YMJ when she's already proven herself such a shit betrothed let alone madame.)

2) Speaking of families, while YMJ/JFM/LP as a whole might be glad to see YZY's back, I don't think her natal sect, MSY, will be glad to see her come storming back after all the effort they put into getting that particular marriage alliance with YMJ. And if she brings her children with her? Oh man, oh boy- mother or not, that could be considered as kidnapping or line theft (is that a thing?) especially if YZY is also seriously considering divorce proceedings and raising them as Yu and not Jiang. That could give leave to, for anyone more unforgiving and maybe JFM if he's pushed enough, disown both JYL and JWY from the Jiangs through no fault of their own (though I'm sure YZY would make it so as well as blame JFM for her own decisions and mistakes).

Therefore, any inheritance or benefits they might gain for being legitimised children of a great sect are forfeited. JYL will likely lose that betrothal with JZX because JGS will drop it like a hot potato and JWY won't be a sect heir because YZY literally decided to remove that by deciding to raise JWY as a Yu, no matter their blood relation to JFM. They leave him, they leave YMJ and everything attached with it. Which is if YMJ/JFM doesn't demand MSY to give back their heir/ess and to punish YZY for her actions. Or send all three of them back for the appropriate reactions/decisions.

Their society would demand no less in reaction because, to them, it would seem like YZY had gone mad and JFM would look weak (or weaker) and imply that YMJ is vulnerable and exploitable if JFM doesn't do something in response to her actions. That's not even getting into what the other smaller sects may try to do in an attempt to curry favour with YMJ or what LLJ or QSW would try in order to destroy or diminish YMJ. And whether JFM chooses to demand his children back or not, it may not change the fact that this may give him reason enough to choose a nephew or niece to be the new sect heir especially if, even after getting rid of YZY's poisonous influence, JWY grows up to be his mother's child more than his father's or even his own person.

Either way, such a thing would bring great backlash on YZY, and MSY as well as the collateral. No one would want to give face to her or her children because it would bring up some very uncomfortable questions and scenarios to the other sects- specifically, what would happen if the female members of their clans/sets decided to follow the footsteps of YZY and leave with their children and heirs. Especially if they use it as an excuse to leave for their own comfort and whims and not some legitimate wrongs and dangers. That would create some more restrictions on women thanks to YZY

3) And lastly, if any one of those idiot YZY stans think that she'd ever give up the status of being a madame of a great sect they'd be as crazy or crazier than her. YZY is all about status and power and face. Specifically, her status, power and face and how people in her reach reflect her or 'insult' her. She is a selfish, terrible, abusive and toxic person and can only see people in regards to how they would benefit her and the elevation of her and in no other way. Especially her family. They cannot be their own person, they can only be an extension of her and gods forbid they go against her.

We can see this in how she treats the people she supposedly loves. JFM? Arguments day in, day out along with accusations and slander of cheating, having one(1) supposed 'bastard' and being 'in love' with CSSR. Which all seems sus as hell. And that's when she's actually there and not out 'night hunting'. Even her 'training' seems to border on unhelpful rather then helpful if my vague recollections of juniors fainting from exhaustion can be relied upon (please call me out if they're not or find proof).

JYL? Berated by not being 'strong' but not helped at all to be 'strong'. It doesn't help that YZY seems to believe in the same standards strength in their society- that is, of martial masculine strength which does not and should not apply to JYL who has been said to be sickly. Which means h should have been learning a different way of cultivation/fighting anyway.  If that was something she wanted and had been offered in the first place- which I doubt. That isn't even getting into her repeated generational trauma mess of a betrothal which was decided only by those 'sworn sisters', accepted by her as a way out of her terrible home life and puts her squarely within reach of JGS who we know to be a womaniser, rapist, predator and a possible ephebophile considering we don't know the exact age of his youngest 'conquest' or the age of MZY's mother when they met which could be anywhere from 14 to 21.

JWY? Gods, so much meta on him and his(non-) relationships with his parents that I don't think I can contribute more to it. It's been all said and done. Unless people want me to stir the pot by saying that, maybe, just maybe, YZY resents JWY as much as she 'loves' him.Either because he's her son and yet never manages to 'accomplish as much' as WWX or because he's a boy and therefore, more benefits and allowances than a girl/woman- more than anything that YZY ever got without either a fight or screaming at someone about. *shrug*

So, in conclusion to this sudden an unexpected essay that I wrote(I'm so sorry about that, I thought it would be shorter -.-;;;;), YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids? Impossible. Not without some sort of personality transplant or a complete AU. She's too prideful, too bitter, too angry, too everything negative and little positive. She's a resentful product of the values and restraints of her society taken to the extreme negative with a willingness to inflict her pain on others to an abusive degree. But she's also too obsessed and reliant on those same values and restraints to keep up the image of her status. So her? Giving those up? You'd be more likely to see WRH as a doting grandfather than that.

---

Dee - All of this is true and yes YZY leaving YMJ is highly unlikely. While there will be consequences if she decides to leave, she does canonically lives separately from her husband. They seem to be in a situation where they are married but living separately, which was a common way to end a marriage (at least in spirit) back then. She essentially had all the perks of being Madam Jiang but fulfilled none of the responsibilities.

Afaik, her training the Jiang disciples is a donghua thing? I may be wrong but I recall she spent most of her time nighthunting.

As for taking her children along with her- that's completely impossible. At that point, children were the property of the father. She could leave but she would've never been allowed to take JC.

[makeste]

I read the meta you reposted about anyone being able to become a hero, and I would just like to give some thoughts. I agree it is wrong to think in terms of good vs bad victims and measure everyone as the same. Just because Shoto never killed anyone in response to his abuse and Toya did doesn't mean that Toya was always an evil person looking for an excuse to break bad. Different people break from different things.

these are all good, well-reasoned points, anon, but I disagree with a few of them. let me try to explain.

so the thing about this whole atonement process is that it’s hugely complex, and there isn’t really any kind of roadmap for Endeavor to follow when it comes to trying to make things right. I actually appreciate that his arc is written in such a way that his epiphany doesn’t just happen all at once, and you can see how his approach gradually turns from one that’s still mostly selfish and centered on him, to one that’s actually focused on his kids and what they need. you can see the stages he progresses through as the series goes on.

1. I’d argue that it all starts when he first gets yelled at by Deku (“Todoroki isn’t you!”). he realizes that maybe this kid has got a point, and that treating his son as an extension of him rather than as his own person might just be sorta shitty. so he files that away, but we don’t really see much of a change in him yet.

2. then a few months later he gets thrust into the #1 hero role, which has the interesting psychological effect of forcing him to see past himself and his ego for perhaps the first time in his life. he suddenly finds himself in this position as the new Symbol, and starts to feel the responsibility of that, and it basically triggers the entire rest of his redemption arc. because once he starts looking outside himself, he starts to realize the impact his actions have on other people, including his family. for the first time, he starts looking at the situation with fresh eyes, and realizes how much he’s hurt them.

3. quick little detour here, I feel like it’s important to note that Endeavor -- like many abusers -- actually does love his family and never intentionally set out to hurt them. but the problem is that he is so self-centered for most of his life that he never stops to consider that his family and his kids don’t simply exist to serve his own purposes. he abuses Shouto during his training but I’ll bet you he himself never thought of it as actual abuse, just him being hard on him in order to toughen him up. he thinks he’s doing what’s best for Shouto by making him strong in the hopes that he’ll one day surpass All Might, because that’s always been his goal, and so he just unilaterally decides that should be Shouto’s goal too. he wants the best for him, but it never enters his mind to consider that his son is his own person who, gasp, might not actually want the same things that Endeavor wants. btw I should clarify that absolutely none of this excuses anything he does, holy shit. but I feel like it’s important to mention, because many people complain that the change in Endeavor happens too abruptly and is too unrealistic, but I don’t think that’s true at all. it’s just that people don’t like to acknowledge that abusers are still human (meaning that anyone can become one if they’re not careful to consider how they treat others). Endeavor’s actions are monstrous, but they stem from realistic places, and I think that it’s a very well-thought-out character arc.

4. and so basically, once that change finally starts happening, it’s not that he suddenly starts loving his kids all of a sudden out of nowhere. it’s that he finally starts loving them for their own sake, rather than his. for the first time, he starts loving them selflessly rather than selfishly. and it’s not a change that just happens overnight, because he is so used to everything revolving around him that even after he starts realizing what he’s doing wrong, it still takes him a while to break free from those patterns.

5. and so for example, he suddenly becomes wildly supportive of Shouto and his training and attempts to go full-blown helicopter parent. because clearly that’s what Shouto needs, right?? all those years he was trying to make him into his own personal mini-me rather than loving his son for who he was and supporting him as his own person. and so we see him hounding Shouto in texts to let him teach him his Ultimate Technique (but not because he wants him to surpass All Might, but because he just wants him to be the best hero he can be! it’s different now!), and attending his training sessions to cheer him on from the stands like an obnoxious soccer mom. and afterwards he tells him he’s proud of him, and that he wants to become someone Shouto can be proud of.

6. so you can see there’s some progress at this point, but at the same time he’s still making a lot of the same mistakes. his intentions by this point have genuinely changed! but he’s still looking at the situation from his own point of view, and not taking into consideration how his son feels about the forced attempts at reconciliation. he’s thinking ‘I was a shit father, I need to make it up to him by being supportive.’ but he doesn’t stop to consider that Shouto might not WANT his support by this stage in the game; that he might, in fact, not want anything to do with him at all.

7. and this doesn’t change until after his battle at Fukuoka, when he has dinner with his family and Natsuo blows up at him. he basically lays it all out on the table, but this is the most important part:

I am willing to bet that he did not, in fact, get it until pretty much that moment, actually. because up until this point, he’s been doing exactly as Natsuo said -- trying to make nice, trying to show that he’s changed, and to be a good father now. but he doesn’t stop to consider (a) just how much hurt he really has caused them, and (b) just how impossible it is to simply erase all of that. the pain Natsuo’s expressing here isn’t something people can simply get over. and I don’t think Enji realizes until this moment that he was still going about this in the wrong way.

8. and that, lastly, is what finally leads to this:

he finally realizes that it’s not about him. and apologizes, but makes it clear that Natsuo does not have to forgive him, and that he doesn’t want to burden him by making him feel otherwise. he acknowledges Natsuo’s feelings, acknowledges the pain he’s caused, and realizes that what he and the others need is space. and this is when he makes the decision to build the new home for them and Rei, so that they can finally start to move on -- without him, if that’s what it takes.

so this is basically the progression of Endeavor’s redemption arc up to this point. and I’m sorry it took so long to recap, I didn’t mean for it to lol, but there were a lot of parts I didn’t want to just gloss over. so now, here are a few last points I want to make about his arc.

1. first off, it’s important to consider the timeline here. when making your point earlier, you talked about Endeavor building the new home for his kids, but how “on the other hand” he kept trying to force his relationship with Shouto. however the order of these things is switched around. because Endeavor building the house is something that happens at the end of his arc. and in fact we have not seen him try to force anything with Shouto since then. this is important to acknowledge because it shows that he is learning and that it’s not just an insincere case of one step forward, two steps back. the progress he’s making here is genuine; he really is trying not to be selfish anymore.

2. I know I said “the end” of his arc just now, but in fact we have no reason to believe that this is the end of it. every time I see an argument about “well why hasn’t he done this yet, or why hasn’t he said this”, I wonder why people assume that just because he hasn’t done it yet, it means we’re never going to see it. for instance, he still hasn’t apologized to Shouto specifically for the way he abused him all those years. but just because we haven’t seen it yet doesn’t mean that it won’t happen.

3. fandom has this tendency, when it comes to characters they don’t like and don’t want to see redeemed, to continuously move the goalposts so that no matter what that character does and how much they change, they can continue to justify why it’s not enough. I’m going to take a quick break from Endeavor and use Bakugou as the example here instead, since I think it’s easier to summarize.

“Bakugou is such an asshole, all he cares about is himself, he’s definitely going to become a villain.”

[Bakugou refuses to join the villains] “well whatever, he’s still a jerk, just look at how he can’t even work together with others and refuses to help anyone.”

[Bakugou learns to Win and Save, and unlocks the Power of Teamwork] “well whatever, he still doesn’t care about anyone else. look at how he’s still an asshole to Deku even now.”

[Bakugou starts helping Deku train and learn how to control OFA] “whatever, that’s literally the bare minimum, there’s still no proof that he even cares about him.”

[Bakugou literally takes a life-threatening blow to save Deku] “whatever, it’s like he said, his body moved on its own so there’s still no proof he really cares.”

[Bakugou wakes up from a two-day coma, immediately asks about Deku’s health, and rushes to his bedside] “whatever, I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss over it, he hasn’t even apologized to him yet.”

and so on and so forth. and I guarantee that once he finally does apologize, it will then shift to “well why couldn’t he just have done that in the first place.” but you get my point.

basically, there are certain characters whose redemption arcs fandom will actively continue to deny no matter what. Bakugou is one of those characters, and so is Endeavor. and I’m not saying that in order to call those people out, because everyone has their own boundaries of forgiveness, and I don’t have the right to dictate anyone else’s, just like they don’t have the right to dictate mine. everyone has their own line, and where it’s drawn is different for each person. like for me, the one particular character who can fuck off for all eternity as far as I’m concerned is Overhaul (although I admit I am still curious to see what Horikoshi has planned for him post-prison break in spite of all that). and there are a lot of other people for whom Endeavor crosses their own personal line. and you know what, that’s fine.

but here’s the thing -- if you actually want to debate his redemption arc with people, you should be willing to do so in good faith. meaning that if you really do think Endeavor is unforgiveable (and I’m speaking now in general terms, not addressing you specifically anon), just go ahead and say so! but don’t come up with an arbitrary list of criteria that he needs to meet in order to qualify for redemption, only to keep on adding more and more items to the list. and most importantly, don’t assume that your criteria are the only valid criteria and that you can speak for everyone else. and especially don’t act like you have a right to go around slapping people with labels like “abuse apologist” just because they don’t share the same opinions as you about a fictional character.

anyway! so as usual, a post that I originally meant to be only a few paragraphs long turned out to be a whole damn essay, I apologize. but anyways anon, basically I share the same opinion as you as far as the mindset that Endeavor needs to have for his atonement (i.e. that it’s not about him). however, I think he’s made more progress than this ask gives him credit for, and I don’t think any of it has been fake. that being said, it’s still a process, and his biggest tests are yet to come. whatever ends up happening, I hope the outcome ends up being one that the rest of his family can find peace with.

[mrskisaki]

This has been in my head for a few days so I decided to finally write it, hopefully, it comes out good. Reading @redhairedace fic gave me the final push to stop procrastinating lmaoo. I hope y'all like this since y'all know how I feel about writing fics so it's gonna be short lmaoo

I love this song and it's very underrated: Perfect- Selena Gomez

THIS TOOK ME 3 HOURS, PLZ LIKE IT, I LOVED WRITING IT (not proof read)

Perfect

Sanji x reader 18+

Different inflection when you say my name

Kiss me, but your kiss don't taste the same

Is it real or am I going out of my mind?

”Sanji! You're back! How was your trip, did you find any new foods?” Rushing to greet your lover, you leaned up to kiss him, craving that warm loving kiss and embrace that you've missed while he was away. But instead, the kiss you received was cold and stiff. ”It was fine (y/n), I have to go prepare dinner for tonight, now if you'll excuse me.” He dismissed himself, walking towards the kitchen but before turning ”Nami-swann~ that outfit looks amazing on you! Is there anything specific you want to eat tonight?” With hearts in his eyes, he listened to her request and rushed off to make it, leaving you standing there wondering if it was something you said.

Curious 'bout the company that you keep

'Cause I hear you talking 'bout her in your sleep

And now you've got me talking 'bout her in mine

Glancing at the clock, you rolled over wondering why you were awoken at this godawful hour but thought nothing of it since you were wrapped in your lover's tight embrace. Closing your eyes, you listened to the beating of his heart and allowing it to lull you back to sleep, it almost worked until you heard him speak ”Oh Nami-swan~, you're so beautiful. I love you, please marry me...” frozen, you tried to convince yourself that you misheard him but the fact that he let you go and turned his back to you had you thinking otherwise. The coldness that crept upon you made you realize that you were never warm, to begin with.

Ooh, and I bet she has it all

Bet she's beautiful like you, like you

And I bet she's got that touch

Makes you fall in love, like you, like you

You sat in silence, watching him cut vegetables for the upcoming meal. You never once brought up what you heard that night, thinking that maybe you misheard what was said because of your fatigue but the distance between you two started to grow with each passing day. ”Sanji... Is everything okay? You've been distant lately, are you alright?” Putting a hand upon his shoulder, you try to make eye contact but he shrugs you off ”I'm fine, you're disturbing me and if you don't mind, can you leave? Oh and tell Nami-swan~ that I’ll have her dessert out in a minute, thanks.” Turning around, he resumed his previous tasks, leaving you standing there staring at the back of his head without a second glance. Leaving the kitchen, you did as he asked and the smile on Nami’s face didn’t sit right with you.

I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest

I can feel the distance every time you remember her fingertips

Maybe I should be more like her

Maybe I should be more like her

I can taste her lipstick, it's like I'm kissing her, too

And she's perfect

And she's perfect

Sweat glistening on the two bodies tangling in the sheets, moving in sync with each other but it wasn’t the lovemaking that you were used to; it was dull and felt like just a way to relieve stress. There was no sweet nothings whispered in your ears, no soft kisses on your breasts and no hand-holding, not even eye contact, instead, it was something to just get over with. Getting close to his edge, he sped up in his thrusts “F-fuck Nami-swan, you feel so good” cumming in you and catching his breath, he pulled out and went into the bathroom to clean himself then returned to bed and turned his back to you, leaving you with the familiar coldness creeping upon you. Getting up to go finish yourself off and wash, you couldn’t help the tears that ran down your face. You knew it was over, it's been over long before you noticed.

How does she touch you? can I try it, too?

I know you're twisted, but baby, I'm twisted, too

I wanna know how she could make a man lose his mind

”Sanji you goof put me down!” ”Ahh but Nami-swannn~ this dress makes you look like the most beautiful princess the world has ever seen! Thank you for blessing me with such a sight!” Spinning Nami once more, he set her down but didn't let go. Their harmonious laughs echoed around the deck, she truly did look like a princess; a princess that took everything you had. They were a sight to see, a perfect picture and you were the outcast. “Oi (y/n)! Come play tag with me, Usopp, and Chopper!” Being dragged away from the scene is what stopped the thoughts in your head. No matter what you told yourself, you knew what was going to happen and all you could do is just sit there and wait for it to happen. Bracing yourself day by day for the inevitable that would bring you pain, no matter how hard you tried, you just weren't her, you weren't good enough for Sanji.

With the smell of her perfume

I could love her, too, like you, like you

And I can almost hear her laugh

Curving on her back for you, for you

Sighing from the stress of the day, you wanted nothing more than to sleep the night away but upon reaching your shared room, you heard it. The sweet soft moans of the woman who captured your lover's heart and the rocking of the bed. “Yes Sanji, right there! I fuck you better than she does, don’t I?” “F-fuck.. Nami, you’re better than her in every way. I love you” You could tell by the pitch in his voice that he was close to his peak and by the increase in volume in hers, she wasn’t far behind. Standing there behind the closed door, you wonder how many times they've slept in the same bed that you sleep in at night, how many times has he told her that he loves her, how many times has he told you he loved you and not meant it.

I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest

I can feel the distance every time you remember her fingertips

Maybe I should be more like her

Maybe I should be more like her

I can taste her lipstick, it's like I'm kissing her, too

And she's perfect

You knew this day was coming but it still filled you with anxiety and made your stomach turn. The silence in the cold room didn’t help to ease the harsh thumping of your heart. When he opened his mouth, you knew what words would spill out ”I'm sorry (y/n) but I no longer love you. It’s not you, it’s me. I woke up one day and the sparks were gone and Nami- Nami was there, my feelings for her were greater than the ones I had for you. It was a mistake confessing to you, it was lust, not love. I’m in love with Nami, I'm sorry” The way he looked at you is what devastated you the most; apathetic. You truly meant nothing to him, 3 years together, 3 years of laughter, of smiles, of love meant nothing to him. He watched as you wept, looking down on you as if you were the one in the wrong. Turning around to leave the room, he called out once more with the coldest voice you've ever heard ”Make sure you have all your belongings and move them back into your old room before dinner.” Shutting the door behind him, you couldn't help the sobs that escaped your mouth.

I can see her body rushing into you

Crashing on your skin

Burning within, burning so deep, deep

On your skin, skin next to me

She's crashing on your skin

Settling in, burning so deep, deep

On your skin, skin while you sleep, uh

“Z-zoro, I don’t know what I did wrong... I gave him everything and I still wasn’t enough.” Cradling your body into his, he sighed. Zoro knew of what Sanji and Nami were doing, the whole crew knew but there's nothing they can do about what's already done. The swordsman wanted to kill the cook and would have if you didn't forbid him from doing so. Moving a piece of hair out of your face and wiping the endless tears away, he felt his heart shatter with the look on your face; broken, Sanji had broken you and didn’t even care. “(y/n)...I know it hurts but you’ll be better, it’ll make you stronger. I know you loved him but you have to let him go, if you let me, I want to be the one to pick up the pieces. I won’t rush you into anything you don’t want but no matter what, I’ll be here for you” tilting your head up, staring into his eyes, two hearts beat in sync with the other. Taking a deep breath, you leaned in, foreheads touching, breaths mixed into one “Are you sure?” Putting a hand upon your cheek, wiping a stray tear with his thumb “Yes.” Lips collide and a piece of the broken heart gets picked up.

I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest

I can feel the distance every time you remember her fingertips

Maybe I should be more like her

Maybe I should be more like her

I can taste her lipstick, it's like I'm kissing her, too

And she's perfect

[morgana-ren]

I noticed youd said that you get more shiggy requests. So, if you'll indulge me for a sec.

We've had gatos input on how strade would be if the roles were reversed. Mc somehow had him under their control with the shock collar on.

I want your input because your writing is so detailed i know id enjoy reading what a submissive little bitch he'd become.

Please and thank you Morgana.

ily :3

Oh OH You know me so well! This is one of my favorite things to daydream about when I get angry or annoyed because since Strade is such a garbage human being, it tickles me so much to think about how cathartic it would be to turn the tables.

So as well all know, Strade, while very experienced, is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s got years of know-how behind his expertise in kidnapping and torture, but there’s some shit that just kind of evades him sometimes. Double checking your ropes after he gets a little too excited and wants a dirty basement floor romp, for example. Thanks to his overexcitement and shit-idiot brain fungus he’s got going on, it’s entirely possible for you to slip your bonds. This mistake, in canon, costs him his life. 

But what if MC wasn’t so kind? 

With a level head, you might be able to scrounge around his torture room for a little bit. Maybe he has a needle with some knockout liquid hanging around for “difficult” catches. Maybe you just wait around behind the door until he walks in and smash him on the head as hard as you can and knock his ass out. Either way, he’s got plenty of restraints, and now he’s the one cuffed to a rusty pole. The look on his dumb face when he comes to is priceless. 

You’re not making the same mistakes he did. He’s triple tied to that thing. You know he’s strong, and you’re playing on his home field. You’ve got to be prepared for everything. At least long enough to get upstairs and find help or call the police. Right? Right? 

But what if you don’t?

What if, after he comes to and is sputtering and howling and hissing things at you in German that would make Lindemann blush, you decide not to go for help? He’s mad. He’s oh so very mad. He does not like this, not one bit. But he’s panicking beyond what you’d expect, even for a serial killer who’s been two-timed by his own victim. There’s something else in those dilated eyes. Something you’ve become very acutely familiar with over the last few days. You can still smell it lingering on you the same way it’s staining his shirt now. 

Fear. He’s afraid. And not of death or capture. 

I mean, he very well might be terrified of those things, but whatever it is he’s feeling right now is far overshadowing that. His face is red, and you can practically see the veins in his neck popping in rhythm with his thrumming heartbeat. He’s sweating extensively, and while that’s not uncommon for him, there’s not that macabre jolly smile plastered across his face. He’s baring his teeth and snapping at you like a feral hound, swearing to end your miserable life in a manner that would make the ghosts of his past shudder in horror for you. 

You don’t put it past him to snap these ropes any second and wrap his hands so tightly around your neck that your eyes pop like overinflated balloons. Even if the cops show up and try to escort you to safety, there’s an unspoken darkness in his glare, something that promises pain in your future even if they manage to subdue him. A promise that you can’t guarantee yourself that he can’t keep.

It strikes you that you know nothing about this man.

Surely someone out there knows about this. Someone knows about him and his little hobby. Monsters run in packs and even if you can’t see them, you know they must be there. Best case scenario, they can’t have him spilling their secrets so they find a way to end his life before the police can. Worst case scenario?  Worst case, they come for you. 

You’ve seen enough Hollywood horror movies to know just how wrong it can go if justice is left to the authorities. You haven’t seen much of it, but this looks like a pretty nice house. If he has money, he can just buy his way out. Who is to say that he doesn’t already have a deal with the cops? Kidnapping people is risky business, especially when folks begin to notice that you’re gone. Surely he has some safety net? 

What if he’s part of a network of psychopaths? There’s been enough late-night conspiracy youtube binges in your existence to know that shit like that is perfectly plausible. What if he’s just one of many? What if they have the pull to see him set free even after you’ve gone through the proper avenues to get him locked away? What if, one night, when you think he’s rotting in a 6 x 6 cement cell miles away from you, you wake up back here in this basement with even more Strades with different names and faces but each one shares the desire to see you ripped apart at the seams and devoured?

No. HELL no. You’re not going to be the cliche victim. He can bark and screech at you until his throat is sore and his gums bleed, but the plain and simple fact of the matter is that you have this monster on a leash, and you’re not about to hand that leash over to someone else. 

How many people has he killed? How many have met their end in this godless basement? How many unsuspecting people has he dragged here only to take them apart piece by piece until their eyes glaze and their final breath moistens his cheek as he watches the light in their eyes extinguish? Do you even want to know? Would it make you feel better or worse to know that, at least for now, you’ve narrowly escaped such a fate? 

You have to know. 

His screaming turns fearful as you ascend the stairs. Again, not for fear of being caught, but because he already has been. It’s so odd to hear the phrase “Don’t leave me here!” from his quivering chest when he’s apparently in the place he values most, and there’s a sick sense of catharsis that settles in your gut as you listen to him begin to whimper and whine. You don’t let yourself dwell on it but you do slam the door behind you loudly enough that he will be forced to acknowledge that his pathetic pleas mean nothing to you. 

His house is painfully average, at least for someone like him. He’s even got portraits up with what must be friends or family or someone that cares enough to pose for a cheesy photo with him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say an upstanding, if a little tacky, upper-middle class man lives here. The furniture is unremarkable and well cared for but lived in enough to not raise suspicion. His kitchen is filled with expensive appliances that might as well be fresh out of the box. His fridge, as expected, is filled with beer and various quick meals. Not much of a cook, you guess.

The car sitting in the garage costs in the six digit range and looks like it’s the most beloved thing in the entire area. It reeks of Armor All and disinfectant, and you’re willing to bet that if he was so inclined, he could put it on a showroom floor right now. He’s got tools and cables of all sorts thrown about, but not the kind you’ve gotten so used to. Maybe he actually does use them for their intended purpose sometimes. 

As you walk the length of his home, you notice a distinct lack of screaming. You can’t hear anything, not even a peep from the basement, and you are very certain he’s crying up a storm down there. Interesting. He’s go this place sound proofed. You’re not sure what you’d expected, but it’s good information to have regardless. 

After you’ve sated your curiosity by observing the dragon’s den, you make your way to the upper level. He’s probably not foolish enough to leave any sort of evidence behind where friends and neighbors can see it, so whatever it is you’re looking for is going to be somewhere a little bit more personal. Perhaps like a bedroom? 

Bingo. 

His bedroom, much like the rest of his house, looks about what you’d expect. King sized bed, wooden dresser with a TV and player on top, and a desk beneath the window. Sliding closet doors with all manner of free range dad apparel inside, and honestly, it’s the closest you’ve been to laughing since you got here. He would wear cargo shorts and plaid, wouldn’t he? A scrounge through the drawers of his dresser and closet reveal nothing remarkable, but you’re willing to bet your injured thigh that there’s something special in the desk. 

Just like you’d expect, the desk is locked, but you’d noticed a pair of keys sitting willy-nilly out in the living room and you’d picked them up. About 7 key changes later and the desk pops open for you like a cheap whore. He really isn’t too bright, is he? Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting this to ever be a problem. Either way, you’re grateful he’s a moron. 

Inside the drawer seems to be loads of DVDs, unmarked except for dates. It feels like you’re the unprepared cop in a serial killer movie as you look down at them. You don’t need to watch them to know what they are, but you’re going to anyway. You have to know. You need to know just who you’re dealing with here. 

You pick one at random and pop it into the DVD player and the scene that greets you seems all too familiar. A hunched figure, bloodied and tied to the pole you’d become so intimate with over the last week. This person was in much worse shape than you, however. You could see shadows moving off screen and the camera fuzzes and refocuses repeatedly as what you assume is Strade messes with the controls. Not long after, he emerges, practically skipping into frame. Even though most of his face is concealed behind a hideous bandana, you can tell he’s smiling. It reaches his eyes. 

He says what appears to be a rehearsed greeting and you’re left wondering just how crazy is he? Is he talking to his future self? You can see him making these videos to relive his sick, sadistic fantasies but talking to himself like an absolute lunatic is just a little disconcerting. However, you also acknowledge that the only reason you’ve even thinking about this is to distract yourself from the fact that you’re watching a homemade snuff film that you almost starred in yourself. 

And then he begins. 

Despite the visceral horror on display before you, the urge to vomit never comes. You watch, blank faced, as this poor soul is faced with every horror a human mind can conceive. It goes on for long. Too long. And Strade never stops talking. 

The realization sets in that’s because he’s not the only one watching. 

He’s not talking to himself. He’s responding. This wasn’t for him. This was for them. 

If you had any emotional energy to give, surely you’d be absolutely horrified, but you don’t and you can’t. You’re not even surprised. Someone like Strade, that bubbly personality and 1,000 watt smile, of course he’d find a way to utilize his talents. He’d found a market. He had a hobby and he made money from it. ‘Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ and you are just so willing to bet he loves his fucking job. 

You let the video keep playing as you sit up from his bed and leave the room. You make your way down the stairs, back to the living room, and then back to the basement door. You open it and immediately are bombarded with the sounds of his screaming and hateful vitriol. It doesn’t phase you. You’re not sure anything will ever again. 

Calmly, you walk into the room and stare at him. He doesn’t cease his incessant threats until he realizes you’re waiting for him to finish so that you can speak. He finally silences himself, though he continues to rip and tear at the ropes holding him hostage as you tell him you found his little home video collection. 

“Let me out.” He demands, and you realize he doesn’t quite understand that he’s not the one in control anymore. Of course a dog without a tangible leash will continue to run wild. You needed to drive the point home. 

You turn your back to him and begin to ruffle through his various cabinets, searching around the nooks and crannies for something that will help him understand just what position he’s found himself in. You make a very interesting discovery next to his med kit. A collar. A literal collar. 

Poetic justice. 

It’s thick and burdensome and more than a little hideous. It’s definitely homemade, because not even the most fucked of BDSM sites are going to offer something like this. It’s accompanied by a small remote with a large red button and not much else. You push the button and yelp in pain, the collar clattering to the floor as it slips from your fingers. It shocked you. It was so very painful, but you’re smiling. 

You retrieve it from where it fell and pop it open, observing it curiously. Strade watches you through wide eyes and sniveling, trembling lips. The look on his face is a dead giveaway that you’ve found something you really shouldn’t have. The toothy grin you flash him shows him that you understand that. 

Without a word, you approach him, holding the open collar in your sweating palm. His struggles begin anew and before long he’s practically yanking his arms out at the sockets trying to get away from you and your newfound toy. He’s throwing his weight around and doing whatever he can with his limited movements to make damn sure you can’t get that terrible thing around his neck, but it’s all in vain because energy is finite and he’s been expending a lot of it over the last hour. 

He’s breathing heavy and you could swear he’s begging between heaves as you clap the collar around his thick neck. His flesh bulges from the side and you’re fairly certain it was made for someone much less burly than himself in mind. You get the odd urge to adjust it on him like a necklace but he’s still dangerous, even caged. You feel weirdly... proud.

“Stop-! you don’t know what you’re doing!” He hiccups, and as he pulls his head upward, you can see he is indeed crying. “Please! Don’t!” 

You’ve never thought of yourself as particularly sadistic, at least in that sense, but some ghostly force pushes your thumb down on that big red button. Watching his eyes go wide and his body convulse and seize fills you with a sense of sheer euphoria that can’t properly be conveyed. The utterly satisfying clang of his head hitting the pole at mach 5 as he shakes and bumbles almost humorously while the collar sends x amount of volts through his body makes you giggle. 

When you finally pull your thumb off the button, he’s still shaking from the residual shock, drool and mucus bubbling from his mouth and nose and sloping down onto his chin. He looks defeated; utterly pathetic. Is this how you looked to him all those times he stood over you grinning as he gifted you pain the likes of which had been unthinkable to you before you met him? The desire to push down again is overwhelming but you’re determined for him to understand there’s a point to this misery. 

There’s a thousand thoughts going through your mind right now faster than you can comprehend them all, but they all have the same general principal. This man is a murderer. This man is a rapist. This man is contained. This man is afraid. This man is at your mercy. 

And unfortunately for him, you just ran out. 

‘How many’ you ask, despite already knowing. If the videos upstairs are any indication, there’s more than he can probably count. More names and faces than he can practically remember and they’re dead because of him. He looks up at you through wet lashes with a trembling lip, already caught on to the fact that there is no correct answer. Your thumb hovers over that seductive red button and he’s quick to spit out whatever he can regardless. 

“I don’t know! I don’t!” 

You don’t doubt that he’s being honest, but it sickens you none he less. You press that button for half a second and he jolts up off the floor as much as his restraints will allow. When he comes to, his eyes can barely focus in on you and when his slumps over, you can see the burns from the collar already settling in on his tan skin. You’re not sure how to turn down the voltage or how lethal it is, but you don’t really care at the moment. If he dies, he dies. You’ll deal with the complications of that later. 

You could sit here all day and grill him, literally and figuratively, about his track record of atrocities, but it won’t bring you any peace. You’re not sure that peace is something that you’ll ever feel again, all things considered. Meeting the monsters that dwell in the dark is drastically different than simply acknowledging that they exist, and through some twist of fate, you’ve been given the opportunity to show this particular monster that he’s no longer at the top of the food chain. There’s so much you could do, so many things you want to do, and it’s at that moment you realize you’ve spent too long staring into the abyss to try and claw your way out. 

You’re being offered the chance they never were. You’re holding the controls now. He’s already crying and you’ve barely touched him, barely done anything besides shock him a little. You remember that feeling well. If you recall, you were already crying before he put that knife to your thigh on your first day with him. 

Truth is, you decided the second he fell unconscious what you were going to do. 

Maybe a revenge like this isn’t yours to take, but you’re taking it regardless. For yourself, and for every sorry sap that’s met their end in his cement hellhole. They died for you to have this opportunity, and you’d like to think that maybe they’re there with you in this moment. Even if you never knew them, you feel a strange kinship with them. After all, it was almost you. 

He continues to babble underneath his breath, various pleas for mercy or sympathy or any form of compassion you can muster from your still aching body, and though you desperately wish you did, you can’t find any. You’re certain when you look in the mirror next, it won’t be your own eyes looking back at you anymore, but something closer to his. Maybe you did die in this basement, because whoever you were before you met him is long gone and has been replaced with something so much more empty. 

You explain to him, as gently as you can, that it’s your turn now, and his resistance will only make this harder. You don’t delight in seeing him in pain (whether or not that’s a lie has yet to be determined) but it’s a necessary evil for all he’s done. You don’t believe his life is yours to take, but you’d be as terrible as him if you let him loose on the world again. You can’t trust anyone but yourself, and since this situation is so delicate, you need a bit more time to think on it. 

He doesn’t seem to understand, at least until you’re binding his legs and securing his head snuggly to the pole. Maybe it’s overkill considering the man looks like he belongs in a shibari magazine right now, but there’s no precautions you can’t take. You can’t have him escaping. It’s far too soon, and you have such wonderful things planned. 

Were you a kinder soul, maybe you would put him to sleep because it’s so apparent he’s terrified. Being bound like this has really brought out his inner little bitch, and the way he’s looking, he’s going to piss himself. But its a price it’s only fair that he pay, all things considered. You don’t know what time it is or even where you are, but you know you’ll return to him when you’ve been rejuvenated, eager and ready to begin on him. You’re only a few steps toward the door when he begins shouting, words barely discernible between his emphatic weeping and sobbing hiccups. 

“D-don’t leave me here in the dark! Let me go, let me out! You can’t! You can’t leave me here like this!”  You grin softly, turning slowly to face him, and tell him that you can and you will. You ask what he’s so afraid of, but you don’t wait to hear the answer as you step through the frame and shut the door behind you, leaving him to rot in his personal dungeon. It’s only been an hour and he’s already so pliable. You wonder what you can make him do when you really make it hurt. Psychology says it takes 7 years to brainwash someone and coerce them into absolute compliance, but you’re willing to bet you can have it done in a few months. 

You already know one of his fears, and are very clearly not ashamed to exploit it. How many else does he have, you might wonder, already planning tomorrow’s festivities. Maybe you were sicker in the head than you thought. Maybe Strade just brought out the worst in you, stripped away all that made you human and left you with raw hurt and despair. 

It’s tempting. To give in. To sit and massage your aching body while listening to his screams as they echo through the soundproofed basement. But you’re tired, and you haven’t slept in a bed in over a week. His looked awfully nice. Maybe after that, you’d wash the dried blood from your battered body, order some food, and appreciate the niceties that civilized life had to offer. Niceties you took for granted. 

After that?  Well, after that you had a new pet to train. 

[nitannichionne]

Leading Lady, Chapter 4: Check and Mate (A Henry Cavill Cast Fic)

Chapter 4; Check and Mate (Shane/Henry Cavill POV)

This was almost fun.

I landed in Chicago a full two days before I was to meet Laura, a full day before Rick was supposed to follow. I didn't want him with me. This part seemed very personal.

Kendra Kincaid was closely connected to Kitara Kingston, I managed to find that out, but not much more. That wasn't very hard to find, except that Kendra Kincaid was connected to a Kianna, an erotica writer who was popular for a spell quite a few years ago. After reading that stuff, I was blown away a bit. She sounded...really experienced, sharpening my curiosity. She sounded worldly, she seemed terribly confident yet vulnerable. In all our texts she had an answer or a question that led to an answer. I was reading and rereading our texts, our emails, everything. I was confident; I had so many signs to look for now. After the eight hour flight I began to believe that Kendra, Kitara and Kianna may be one and the same.

I rested up, got my hours right and basically strode into Laura Davidson's office unannounced. I found the young woman whom I saw with her in Britain sitting at the desk, rifling through the drawers. She was still working for her,I assumed. I looked her over, smiling at the fact she was still wearing those athletic form fitting pants that showed the outline of a cell phone in her cargo pocket but she had waistcoat that showed off her hips and bum with a shell underneath that accentuated her form. Her hair was longer, I remembered shoulder length hair-or extensions. Now she had a long pixie cut that framed a cute face. I saw more this time, or maybe it was that Laura was my focus then. "Excuse me."

She looked up, did a double take, gasped and stared. "May I... help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if Laura Davidson was in?"

"Uh, yes, she is, but..." she looked around and picked up a calendar. She looked through it. "Do you have an appointment today?" She turned in her seat, and in so doing, knocked over a pencil cup and picture frame. "Oh, sorry!"

"No worries," I smiled. "Regrettably, no, I am set for tomorrow." She was a nervous thing, more than I remembered.

"Oh, I was afraid I'd made some mistake!" she laughed softly, averting my gaze. "And you are...?"

"Zachary Sheridan?"

She gasped. "I knew you looked familiar!" She looked about, seeming out of sorts. "One moment." She rose and went into the office with her notebook...without knocking?

As soon as the door clicked closed, I examined the desk. There was a comm system on it. She could have called in. I could hear hushed voices behind the door. I couldn't understand anything but the tones were anxious and clipped and almost argumentative. I quietly opened the bottom drawer with my foot. Empty. No purse? Most women carry a bag of some sort of bag  to work with all their needs for the day. She didn't have one. I picked up the frame and saw a picture of a blonde haired woman and two young children. I set it back in its place, face down. That is not who greeted me, making me wonder who this woman was. Was she part of a lesbian couple? No, not the way she looked at me...unless this wasn't her desk at all. Most people reflexively right a fallen frame, unless one is trying to hide something...?

The assistant opened the door. "She'll see you now," She held the door for me. As soon as I walked through I sensed her gaze follow, but when I looked she was looking at Laura. Laura nodded before she left. What the...?

"Laura!" I smiled, extending my hand. "Recently arrived, wanted to say hi, sorry for my--"

"No problem," she nodded. "Seems you came at the perfect time." She gestured for me to take a seat. "How was your flight?"

"Oh, fine, fine," I nodded, not losing eye contact with her. She looked uneasy. "but Kendra isn't here so I wouldn't say that the timing was perfect." I sat down. She chuckled a bit nervously, and I laughed politely. "Will she--"

"Something to drink, Mr. Sheridan?" the assistant offered, smiling as she handed me my favorite brand of water.

Hold on. Did they know I was coming? "Thank you." I looked at these two. Something was up. I listened to Laura go on about how happy she is to see me again, how excited she was that I was interested in playing roles...she was stalling, but for what?

And the assistant hadn't moved. Where was the notebook in her hand that she had?

My eyes traveled to Laura's desk. The notebook was there. It had tabs on the sides made of post-its. Kendra had described that to me in texts. It was how she kept her notes for different projects, dividing the notebook into a story journal herself. I frowned, looking at the cell phone in her pocket. She believed in being as hands free as possible. I read that in a text from her! I had seen that makeshift journal someplace else!

Britain.

That was her. That was...her!  I watched her. She folded her hands behind her back military style. That was when I noticed the scar the pixie cut covered. I looked at her face and she averted her gaze. The cut was specifically to cover it. There's a story there...

"I know you wanted to meet her--" Laura glanced at her so-called assistant. "But she is off doing research for another book. You know how that is sometimes."

"Quite." I wanted to call her on that lie, but I needed more proof. On every card she ever sent, she crossed her Z's. No one does that. It was a mix of penmanship and calligraphy, and terribly distinct.

"But I want you to know she has great faith in your ability--"

"Very believable--" the assistant offered. I looked at her-that turn of phrase was unique. She swallowed hard. "She said that, I remember."

"Would you have your assistant send flowers for me?" I asked, not losing eye contact with her.

"What?"

"I wanted to send flowers to an old friend, let her know I'm in town?" I asked. I watched Laura look at now who I suspected was Kitara Kingston. She had flinched, gone still.

"Sure!" she said too brightly. "Name?"

"Would you write the message?" I asked. "It's important."

"Sure," she said. Laura handed her the notebook and she flipped to the last page. "Yes?"

I stood up, and she backed a step. I'm almost two meters and she was less than half a meter shorter. Her eyes went wide for a second as our gazes locked. I'd bet my horse now. I stepped slightly behind her as if to watch her work. Kendra texted that the alcohol in fragrances affected her sinuses and gave her headaches, so she wore scented oils instead. "It's to Samantha Zane." I took a slow inhale...oils, check...

"Samantha..." She wrote. The S was right. "Z-a-"

YES! Perfect match! "N-e." I took a deep breath, inhaling the scented oils on her skin, then blew slightly in the direction of her ear and neck. Kendra once told me that a man lightly breathing in her ear could drive her mad.

"Message?" Her voice was a squeak.

I smiled. I've got you, darling. "Dear Sam, thanks so much for offering to find Kendra Knight for me."

She stopped writing for a second and then slowly resumed. "Anything else?"

"But it seems I am fully capable of finding her myself."

The whole room went silent, so silent that all we could hear was a small desk fountain doing its job on a small table in the corner.

"Found her?" Laura's eyes were wide.

"Why yes, so how about we let the actor and writer have a chat?" I asked. From behind, I took the notebook and pen from "the assistant's" hands and dropped them on my seat, effectively blocking her from any escape. "You agents can meet with us tomorrow."

"The assistant" had nothing to say as I took her by the hand turned her to me for a better look. Her dark eyes looked huge, reminding me of a startled doe, and she looked like she was holding her breath. Too late, I wanted to tell her. She turned away. I knew she was trying to compose herself.

"Kendra? Kianna?" I whispered in her ear and turned her to me again. "Or should I say Kitara?"

UH-OH! Reblogs, likes and comments totally appreciated! Thanks!

@mistress-of-ward​ @summersong69​ @griscka75​ @kebabgirl67​

[wolf-555-writer]

Heating Up Part 3

Still owed you guys this one. Sorry it took, like, a little while. Hope you enjoy though! :) 

Read part 1; part 2

Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost x Meta Reader

Summary: Reader gets captured. Will you be able to survive and free yourself? While also searching for the others and trying to escape?

Word Count: 2,717

It's cold all around. Curled up, eyes pinched shut and arms covering your head defensively. You prepare yourself for impact. The impact of sharp, icy air, so cold it instantly freezes everything it touches. Generated by one Killer Frost. Normally, it wouldn't be such a problem. But you're not able to control your 'heat’ powers right now. Is it due to all the adrenaline making you shaky? Or because you're frightened as hell? Or because you let your guard down around KF, thinking you noticed something blossoming between you two?

You don't know. It doesn't matter what the exact reason is anyway, considering in a couple of seconds it will all be over...

Yet... Nothing happens. Did she miss?

“What the hell are you doing?! Let's go!”, you perceive, slowly opening your eyelids and removing your arms away from your face. Frost has grabbed you and pulls you with her. Still able to peak over your shoulder, you notice a guy knocked out cold on the dirty ground. A nasty scar on his face and one fake eye. So, she didn't aim at you but at that guy? 

“Wait- What just happened?! Who was that?”, you exclaim in total confusion as KF drags you with her, sensing her cold hand on your arm through your jacket. I’ve never been so unfocused before. You didn't even hear the guy approaching, having absolutely no clue what just went down. 

Moving towards a better lit hallway, Frost starts to explain that they (Caitlin and herself) started to work for someone real shady after leaving Central City. “It got out of hand and Caitlin reached out to ask for help. I told her I could handle it on my own, but Caitlin wouldn’t listen. And now look where it got us…”. She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Barry and Cisco both captured by our employer. Idiots”. You look at her hand and back to her. “Um… Frost, you're still, like, holding me”.

She scoffs, “I know that!”, and quickly lets go. She continues: “First we have to free Barry and Cisco. Unfortunately. Got it?”

“Yes, loud and clear”. This is not the Killer Frost you briefly met in the cold, misty woods months ago. The Killer Frost that had attacked her ‘friends’ with real rage and aggression. Angry at them and angry at the entire world around her.

She has changed.  

“And what was that thing Caitlin wanted to ask me?”, you remember, returning to the unanswered question from before the sudden ice blast. Maybe there’s a reason Caitlin didn’t ask for my help earlier at STAR Labs. Clearly made visible by the event that had just happened. You’d only be a burden. Besides, why would she choose you over The Flash anyway?

“Oh, that. She first wanted to ask for your help only. But Caity was embarrassed about the shit mess we got ourselves into”. These words make you feel happy but also slightly disappointed. She obviously could have asked you. Out of everybody, you were the last person to judge her.

“You should know, she kind of likes y-”, Frost interrupts herself. “Shhh, quiet”, she snaps at you. But… you weren't even talking? 

Both hide behind a large crate now that two suspicious men are approaching. “Can you use your powers?”, KF whispers at you, observing the guys. “No, not from this distance. But I can still fight them you know”. “I bet you can”, she answers while scanning your figure briefly.

Having decided each would take out one, Frost dives from behind the crates and attacks. You do the same and swiftly jump on the other. Creating enough momentum, you throw him over your shoulder and finish up with a high-speed elbow in his face, sending him to sleep for a nice couple of hours. Standing up again, you see KF nod at you with a grin on her face. “Impressive, (Y/N)”

Other thugs follow from the middle entrance. But this time with guns. Killer Frost pushes you away in time, both her hands placed on your chest firmly. The bullets are fired at the spot you were standing seconds when Frost harshly pins you to the wall. Her cold body is pressed against your warm one due the force she used. Warmer than usual… You heat up as her blue lips are close to your red ones. Noticing a teasing look starting to appear on KF's face when she bites her lip. Both staring into each other's eyes and Frost slowly leans in. Then you snap out of it. She has already pulled back and is currently attacking the men with weapons that are not freeze-proof, just as the men. Lucky for Killer Frost.

She knocks them out with a powerful cold blast. Too easy. And finishes by sending a daring wink your way. Impressed by the work she just delivered, Frost gives herself an imaginary pat on the back while eyeing that cute firefighter who’s with her. Who’s actually looking back at her with a rather strange expression...

“Watch out!”, you yell, sprinting towards a distracted Killer Frost, “Behind you!”. But you’re too late. Someone ambushed her. KF is now on the ground and you throw yourself in front of the guy. Anger fueling your body, you knock him out with a combo of three powerful punches and his body hits the ground with a dull thud. 

Rushing towards Frost and you take her in your arms. Her hair slowly turns into hazel brown, lips from blue to red, yet her eyes remain closed. She’s turning back into Caitlin. Set in motion by you. 

“No… Not now…”, you grunt. Your powers are unwillingly emerging again. Great timing. 

Suddenly an electrifying pain shoots through your body, originating from the back of your head. You instantly lose consciousness and black out, still holding Caitlin tight.

///

Waking up with a pounding in your head as if a hammer is hitting the inside of your skull. You cautiously open your eyes and vaguely see the silhouette of a woman. Caitlin. Her beautiful brown eyes staring at you... with a pretty concerned look. Why?

“Can you sit upright?”, she asks with an anxious voice. Carefully doing what Caitlin says, you notice that she’s wearing power dampening cuffs. Yet, you are not. They don't know your powers? Gotta admit you're not as obvious as Barry or Cisco. Perks of not having a superhero-suit, you guess. Your hands are tied though. Turning your head around to take in the surroundings that is an old, dark holding-cell. A hundred percent certain you’re still in the same building as earlier, because the smell is definitely the same.

“How are you feeling?”, Caitlin continues, now next to you with one hand on your shoulder. “I-I don’t know, maybe... a little light-headed?”. Wait- you remember. You got struck from behind with an awfully hard object. Probably got a head wound or something, hence the killer headache. You try to reach the back of your head with bound hands to inspect the injury. Man… your head is really pounding like crazy. Not surprised when you view your hands only to discover they’ve turned red. Blood.

Great. This really is the last thing you need above all the other mistakes of today...

Sensing you’re slipping away, you hear Caitlin again. “(Y/N)! Stay awake, we have to get out of here!”, she says, slightly panicking. 

“I-I… yeah, well, what do you want me to do?”, you return a bit slurring, staring into Caitlins worrisome eyes.

“Come on, let me help you up”. Weakly, you put your tied arms around Caitlin so she can support you. Both hobble toward the metal bars that confine you from leaving.

“I was thinking, maybe you could heat up the metal, so that it becomes deformable?”, she suggests with a thoughtful, calm tone.

“I-I can try”. You hesitate. Are you able to use your powers? Especially now that you’re wounded? It’s already hard to fully concentrate on a task, let alone melting a rigid material like metal. You slowly grab the bars, clenching them tight, trying to focus. Eyes closed, you can feel the iron in the palms of your hands. Heat up. 

Just heat up!

Nothing happens. The metal remains cold and inflexible. Not even remotely able to bend it in the current state. It’s not working. You open your eyes and turn to Caitlin. “It- it’s… nothing…”, stuttering as you lose all hope. You already messed everything else up today, so why did you expect this would even work? It’s useless. You’re useless. Now I understand why Caitlin didn’t ask for my help…

“No, don’t give up”. A warm hand is placed on your shoulder, squeezing you lightly. “You can do this (Y/N). I know you can”, words spoken with the most tender voice you’ve ever heard. “I believe in you”, Caitlin eases, “I trust you”. You nod slightly, feeling every word she just said when an intense warmth ripples through your body. You close your eyes once again. Inhaling deeply and focusing on the rusted metal in front of you. Exhale. Concentrating on the infinitely many iron molecules packed inside the rods. Inhale again. Blocking everything else around. And exhale. You sense the structure changing. Slowly. Softening. Shifting. And moving.  

The metal is heating up, finally, and bent into a shape just wide enough for a person to fit through. But it cost a lot of effort, considering you're badly wounded. You almost fainted, but Caitlin managed to catch you before you dropped down. Quickly escaping, you don’t even notice you’re moving and start to slip away again. Feeling a wave of nauseousness hitting you, probably also having a concussion caused by the forceful blow on your head. But you have to keep holding on, as Caitlin keeps repeating.

With blurry sight you make out a person in the distance who’s wearing a bright red suit. And wearing power dampening cuffs. It’s Barry, with next to him Cisco, also cuffed. 

“Caitlin!”, you hear them shout in unison, now feeling loss of contact with the woman supporting you. Carefully placing you in front of the cell where Barry and Cisco are held captive, she kneels down in front of you. You sense her soft hand touching your cheek.

“Try to keep your eyes open for me”, she whispers at you, “okay?”. Skin feeling cold again now that she let go. In fact, your whole body starts to feel cold. You hear Cisco instructing Caitlin to grab something, but his exact words remain a mystery to you. Maybe he knows how to take off the high-tech cuffs. Or at least you’re hoping he knows how to unlock those, because you’re in no state of freeing them too, which leaves the team trapped inside this building still. Or worse... 

“We have to get out of here! Stay with me (Y/N)”. You faintly perceive Caitlin’s words, along with the sound of several heavy footsteps approaching. But you’re slipping away again and your eyelids become heavy. Maybe... just close my eyes for a few secon-

Losing consciousness, you’re not able to hear the angry cursing and shouting along with the distressed voices of your friends anymore.

///

A headache. The worst you have ever had. Ugh, my head feels as if it's been used as a basketball... Hold on, you have to wake up. Now. You’re still in danger, as are Barry, Cisco and Caitlin. You open your eyes but shut them again, caused by the way too intense light inside… Wait-

STAR Labs?

Opening your eyes with more caution now, you catch the silhouette of Caitlin, back turned towards you, busy with some medical equipment on a steel table placed against the wall. You want to sit upright, yet all that happens is an agonizing groan escaping your mouth.

“Easy, easy”. Alerted by the discomforting sound behind her, Caitlin promptly moves to the bedside to stop you. “You have a bad concussion”. You anxiously reach for your head and feel it's bandaged up. “Relax, (Y/N). We’re safe now, alright?”, Caitlin eases. As a reaction to your disoriented state, she takes your hands in a soft grip to put them down again. “And I also took care of the wound on the back of your head. You’re gonna be fine”

“Thanks”, you say with a husky voice. Suddenly feeling guilty about passing out before the danger had passed. Before everyone was safe. Much help you provided there.

“No, thank you. You saved us”. She smiles sheepishly and glances at the floor. “You saved me. Again”

“No problem, really”, you answer right away and lock eyes with her, “I said I would always be there to help if you needed any. And I meant it”. Her smile turns into a brighter one, making her brown eyes glint in the still too intense light.

“Um, Caitlin…”, you motion with your eyes down, “you’re still, like, holding my hand”. She blushes a little and replies, “I know”. 

By now the others of team Flash have noticed you’re awake and quickly join around the bed. Iris asks how you’re feeling, glad that she called you in to help, but was also concerned when she saw your gaping head-wound when The Flash carried you into The Cortex. Cisco thanks you, and is already discussing potential suit designs with functions you probably won’t be needing. Barry just gives a curt nod, probably pissed he got captured in the first place. Then they all turn to Caitlin because Cisco has asked the question of which they’re all dying to know the answer to. Has she decided what to do now?

“Well…”, Caitlin begins with a thoughtful look, “I think I’ll stay for now. I’ve missed you guys. Missed my family”, she says while looking at the team. But does that include you? Where do I fit in?

As if Iris can read thoughts, she suddenly interrupts. “I think (Y/N) needs some rest first”, she says with raised eyebrows aimed at you. Is there some secret communication going on you’re unaware of? “So we’ll leave you to it, right guys”, Iris continues and takes Cisco and Barry with her, basically dragging the naive boys far enough away. 

Caitlin is the last to leave. She stands up and wants to let go of your hand which she was still holding. Yet, you don’t let her. “Wait, Caitlin-”

“Yes?”, she returns expectantly. Perhaps you did pick up on what Iris was trying to tell you after all.  

“Is Team Flash the only reason you decided to stay?”, you ask carefully. She stares at you for a second and answers, “Well, yes”.

“Oh...”, you mutter and avert your gaze to the floor, more than disappointed. 

However, Caitlin wasn’t done and speaks again, “Because apparently there’s this new member on the team”. You glance back at her.

“Maybe I’d like to get to know this person better”, she suggests. Is that so, you think, staying quiet and patiently waiting for the rest. “A firefighter, with heating powers”.

“Sounds like a good match”, you say with a suggestive tone, “Heat and Cold. Completing one another”.

Before you know it you’ve asked the question that has been occupying your mind for a while now, under the heavy frustration of Iris.

“You wanna grab a coffee at Jitters sometime?”. “Sounds like a date”, she answers with a soft smile, “But first you need to rest”.

Imitating a voice as if following an order, you say, “Yes, I shall rest, Dr. Snow”, when she places a soft kiss on the back of your hand before slowly letting go. Her warm touch imprinted on your skin, you watch her leave until she is out of sight.

Now all alone, you suddenly feel yourself heating up. You close your eyes and immediately fall asleep because you’re so exhausted by everything that has happened today. A warmth ripples through your body, exhausted, yes, but also happy. Drifting away in a peaceful, dreamy sleep...

The smell of fresh coffee beans and the sound of soft chatter from people enjoying a cup or two fills the cozy place. Waiting for a special someone, you’re seated on a couch way too large for one person and gaze at the entrance when the door swings open...

[big1ron]

The Venator “Resolute” had jumped right into a separatist trap. Somehow a virus infecting the main computer has scrambled the hyperspace jump coordinates, and now the companies on board were outnumbered and without reinforcements, deep in separatist space. A few last, desperate SOSs to nobody, and the ship was quickly overwhelmed with fire. The Resolute was going down. But not before each of the escape pods could be jettisoned.

————- Chapter One: Podrace. -————

The planet was thick in foliage and deep with caves. The contrast of the yellow pods on the blue stalks of many of the plants would have been beautiful, if they had time to admire it. The planet was currently in its night cycle. And the two Jedi’s escape pod had landed atop a rather high peninsula. Anakin climbed out of the smoking pod and coughed as he waved the smoke out of his face. He surveyed the ground far below him.

“I don’t see any enemy encampments, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. It’s impossible to see anything with all these crazy cliffs and caves. They’ll no doubt be sending hunter squads down shortly. How are the comms snips?”

“Fried master. The beacon too. Must have been destroyed in the landing.” Ahsoka climbs out after him, and steps up beside him, looking over the landscape below.

“Alright then let’s try to find another pod. Maybe a separatist base or some kind of settlement. We need to get off this rock.”

The escape pod crashed into the planet. Hard. All three passengers were thrown around pretty badly and Rex knew that would leave a mark. The impact had destroyed most of their equipment, and he had hit his shoulder against the wall of the pod. He knew it would bruise but it didn’t feel broken. He opened his eyes which he had squeezed shut on impact. He stirred to get up, and assess the other two men. One of the two, Echo, was doing the same. But the other, Kix, wasn’t moving. Rex gestured for echo to open the hatch while he climbed over to Kix and took his pulse, relieved he was alive before gently trying to shake him awake.

“Hey Kix, can you hear me? I need you in the here and now trooper.”

Kix groaned in response, pulling himself upright and rubbing his temples “wha’ ya need cap’n?”

He must have hit his head pretty badly, but he was awake, and that was a good sign. Rex hands Kix his bucket and turns for the hatch. Echo had already gotten it open and had been surveying their landing site. But before he could get outside the pod he hears Kix falling down behind him. He turns quickly to see Kix pulling himself to his feet again. That hit he took combined with the uneven floor of the pod made it hard for the medic to keep his balance. Rex took pity on him, and let Kix lean on him for support as Rex put an arm around his waist and practically dragged him out of the pod.

“This is u’necessary sir, ’m fine.”

“Define ‘fine.’ How badly did you hit your head?”

“Good.”

So, pretty bad rex guessed. The situation outside wasn’t looking too much better, as the pod had crashed though the ceiling of some kind of cave system upon landing. And it was rather dark in the caves with only the (admittedly pretty bright) moonlight from their entry hole, so rex switched is visor to night vision. Echo had already done the same.

“Two tunnels to the east, left one angled up, right angled down, and one tunnel to the north. Headed down. No sign of any hostiles.” Echo reported. “How’s Kix?”

“I’m fine.” With that Kix tried to stand up a little straighter, and away from rex to prove his point. But rex only pulled him closer, as if he was afraid he was going to fall again.

“He’s not fine. It looks pretty bad. But I’m no medic, and I don’t trust ours to give a proper diagnosis. Looks like we’re pretty close to the surface. So let’s try southeast.”

Echo took the lead, pistols in hand. But it soon became clear they were alone for now

“Hey Rex, do you think maybe you’re being a little overprotective again?” Echo asks as Kix trips, almost falling but held up by the captain.

“I think that’s proof enough that I’m not.” But as the ground levelled put slightly Rex hesitantly removed his supporting arm from kix. Which proved a mistake as echo, immediately overcome with the urge to pester, gave kix a light shove which sent him diving directly to the ground.

Fives stepped out of the escape pod, followed by Hardcase and Tup. Their pod had landed deep in the forest valley. Layers of escarpments and cliffs towered around them.

“The comms were sabotaged. Can’t get a message out.” Says tup, the last one out of the pod.

“We’ll just go find Rex. He has to be around here somewhere right? He’ll know what to do.” Says fives, who really has no idea what to do but has immediately assumed charge anyways.

“We don’t even know if Rex is out there. What we need to do is find some sort of communication, get a signal out. This is a separatist controlled planet right? So we find and take a base. We’ve still got guns, and they probably have communications devices”

“With just the three of us? Forget it. This is hopeless. I bet the others have already been shot down... I wouldn’t count on getting off this rock.” Hardcase falls silent at tups remark. He’s right, they are deep in separatist space with no ship, few rations and no communications. They’re probably going to be permanent residents. If they don’t run into and hunter droids of course.

But fives immediately contradicts. That’s no way for a republic soldier to think. “We have to at least try something. We can’t just give up. Let’s see if we can climb up to.... that ridge, and see what we can from that vantage point.” Fives points to one of the higher cliffs facing them, as they have no heading and he’s got to start somewhere.

“I don’t know, might be a better idea to stay put and wait for the hunter droids to find us. They might have salvageable communications devices”

“Really hardcase? I thought you were all about doing and hyperactivity” fives waves his blaster towards the cliff “you really just want to stay put? Wait for us to just die like tup does?”

“Hey! that’s not what I-“ Tup starts

“No, I don’t! But what I do want is for us to get off this rock and I think that’s our best option!”

“You know you wouldn’t be able to sit still that long so let’s start making time before we waste it. Move it troopers, let’s go.”

Ahsoka poked at the ground with a stick. They had traveled a fair ways away from the pod by now, and had stopped along a ridge. Her master was sitting cross legged and mediating. Actually meditating! That’s how you knew he had no clue. Anakin skywalker never meditated.

“You know it would probably help if you tried too” anakin opened one eye to look at the padawan. He had never been good at reading the living force, but even mediocre skill combined with his absolutely massive force signature had to account for something, right?

“What are you even trying to do anyways?”

“I don’t know, sense If there are any clones or droids around maybe? It’s not working anyways.” He sighs and gets up, turning in a seemingly random direction and stars walking. They need to find some sort of communications if they want to-

“Wait, master” ahsoka ignites both her lightsabers and anakin does the same

“I sense it too.”

Suddenly the engines of two speeder bikes are heard, and headlights wash over them in the dark, as two mounted commando droids rush towards them. The droids open fire and-“Ahsoka wait!”

Too late. She had already deflected the bolts into the engine of one of the bikes, causing it to explode. Her master skillfully decapitated the other droid and used the force to slow the bike to a stop.

“You could have used that bike. Now you’re riding pillion.” He mounts the bike and pats the space behind him. “But at least you won’t crash this way”

“Hey I never crash!” Complains ahsoka as she climbs on behind him. “Besides, you don’t get to complain about my driving when you’ve crashed every ship you’ve ever flown”

The last pod had landed in a slightly more flat area, nearby a crude and thin path, that the group was now following deeper into the thick forest. The group was occupied by Jesse, who had elected himself leader and nobody had objected, Coric, and Dogma. They had been walking a while and everyone had been pretty quiet. Especially since tensions between Jesse and Dogma was still... weird.

“So are you two just going to give each other the silent treatment for however long we’re stuck here?” Asks coric, fed up with the silence

“No.” “Yes.” They answer at the same time, in the same tone.

“Alright Jesse, why do you refuse to talk to Dogma?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you. And you already know anyways. Nows not the time for this. Keep your focus on the road.”

“You know you can’t stay mad at him forever. We could be more effective if we work together”

“Actually, I can. Look I’ll talk to him when I need to, ok?”

‘I’m standing right here you know’ Dogma almost says. Instead he just goes with “I have no objections.” To remind them he is, in fact there.

“Of course you don’t.” Jesse grumbles “cause I have orders for you and you can’t function without those, can you.” Dogma looks to his feet and coric looks defeated. It’s true, having clear orders from Jesse is the only thing keeping him from low key panicking.

Suddenly four pairs of glowing eyes flick on in front of them, where four hunter commando droids had been lying in wait.

[lynne-monstr]

Writers Month Day 21: Family (tka, yuhuang)

follow up to Part 1 and Part 2. (de-aged training camp yu wenzhou in the present day)

Part 3.  yu wenzhou meets blue rain.

.

Yu Wenzhou isn’t sure what to expect when he agrees to accompany Huang Shaotian to meet the team. He’d prefer to avoid it altogether if he could. Meeting groups of new people makes him nervous when he hasn’t had a chance to read up on them beforehand. 

In the end, the memory of them piling into the infirmary, noisy and boisterous in their concern for him, makes the decision for him.

Somehow, Huang Shaotian seems to know, and talks nonstop about the team all the way to the training room. “...there’s Song Xiao, he’s great, too! A little inconsistent, okay a lot inconsistent, but he always comes through in the playoffs. You can count on him.”

They’ve gone through nearly the entire team. Except for one. 

“You still haven’t explained why there was a child in that infirmary room with me. Are we recruiting children, now?”

“You mean Little Lu?”

“Is that his name?”

There’s an extra spring in Huang Shaotian’s step as he explains. “Yeah, yeah, Lu Hanwen. You’ll understand when you see him play. He’s amazing. And fast! So, so fast. He’s still green and doesn’t always make the best judgement calls but he has plenty of time to learn. He’ll take over Troubling Rain one day.”

It’s a good thing Yu Wenzhou turned down the can of iced coffee Huang Shaotian offered him earlier, because he might have spit it out all over himself. How embarrassing. 

Huang Shaotian? Give up Troubling Rain? 

Everyone, even Yu Wenzhou, knows how much he adores that account card. There’s been more than one comment among the trainees that he’ll never find a wife because no one can live up to Troubling Rain. To hear him talk so casually about giving up his precious account is shocking. And yet more proof that this older Huang Shaotian is not the one Yu Wenzhou knows. 

The man walking beside him has grown from the training camp star into an adult with his own protege.

He’s always quietly had his reservations about Huang Shaotian’s maturity, wondering silently if his brand of loud egoism and irreverence would hold him back from ever being a true professional. Yu Wenzhou suddenly feels like he’s the one who doesn’t live up to expectations.

The thought is only reinforced by what comes next.

“Oh um, Wenzhou,” Huang Shaotian bites his lip and brings them to a halt before they can enter the training room. “About Hanwen. He really looks up to you. To both of us. I know you don’t know him yet, but don’t push him away, okay? This is hitting him hard.”

It’s hitting me hard, Yu Wenzhou doesn’t say. “Of course,” is what he says instead. “I’ll be gentle with your protege.”

Huang Shaotian looks at him strangely. “Our protege.”

For the second time, Yu Wenzhou is brought up short. The more he learns about this current time period, the more unbelievable it is. Not only is he Blue Rain’s captain, Swoksaar’s user, and apparently close friends with Huang Shaotian, but the two of them are raising up a pro player together. How deeply are their lives entangled? 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for, “You know the team best. How should we play this?”

“Just be honest with them. They want to know you’re okay, they’re so worried. It isn’t just Little Lu who looks up to you, do you know that? They all do. You’re—well the older you—you’re their captain. One of Glory’s Four Master Tacticians. Which is just as cool as it sounds. You’re so smart at making plans. You create all the team’s tactics and you tailor it to each of us and our strengths and our skills and our weapons and whoever our opponent is. You do all that, it’s amazing.”

It’s a lot to take in, and not just the barrage of nonstop words. Yu Wenzhou has spent so much time studying everything about Glory down to the last detail, in a desperate effort to prove that he’s better than his slow hand speed, and all he’s gotten for it is ridicule when it still isn’t enough. How can it be that in the future (technically he supposes it’s the past but it feels like the future to him) he’s achieved everything he’s ever dreamed of?

He almost turns around and leaves, swept by another wave of helpless frustration. It’s not fair that he can’t remember. It’s not fair.

Instead, he mentally recites the player summaries Huang Shaotian gave him. Back in his room, he’d watched a couple of the videos Huang Shaotian gave him, between doing his own research on the internet and looking through his olders self’s notebooks, and it hammered home that whoever these people are, they’re a tight knit group that trusts their captain. 

Blue Rain is his team. 

His stomach turns as they walk the rest of the way to the training room, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s not just dread. The swoop in his guts is excitement. He has a team, one that accepts him rather than merely tolerates him. He wants to meet the people his older self surrounded himself with. Perhaps meeting them will help him understand what watching pre-recorded matches on a screen didn’t.

“Are you ready?” Huang Shaotian asks, shaking him from his thoughts. 

He isn’t, but if he let trivial things like that stop him, he’d still be living at home with his parents. 

“Yes.”

.

The room falls silent when they enter.

It lasts for the longest three seconds in Yu Wenzhou’s life and then the roar of multiple voices breaks over it. It’s impossible to pick out individual words with so many overlapping voices, but he hears a lot of “Captain,” and “feeling okay,” and “so young.” The last one in particular makes him want to turn around and leave.

He doesn’t.

“Captain! Captain!” A high pitched voice cries out.

Yu Wenzhou almost turns and looks for Captain Wei except before he can, he sees a short, skinny kid running up to him with so much enthusiasm Yu Wenzhou feels exhausted just looking at him.

The same kid from the hospital. Lu Hanwen, he remembers.

The kid stops short right in front of him and beams. “Wow you’re only a little older than me, this is so cool! Does this mean you won’t make me do homework anymore? Can we play Glory all day? You still like Glory, right Captain?”

Hushed whispers sweep across the room, and Yu Wenzhou notices several wide-eyed stares, like the thought that he might not like the same things as before is just occurring to the majority of them.

Yu Wenzhou breaks the silence with a warm laugh, the way he often sees Captain Wei do when tensions rise during training. His own laugh doesn’t sound nearly as raspy as the captain’s--his has softer, warmer edges--but it works just the same. The whispers die down and some of the fearful looks ease. Inwardly, Yu Wenzhou sighs in relief. 

“I still like Glory,” he confirms. “From my perspective, I was at Blue Rain this morning, so if I didn’t like to play, that would be a problem.”

It earns him a few laughs.

“You’re in training camp, right? I overheard Huang Shao talking to the doctor and that’s what he said. I bet you and Huang Shao were the best together back then.” A ripple of agreement sweeps over the team. “Will you tell us about it?”

“No!” Huang Shaotian’s refusal sounds more like a squeak, and Yu Wenzhou can’t quite hide the smile spreading over his lips. “No he will not! It was boring anyway, nothing to tell, nothing interesting at all.”

“Maybe later, Hanwen,” Yu Wenzhou says, once he’s confident he can speak without laughing. Who knew teasing Huang Shaotian could be so much fun? Has his older self discovered that yet?. He’ll write himself a note in one of his notebooks, just in case.

“I guess this means you’re going to win our wager,” a sedate voice breaks through the low din of voices.

Yu Wenzhou knows that voice, even though his face has aged. He’s happy to see his assumption in the infirmary was right. Zheng Xuan made the pro team.

“I was going to win it anyway,” Yu Wenzhou says back, relieved to be on known ground for the moment. 

He sees Huang Shaotian frown and maybe it’s petty of him but he’s enjoying this reversal of their roles. Ever since he woke up, it’s felt like Huang Shaotian knows him better than he knows himself. It’s nice to be the one in possession of information, for a change. Even if the information is trivial.

“Zheng Xuan made the mistake of wagering against me. We didn’t have anything to wager on at the time, so we bet on our careers.”

“You?” The person beside Zheng Xuan shoves at his shoulder. “You can barely be bothered to get out of bed in the morning and you’re making bets with the captain?”

Zheng Xuan shrugs. “He wasn’t the captain at the time.”

“You can’t leave it at that, tell us the rest.” the other player says. When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns to Yu Wenzhou. “What was the bet?” After a moment, he quickly adds, “Oh. Sorry, Captain. I’m Song Xiao.”

Yu Wenzhou humors him, mostly because he appreciates that he offered his name. “The wager was on who would have the longer professional career.”

Zheng Xuan groans. “Now that he’s seventeen again, there’s no way I can win.” 

A round of good natured mocking follows.

From beside him, Huang Shaotian cackles. “Zheng Xuan, Zheng Xuan, you should know better than that. With the captain’s hands, he’ll be playing until he’s fifty!”

Automatically, Yu Wenzou tenses. The reminder of his poor speed has always been a test of his will, of his ability to appear unaffected while his biggest weakness is dragged out into the open and mocked. Except this time, he’s reminded again that nothing here is what he’s used to.

The laughter is friendly and the words that reach his ears are about his intelligence and his tactics. There isn’t a single derogatory comment. He can feel the warmth of Huang Shaotian as he steps closer and says, “My fault, my fault, I didn’t mean to bring up your hand speed, I know I’m the last person you want to hear that from.” Miraculously, his voice is soft enough for only Yu Wenzhou to hear.

“It’s okay,” he says back just as softly. Huang Shaotian nods at him like an eager puppy. Despite their age gap, Yu Wenzhou is tempted to pat him on the head.

“Captain,” Zheng Xuan adds, once the latest wave of laughter has settled. “We’re all happy to see that you’re alright.”

“Even if you’re younger than us, now!” a different voice calls out.

“Still not younger than Hanwen,” Song Xiao calls out, and the laughter starts up again.

It doesn’t take long before the room descends into chaos once more. Despite everyone’s high spirits, there's a tangible thread of concern and relief beneath the laughter. It doesn’t escape Yu Wenzhou that most of the team is standing a little too close to each other, as if their first instinct was to stick together to ride out the waves of this particular storm.

Warmth fills Yu Wenzhou’s chest at the sight of them. Blue Rain isn’t just a team. It’s a family.

“Captain? Are you still going to play?” A player that Yu Wenzhou doesn’t recognize steps forward from the back of the group.

“It’s a little early for that kind of question, Lin Feng.” Huang Shaotian shoots back.

Lin Feng, thief, practical and straightforward. Huang Shaotian had given him a helpful summary, albeit with a lot more words than that.

Inwardly, Yu Wenzhou is grateful to Huang Shaotian for deliberately giving him the name of the person who addressed him. There wasn’t time to go over individual photographs and he hates flying blind. He wonders if Huang Shaotian knows that, too. He thinks he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” Yu Wenzhou replies, before anyone else can echo the question. “Huang Shaotian and I are still discussing logistics. We’ll keep you informed.”

There are a bunch more questions that he can’t answer but he tries his best. Mostly, the team seems relieved to have him back, even if he’s not the captain they’re used to heaving around. He sticks around to talk to everyone individually, getting to know each of them in turn. It’s a little strange that they all treat him like he’s still their captain despite his age but he has time to puzzle it out later. 

He’s in the middle of talking to Xu Jingxi about music when Huang Shaotian comes up to him. “Blue River got back to me. I’m heading down to the guild. You coming?”

Yu Wenzhou nods and follows him, hopefully towards some answers.

[marienen]

Not believing in the gods

A genshin impact Oneshot about a MC, who is not Lumine or Aether.

* someone thinks *

“someone says something”

Au where only the Gods can use magic and normal people just live a normal boring life

It was a peaceful day in Mondstadt as always honestly. The City is beautiful, so it was not a suprise, that many Traveler came to the City to rest. Same goes for (Y/N). The last City she has visited was Liyue and that was a really different City in many ways. Living in Mondstadt  everyone cares for each other, while in Liyue it’s the opposite to put it lightly. But one Thing was the same, both cities have the same faith for their Gods. (Y/N) did not believe in Gods and all that stuff until Now-

(Y/N) Pov:

*I came to Mondstadt for some rest and a good drink, I heard the dandelion wine is the best here*. While I was walking in the city everyone was talking about their God  of freedom and how he protect the people with his blessing.

*Bruagh, why does all the people have such a big trust in their God, Liyue was also like but why I do not see any God here on earth*

“Hey The Bard is at the statue again, come I wanna hear him, he has such a beautiful voice”. A Tall blonde Woman said to her friend.

“Yeah I bet he always prayed so the God of freedom has gifted him his voice as a present for his faith” the other Woman answered.

* A beautiful voice, let’s hear it for myself*. Sadly in Liyue was not much music in the streets, food, jewels, business but no music.

So I followed the two girls to their destination.

“So good people of Mondstadt let me tell you a story of a young boy, hoping with his voice he could achieve many things and end the war, which was at the moment” a boy, who by the looks, must be the bard said.

For a glimpse moment the boy looked at (Y/N) and smiled at her.

“This song I now sing is for this brave boy, who lost his life, but also won with his death peace for his country” The Boy began to sing.

The young bard talked and sang to the people for 30 Minutes while he was always looking at (Y/N).

Venti Pov:

He saw that she was a traveler, not only by her looks also by her eyes. Hers was shining other than the people of Mondstadt. Those (E/C) were so intense so living, he was fascinated.

When he finished his demonstration of his voice and knowledge he went to his favorite bar. The same location where (Y/N) was right now.

He greeted Diluc who was washing the used glasses. Normally he would just sit at the front and drank alone while talking with many people and hoping to get drinks gifted for his songs, but not today. He came into the bar and saw the woman sitting in the corner with a drink, he would always recognize , the dandelion whine.

With small steps he went to her table and took a seat in front of her.

“Hello traveler, I saw you before at my performance I hope you liked what you saw” he sat with a playful voice.

“It was okey, have heard better voices” she answered.

“Outch, my poor soul, how can such a beautiful young lady hurt my feelings that much, what did you not like about it” Venti said with a playful voice.

The woman looked at him not sure if she wants to talk with him, but answered anyways.” Your voice was good, but the topic with the past and war and the end with the gods, just not my stuff”.

“How come?” Venti asked.

“I just don’t have much faith in the gods, people just imagined them because they need stuff to believe in” The Woman with (H/C) said.

*Oh,  that will be an interesting conversation* Venti thought.

“You’re the first person to think that way I have ever met in my life and believe me I am older than I look” Venti said while ordering a drink for himself.

“Well I can’t say I also met people with the same opinion as me. But I never saw anything that will prove Gods exist with their magic as written in the books” she said while drinking some of her whine.

“So you need some proof, is that what you want?” Venti asked with a smug in his face.

(Y/N) looked confused and answered “How can YOU  prove that gods have existed”?.

“Oh they still live here, they did not vanish dummy” Venti said and added “ Let’s make a deal you pay for the drinks and I prove that gods exist, if I not convince you I pay you back”.

(Y/N) Pov:

*Did that boy drank too much already or is he for real* (Y/N) thought.

*This is a very stupid idea in the end he kidnaps me or go to the church and wants to pray*

“Don’t  worry I won’t kidnap you, or will I?” Venti said.

*Can he read my mind* (Y/N) wondered.

He stood up and held his hand to me while saying “Come on it will be fun I promise I will not bite hard just if you want it that way”.

*Well I was not planing on doing anything else so why not* I thought while taking his hand.

I handed the barkeeper the money and was dragged outside by the boy, who not let go of my hand.

“By the way my name is Vent” the boy said while turning his head to me.

“(Y/N)” you answered to be polite.

Venti dragged me to a big tree and finally let go of my hand.

“Let’s make another rule for our little deal, when I win and convince you to believe in the gods I have a wish you must do and if not you can wish anything from me” Venti said with a smug face.

“Well because there is no way you can convince me okey” I said.

Suddenly Venti grabbed me in a hug and said “Suprise”.

With a big blast some kind of wind boosted us up in the air, the only thing i could do was scream and hold onto Venti, who was just laughing at me.

“How and why” I screamed at him.

“Well maybe the god of freedom want’s to demonstrated his power to a simple woman without believe” Venti said while flowing in the air with (Y/N).

A few seconds later Venti let go of (Y/N) and let her alone in the air. He flows around her like a butterfly while playfully saying “So do you now believe in US gods young (Y/N)”.

“Yes I believe in the gods but please put me down somehow” (Y/N) screamed.

“Then say I (Y/N) believe in the gods now , I belive in Barbatos” Venti said smiling.

(Y/N) did as he said and Venti took her back on the ground.

“Thank god” (Y/N) said while kissing the earth.

“Oh your welcome, that was very funny wanna do it again”? Venti asked.

“Noo are you for real I will not do that again” (Y/N) said still a little shocked.

A few moments pasted and (Y/N) asked “ So your Barabtos the god of freedom”?

“Yup and there are still seven more of us to believe in” Venti said.

“Okay I believe you but do not expect me do pray to you and all that stuff, just not my type” (Y/N) said while leaning against the tree.

“Well I guess I have a wish , which I will make now” Venti said while pressing here against the tree.

Her eyes looked in his while feeling his breath on her mouth.

Gently Venti kissed (Y/N) and after some time his hand explored her body.

After some time he took a step back

“So is this punishment for not believing in you if yes I could get used to it” (Y/N) said with a red face.

“Oh that was not a punishment but I can gladly show you how cruel I can be to naughthy girls” Venti said kissing her again.

———————————————————————————————–

This is my first time writing stuff in a different language than my native one, so I hope you did not found to many mistakes. ._.

I have written a few years before but it was in German.

Thank you for reading.

#genshin impact

#genshin impact fanfiction

#venti

[i-am-regular-scenarios]

A Private Lesson - Yuta Smut

Pairing: Yuta x Reader

Words: 11,700+

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Sexual / mature content and language

Summary: After moving in with your best friend you, set out to find a new dance studio to practice at. After falling upon one close to your apartment, you decide to give it a try. Little did you know though, there will a beautiful instructor waiting for you in that studio, that you just won’t be able to get enough of.

Songs Mentioned: the songs mentioned in the fic are Dancing With a Stranger by Sam Smith and Normani and The Only Exception by Paramore. If you’ve never heard them, I highly recommend you listen to them! It also is nice to know what they sounds like when you are reading the lyrics in this fic :)

A/N: I tried my best to proof read this, but knowing me there will still be spelling/grammar mistakes. Please don’t mind them, I will fix them up later

~

You rest yourself against the cool marble countertop in your kitchen as your roommate Jisoo swiftly walks past you. The speed of her strides sending a puff of fragrant air towards you. You watch her curiously as she hastily walks through your apartment with a basket of freshly washed laundry resting on her hip.

She finally sets herself on the couch and places the basket down on the coffee table. You smile to yourself before removing your body from the counter. You walk over and take the seat beside her, grabbing a shirt from the top of the basket as you sit.

You start to fold the shirt, enjoying the silence between you two. You have only been living with Jisoo for a few weeks now, but the experience has been nothing shy of enjoyable. You two have been best friends since you were kids, so when the opportunity for you to live together came up, you jumped on it. So far you have nothing to complain about.

“Have you found a studio yet?” Jisoo questions, while giving you a once over. You’re wearing what most people would deem workout attire, so you can only assume Jisoo already knows the answer to her question.  

You have been in search of a dance studio for a few weeks now. You use to dance at a local place near your parents house, but since you’ve moved in with Jisoo, it is sadly much too far away to go to now.

You’d say dance was more of a hobby for you, your days of recitals and showcases far behind you. You thought about just letting it go, and not finding a new studio, but even in just a few short weeks, you miss being able to let off some steam and learn new choreos. Dancing was just one of those things for you that would never lose interest in.  

“Actually, yes, I found a studio a few blocks away that I have heard is really good. I already signed up for a class. It starts in an hour,” you tell Jisoo happily.

The studio you found has amazing reviews and it seems like people really enjoy it there. The price for classes is very acceptable and they offer a lot of options. You decided on a hip hop class to start because it was always your favorite class when you were younger, and the one you are most confident in your abilities in. You decide that if you don’t enjoy the hip hop class at this new place, then there really was not going to be a need for you to stay there.

“Why haven’t you left yet then?” Jisoo questions with an eyebrow raised. She laughs at you before focusing her attention on the shirt in her hands.

“Because I have an hour and it’s practically around the corner,” you answer slowly.

You do like to be on time for things, but not that on time.

Jisoo laughs as you again. “This is just like on the first day of school Y/n you always want to be early. Scope everyone out. Maybe you’ll find a hot guy at this studio,” Jisoo adds the last part excitingly.

You scoff at her, “I doubt it.”

Although the idea of finding someone who was as passionate for dance as you are, was always high on your list of fantasies, but you doubt that you will find your love on the dance floor of this new studio. Hopefully some new friends, but you are sure the idea of love is unlikely.

“You never have any fun, you never give anything a chance. I bet there is going to be some cute guy at that studio and you’re just going to brush him off, per usual,” Jisoo states blandly. The tone of her voice causing an itch to settle over your skin.

“I do not do that,” you retort, getting up from your seat on the couch. You can feel Jisoo’s eyes watch you as you move. You can tell she’s not angry, just slightly annoyed by the tone of her voice.

You walk over to your door and start to put on your shoes. Eager now to take Jisoo’s advice and leave.

You are going to be honest here, even if you don’t want to be. Jisoo is kinda right. You “brush” people off, even if you don’t mean to. The idea of someone finding interest in you scares you. You get nervous and don’t know how to react. Whenever you see someone who you think is cute, you immediately deem them to be out of your league and you throw out any possibility of trying to talk to them. You will deny it to Jisoo though, because you know that the only way for you to stop doing it is for you to be confident in yourself and get over your fears on your own. You’ve been trying to work on it, really you have. However, there hasn’t been any opportunities for you to be brave recently. You are actually hoping for a fresh start at this studio though. You want to start your time there being sociable and confident.

“Mhm,” Jisoo hums to herself. “Whenever you see a guy that you think is attractive you always tell me all about him, but when I ask if you did anything to try and talk to him, you just say that the timing wasn’t right or something.”

You huff out a puff of air. She knows you so well.

“I’ll be home after 8,” you inform her before opening the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisoo yells back before you close the door.

~

You walk into the dance studio, being pleased with how nice it looks from the outside. The lobby is quite cozy with a few people resting and chatting at a table near the far left corner. You walk up to the front desk and are met by a girl who looks to be around your age. She greets you with warm smile.

“Hi, I’m here for the 7 o’clock hip hop class, my name is Y/n,” you state politely.

The girl types something on her computer before turning back to you. “You’re all set, it’s in studio 3, just down the hall. There isn’t a class in there, so you can go ahead and go in,” she points towards the hallway just to the left of her desk and you smile.

You offer her a thank you before you make your way down the hall.

You curiously look at all of the posters and pictures that liter the walls. Many of them being action shots of dancers. You finally make it to a glass door with “Studio 3” written on it. You peer in to see a few people spread around the room either talking or stretching. You take a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.

You notice once you enter, that the room is light and airy. The temperature, although a little on the cooler side, feels refreshing for a studio. The room doesn’t feel at all stuffy and the lights seem to make the whole area feel comforting. You smile at all this, feeling more and more pleased with the place. A few people turn to you and all offer you smiles. You feel warmed by this.

You look around the room and spot a row of cupboards on the wall. You walk over to them and find an empty one to place your bag in. You start to change your shoes when you hear the studio door open and a warm voice announce to the room.  

“Hi everyone,” the voice states happily.

You turn to look and your eyes land on a man. He is standing near the door and you feel all the air you have in your lungs escape in a short exhale. His blonde hair is falling nicely on his forehead and his eyes are soft and inviting. His facial features are sharp, but the smile he is wearing is in such contrast. You let your eyes wander for a few seconds before you turn back to putting your shoes on. Your fingers start to fumble a bit as you register that you will be dancing in the same room as such a beautiful man. You can tell just by looking at him that he is a good dancer. He just has that presence about him and clearly everyone around here knows him, he was greeted just as warmly as he greeted everyone else.

Immediately Jisoo’s words comes into your ear.

Don’t brush.

You feel a blush creep up to your cheeks. You promised yourself you would try and be brave, but all of that has just now been thrown out the window. That man is way too beautiful for you to try and be brave.

You finish up changing you shoes and stuff all of your things away into the cupboard. You check your phone one last time before you hear someone say your name behind you.

“Who knows me here?” your brain questions.

You turn around curiously as a girl approaches you with her arms extended outward for a hug. You recognize her immediately and happily accept her embrace. You two hug for a second before pulling away. She still looks just the same as she did when you last saw her. Annoyingly beautiful with a smile as warm and sweet as toasted marshmallows.

“It’s been forever, how are you?” Irene questions excitingly.

You smile at her, “I’m doing great, how are you?”

You use to dance with Irene at your old studio. You were quite close for a few years, but lost touch once she moved away with her family.

“I’m great, I can’t believe you’re here. When did you switch studios?” she questions.

You look at her and can’t help but smile remembering all the memories you have together. Irene could always make you smile and was just generally such a nice person to be around.

“Just a few weeks ago actually. I moved into an apartment here and finally got around to finding a new studio that’s closer to my place,” you reply and Irene’s face lights up.

“What a coincidence that you picked this one. I’m so excited you’re here. I actually was just thinking a few days ago about how much I missed my favorite partner,” Irene states with a giggle, poking at your arm lightly.

You offer her a smile as you feel a sense of relief rush over you. The fact that you now have someone here that you can talk with, makes you feel all the much better. Dancing in your opinion is always more fun when you have someone you can do it with.

“So what’s the deal here?” you question as you set your phone back into your bag.

“Well this class has been running for like a month now, but Yuta is really good about making it so people can join as they please. We are learning a new choreo today, so you started on the right day,” Irene replies, before taking a sip of her water.

“Is Yuta the instructor?” you question a little confused. Any instructor you have ever had before, you always called them Mr. or Mrs. whatever their last name is. You’ve never referred to an instructor so casually.

“Yeah, he is probably the best instructor I have ever had. He’s super nice and an incredible dancer. He has such a good energy about him and he does really well with explaining and demonstrating choreographies. Not to mention that the choreos he creates are nothing shy of amazing.” Irene looks almost star stuck as she talks about Yuta. You can’t help but admire that.

“Which one is Yuta?” you question while scanning the room. You notice the beautiful man from earlier is talking to a shorter brunette guy by the giant stereo system. You look at him for a second before turning your attention back to Irene.

“He’s the blonde one over there in the Chicago bulls windbreaker,” Irene says pointing towards the stereo. Your eyes double as you realize she is talking about the beautiful man you’ve been staring at since he entered the room.

“That is Yuta?” you question with wide eyes. You feel a blush creep itself up onto your cheeks.

Well if you thought you were nervous before about dancing next to him, now you feel like you’re going to explode because you have to dance, his own choreography, for him.

“I know, he’s handsome isn’t he,” Irene states with a giggle.

The chatter in the studio starts to lesson as Yuta’s voice bounces off the walls. “Alright guys, let’s get started.”

Irene lets out a giggle before linking her arm with yours and dragging you towards the center of the room. You feel out of place at first but the feeling of Irene being next to you, helps you to start to feel a little more grounded.

You watch as Yuta smiles brightly at everyone in the room. His eyes land on you for a second and he offers you a smile. The eye contact ends as quick as it began and he is averting his attention to someone else. You feel your cheeks continue to burn as the image of Yuta’s eye contact replays itself in your mind. Surprisingly, you want more.

Yuta starts the class by leading everyone in some stretching. The atmosphere is happy and Yuta talks lightly with a few of the other dancers. Irene asks you a bit about your apartment and promises to show you a few good restaurants near your place.

You quickly realize that you really like it here. The atmosphere perfectly fits what you were looking for. Just a big group of people passionate about dancing. So far no one seems to be here for any reason other than to have a good time. Everyone is chatting lightly with each other while you stretch. Your last studio focused too much on their competitions and everyone was usually silent and focused. As you grew older the intensity became quite annoying. You just wanted to have fun, you didn’t care about anything else.

Once everyone seemed all stretched and ready, Yuta stands up and begins the class.

~

You end the last dance with a bead of sweat running down your temple and a smile on your face. The music fades out as the whole room claps together and Yuta dismisses everyone. The choreo Yuta taught you guys was moderately easy, but extremely fun. It makes you feel like a piece of your heart has found its way back home now that you have danced again.

When Irene said that Yuta was an incredible dancer, she surely wasn’t lying. He is able to dance with this energy about him that captures the entire room. His movements are fluid and precise, while his expressions are always on point. You couldn’t help the way you stared at him as he effortlessly executed the routine he was teaching you.

Also the fact that he has this flawlessly handsome appearance didn’t help anything.

“How was it?” Irene questions as you two make it to the cupboards to grab your things and change your shoes.

“It was amazing! I haven’t felt this good after a class in a long time,” you reply as you remove your shoes and stuff them into your bag.

“That’s how I felt the first time too. It’s so nice and relaxed here, it’s just people having fun dancing,” Irene replies.

“That’s exactly what I was feeling,” you add, turning to her with a smile. You notice someone coming up to your right, so you turn to look at them. You lock eyes with Yuta and feel your chest clench. He is a bit sweaty but his eyes are bright and he wears a beautiful smile atop is lips.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t get to greet you earlier. I’m Yuta, I hope you liked the class,” Yuta says to you with a blinding smile. You feel your body start to melt into a puddle.

“I loved it, I’m Y/n,” you reply slowly, unsure of what else to say. You feel your grip on your bag tighten.  

You look over at Irene who is planting a kiss on the guy’s cheek who was next to the stereo with Yuta earlier. You learned through the class that his name is Ten and he is Yuta’s assistant and friend.

“You are a really good dancer Y/n,” Ten states to you with a soft smile. “Your motions are very strong.”

You feel warm at the compliment.

“She really is isn’t she?,” Irene begins, “Y/n and I use to dance with each other when we were kids. She was probably the best in our whole studio.”

Irene looks at you happily, while wrapping her arm around Ten’s. You practically choke at her words.

“Thank you but I wouldn’t say I was the best. Not when you were there at least,” you reply with a laugh, to which Irene joins in.

“Nevertheless, I agree, you are really good,” Yuta adds from beside you. All you can do is smile at him.

Hearing the compliment come from him makes the warming feeling stick itself to you. It feels like a dream that someone as amazing as him would complement your dancing.

“Will you be back on Thursday?” Ten questions. You feel three pairs of eyes turn to look at you.

“Of course,” you reply softly, earning smiles from everyone.

Yuta nods from beside you before excusing himself to talk to another dancer.

You feel your pulse begin to slow from it’s quick pace as you, Irene, and Ten start to walk towards the door to leave. You turn your head as you are leaving and take one last glance at Yuta. He is packing his things with a soft expression. You smile to yourself before exiting the studio.

~

The following week you are back putting your shoes away at your usual cupboard, when Irene walks up next to you. You turn to her and smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off of her.

“Hi,” you say happily, giving her a big smile.

Before she can get a word in, you watch as Ten wraps his arms around her waist causing a squeal to fall from her lips. You find the brightness on her face to be quite adorable, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit jealous.

Her and Ten always look so cute as they sneak glances at each other throughout class and their smiles are always radiant when the other is around. You learned a few classes ago that Irene met Ten at the studio and they’ve been dating for the better part of 5 months.

Once Ten releases Irene he turns to you and offers you a toothy grin.

“Hi Y/n, how are you?” Ten questions happily. You can’t help but smile at his energy.

“I’m great Ten, how are you?” you reply happily, slipping your shoes into the cupboard.

“Good,” he replies. He gives Irene a quick peck on the cheek before excusing himself.

Irene gives you a goofy look as she watches Ten walk away.. You turn over your shoulder and watch as Ten makes his way over to Yuta, punching his arm as he comes up next to him. The expression on Yuta’s face seems annoyed as he continues to eye Ten through a slitted gaze. Ten doesn’t seem fazed.

You avert your attention back to your cupboard and wait for Yuta to gather everyone to start class.

~ Later that class period, you and Irene are going through a new part of the choreo together as the studio buzzes with light chatter. The other people in the room practicing like you are, while chatting amongst themselves.

“Is your arm supposed to be more diagonal at 6 or closer to your ear?” Irene questions to you. She alternates her arm between each motion variation as you watch her.

“Diagonal,” you reply before demonstrating that part of the 8 count to her. She smiles with a nod before repeating the same motion a few times to commit it to memory.

You two continue to practice silently for a few more seconds, and you don’t seem to notice as Yuta softly comes up behind you. You are too engrossed in your own thoughts to notice him, but his presence finally becoming aware when his voice cuts through your ears, making you to jump a bit. He notices your fright and smiles.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Yuta offers. Irene snorts from beside you. You give her a look that only causes her smile to grow.

“Make sure you keep your elbow up at 4 okay, you don’t want it horizontal,” Yuta offers to you. You stand, a bit confused at his correction and absentmindedly bring your elbow up to the intended move as Yuta watches. You start to move your elbow up and down, trying to determine the perfect angle. You feel a cold spark rush over your skin though when you feel Yuta’s light fingers touch your forearm. He applies light pressure, signalling for you to raise your elbow upward. You suck in your breath as you move your elbow as he wants. Never before having ever been this close to Yuta, you can’t help it when your mind starts to feel mushy, and a soft blush making its way up to your cheeks. Happy with your arm placement Yuta removes his fingers and then leaves you to go check on another dancer.

You stand in the same position for a second before slowly dropping your arms down to your waist.

You look over at Irene who is slightly shaking her head at you.

“What?” you question.

Irene just shakes her head and smiles.

~

It has been a few weeks since you started at the studio and you would be lying if you said your entire life does not feel like it has begun to revolve around you going to the studio. Every waking moment you feel your body craving to be back there. You find your class to be the best you’ve ever had the privilege of attending, and with even just one foot placed inside the building, you feel your mind relax and a smile makes its way onto your lips.

Yuta is able to come up with these choreographies that are always so fun and energizing to learn. The amount of confidence and power you feel while executing them is so addicting.

You and Irene have completely rekindled your friendship and you are able to talk and laugh like you never were apart.

You try to tell yourself that these are the only reasons you love coming to the studio, but let’s be real here. We all know those are not the only reasons. You can’t quite explain it, but Yuta has this power over you that you have never felt before. He doesn’t even pay much attention to you, just a smile while stretching and a goodbye at the end of the day, but you just can’t seem to understand what it is that’s making you so interested in him. You tried to tell yourself it was just his dancing and the fact that he is probably one of the most handsome men you’ve ever had the privilege of looking at, but if you’re being honest, it is much more than that.

It is his smile. The way it lights up a room.

It is his caring personality and passion, and the way he is able to joke and laugh.

It is the way he is so patient and kind with everyone in the class, never once getting frustrated.

Most of all, it is just the way he makes everyone feel like they are welcome.

Irene has noticed your fondness towards Yuta, and decided to make it a goal to tease you every day about it.

~

You step out of your bedroom happily and walk towards your front door. Jisoo is lounging on the couch, watching a movie when she pauses it upon your entrance. You turn to her.

“I booked a private room at the studio tonight, I’ll be back a little later,” you tell her with a smile.

Jisoo looks at you. “Is the hot instructor going to be there?” she questions with an eyebrow raised.

You originally tried to keep Yuta a secret from her, but she was able to notice you wearing perfume one day to class and saw through every lie your tried to throw at her about it. Once the gates were open about Yuta, Jisoo listened as you poured out all of your thoughts about him. His dancing, his personality, the whole nine yards. She listened intently to you, as you gushed to her over your school girl like crush. Once you were down Jisoo gave you her signature eyebrow raise and you knew exactly what words she was about to scold you with. You quickly informed her before she could get a word in, that you were certainly not brushing Yuta, to which she rolled her eyes at you. You then promised that you would have Irene help you talk to him and Jisoo seemed satisfied enough to drop the scold from the tip of her tongue. Little does she know though, that that will probably never happen.

“I honestly don’t know,” you respond while slipping your shoes on.

Jisoo sucks in air as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“Well have fun, I am going out tonight so let me know when you get home if I am not still here,” Jisoo states with a soft smile. You nod to her before leaving the apartment.

~

You walk into the studio giving a soft smile to the girl behind the reception desk. She nods back at you with a smile matching your own.

“Studio 6 is open for you,” she states softly, already knowing what you were going to ask before you asked it.

You nod to her before slipping your way down the hall.

You are making your way around the corner, when you notice Yuta and Ten standing in the hallway.

“Come on Ten, just stay,” Yuta practically whines. Ten chuckles as you feel your cheeks start to flush at Yuta’s tone of voice. It’s so soft and cute.

“I’m tired Yuta and plus Irene is making me dinner,” Ten whines causing a pout to spread across Yuta’s face.

You watch as Yuta drags his hand down Ten’s arm with big puppy dog eyes. Never before have you ever seen Yuta look so soft. It causes a huge tingle to spread itself through your chest. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you let out a rather gross and loud snort at the sight of Yuta. Both of the boys whip their heads in your direction, a huge shit eating grin plastering on Ten’s face as he notices you. Yuta drops his hand from Ten.

“Y/n! What brings you here?” Ten practically yells as he walks over to you, seeming ecstatic to get away from Yuta.

“Just came for a bit of practice,” you begin, “I booked a private room”.

“What a coincidence,” Ten gushes to you. “Yuta is here to practice too and what better way to practice, than with the master himself. Why don’t you practice with Yuta?”

You feel your eyes grow wide as Ten leans into you, “please say yes, he’s too clingy for me and I want to go home. Also Irene has told me about how much you admire dear Yuta, now you two can have some alone time.” You feel your eyes practically burst out of your head as Ten lets his words roll confidently off his tongue as his eyebrows raise with excitement, quite pleased with your reaction to his statement.

You are going to kill Irene the next time you see her.

You stare at Ten as he waves to you before practically skipping down the hall and out of sight. You let your eyes wander for a second before they fall on Yuta who is staring at you. You swallow down your embarrassment and slowly make your way over to him.

“Do you want to practice with me?” Yuta questions, before giving you a soft smile.

You look at him for a second and then give him a nod. “That would be great.”

You both make your way into the studio and you continue over to the cupboards to set your things down, seemingly feeling quite out of place. Your anxiety starts to skyrocket as you notice how silent the studio is. The usual sound of soft chatter and laughter far gone as you are hyper aware that you are in fact alone in this big room of mirrors with only Nakamoto Yuta himself.

You finish setting your stuff down and make your way over to center of the room. Yuta has his back to you, as he fiddles with the stereo. You look at the curvature of his back as you snake your eyes up to his strong shoulders. You quickly snap the image from your mind as you sit down to take the opportunity to stretch out on the floor. You are stretching out your arm when you look back up at Yuta. You notice his gaze through the mirror before he averts his attention back to the stereo. You brush this off and switch arms.

Once you are done stretching, Yuta turns around and you stand up.

“What were you going to practice today?” Yuta questions. You look at him through the mirror.

“I was going to go over what you taught last week…” your voice trails off. “After that, I think I was just going to mess around, maybe freestyle or something.”

Yuta nods at this before selecting the song on his phone.

“Lets see what you got,” Yuta states with a sharp edge to his voice. The hairs on your arms raise at his tone and you can’t help but smile.

The music starts to flood through the studio and Yuta joins you in the center of the floor. You take in a deep breath before you and Yuta both start the choreography.

~

You continue through the “private” lesson with ease, going through one choreo to the next. You find yourself lost in the way Yuta dances, as he looks completely at peace next to you. You notice more than once, his eyes traveling across your frame, but you account it to be just because you are the only one here, and that he is just simply checking your form.

His soft gaze falls on you again as you shout over the music that you are excusing yourself to get some water.

You make it to your water bottle and take a few much needed sips. You turn to watch Yuta as he starts to freestyle to the music. His eyebrows drawn together as a look of concentration spreads across his face. Your eyes freely dancing across him, enjoying how his skin glows under the studio light. His cheeks are slightly flushed but he looks so effortlessly beautiful that way.

You watch him with contentment as his perfect movements seem to draw you deeper and deeper towards him. You find yourself sighing as you try and peel your gaze off him. Realizing quickly that you are becoming way too attached to the idea of him. He is really just your instructor isn’t he. I mean maybe after today you could call him your friend, but that’s probably about it. You tried to tell yourself a few weeks ago while laying in bed one night, that you wouldn’t brush this time. You would find a way to one day look Yuta in the eyes and try your best to get close to him. However, after just a few practices, you quickly realized that Yuta was unlike anyone you had ever met before. His genuity and charm quickly sucked you up. Yuta makes your mind go fuzzy and your body feel like it wants to turn a deep shade of crimson. Yuta is just so intimidating to you.

You think back to the beginning of the lesson, when you were extremely nervous to be in the presence of Yuta. The idea that he was more physically closer to you than he had ever been before, making your chest feel like it was about to explode. However, after a few routines and Yuta’s humor, you feel quite relaxed. The air around you two light and you seem to enjoy each other’s company. You learned that he had been dancing since he was in middle school and he has always wanted to be a choreographer.

You take your eyes off Yuta as the lyrics to the song slip past your ears and you close your eyes, humming to yourself.

I need somebody who can take control

I know exactly what I need to do

‘Cause I don’t want to be alone tonight

You open your eyes slowly and notice Yuta is staring at you. His eyes slightly hooded as he continues to dance along slowly to the music. You can’t tell if it’s because of the song, or maybe it even has something to do with Yuta’s gaze, but you find yourself setting your water bottle down as you make your way over to him. All thoughts in your mind gone as you walk across the dance floor. You watch his movements for a bit before deciding to try and match him. He catches your gaze through the mirror and gives you a smirk. Yuta takes his hand and rests it on your hip. He looks at you in the mirror, checking to make sure you are okay with this. You smile and start to move with him. The heat of his large hand seeping deep into the skin of your side.

Look what you made me do,

I'm with somebody new

Ooh, baby, baby, I'm dancing with a stranger

You and Yuta continue to move together, making up your movements as you go. Yuta’s hand slides from where it was placed on your hip, and he brings his fingers up to your arm and traces down it to the rhythm of the song. You giggle at the slight tickle his digits admit and Yuta smiles.

You turn your head slightly to glance at yourself in the mirror. A slow bead of sweat sliding its way down your face as you sway to the music, Yuta standing behind you. You watch his face as his lips come close to your neck. The feeling of his hot breath fanning over the skin above your collarbone. He pulls his head away quickly and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. All you can do is look at him, lost in a fantasy. The feeling of his breath, the touch of his skin, all bleeding into your imagination. Oh how much you crave all that is Nakamoto Yuta.

The song seems to end too soon, and you and Yuta are breathing heavily, both wearing matching grins as you step away from each other.

“We probably should get going,” Yuta states, looking over at the clock on the wall.

You follow his gaze and nod, realizing the time. You feel a ping of sadness settle in you though, at the realization that you will have to leave this daydream of a night.

You give Yuta one last final glance through the mirror before you both make your way to the cupboards and collect your things.

You find your way out of the building, both politely smiling to the receptionist as you exit. You walk out into the night air, a chill rushing its way up your legs. The temperature contrast feeling nice on your burning skin. Whether the burn is from your recent work out of dancing, or the memory of Yuta on your skin, you will never know.

“My car is this way,” Yuta begins softly, “I can drive you home.” You are caught off guard for a second as you turn to look at him. His eyes are shining under the streetlight as he looks at you. You drop your gaze to notice the keys in his hand before you shake your head slowly.

“Oh no, that’s okay. I live just a few blocks away. It would be a waste to drive. Besides the air outside feels nice,” you reply, giving him a small smile.

You don’t think you could stand being in close corners with Yuta anymore. His scent of wood and fresh peeled citrus is enough to set your insides more on fire than they already are. At least out here the wind takes his intoxicating scent away before it can get to you.

“Oh, then I’ll walk you home,” Yuta insists while shoving his keys into his pocket.

A prickle of nervousness erupts through your body at his words.

You are about to tell him not to bother, when he starts to walk away from you and down the street. You stand there frozen for a second before you let out a deep sigh.

The universe is really doing this to you tonight isn’t it.

You watch Yuta as he continues to walk down the sidewalk, not stopping once to see if you were following him. With another sigh, you break out into a swift jog until you have met up with Yuta’s long strides. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, before smirking to himself.

You really want to kiss that smirk right of his beautiful face.

You two continue down the street in silence for a few seconds before you can’t quite seem to stand it anymore. The sound of the wind picking up around you eats away at your insides.

“So how did you and Ten meet?” you question softly, picking at the strap of your bag.

“We met in high school actually, through mutual friends,” Yuta replies.

You focus on the cement beneath your feet as you continue walking with Yuta. “What was he like back then?”

He walks for a second before chuckling to himself lightly. “I actually thought he was shy at first, but we all know how that went.”

You laugh at his reply. Completely understanding the misconception. You use to think the same thing about Irene. Maybe that is why they fit so well together.

“You and Irene used to dance together right?” Yuta questions, looking at you.

You nod.

“Yeah we trained at the same studio for about 5 years together until she had to move with her parents. We were pretty close actually, and we were usually always the two picked to do duets together,” you reply smiling, thinking fondly back to the old memories.

“I can honestly tell though, you two work really well together,” Yuta adds smiling. You feel bubbly from his words.

The conversation drops as you feel a splash of liquid fall onto your cheek. Startled, you stop walking and look up at the sky. Yuta notices this and turns to face you. You watch in astonishment as a swirl of dark angry clouds find their way circling above your head. The wind picks up around you, blowing your hair off your shoulders.

Yuta follows your gaze to the sky and a large raindrop finds itself smashed right in the center of his forehead. He lets out a soft “oh” at the sensation.

You drop your gaze from the sky to look at Yuta. Who is already looking at you with an expression of surprise.

You two stand there for a second, both seeming glued to your spots on the pavement.

Within the next instant, the few raindrops you felt prior, turn into a million and you begin to become soaked from the precipitation.

You can feel your shirt as it clings tightly to your body, now being weighed down by the weight of the rain. You watch as fat droplets land onto Yuta’s face. Sliding down his chiseled cheeks allowing the streetlight to catch the angulature of his face and make his skin glow.

In a burst of energy, you reach your hand down to grasp onto Yuta’s. You pull his arm and start to drag him down the street towards your apartment.

Yuta doesn’t object to this and allows you to pull him until you have reached the front of your building.

You pull him quickly under the safety of the awning. You release his hand before trying to pull your clothes away from your drenched body. Yuta lets out a low chuckle, causing you to look up at him. His smile growing bigger by the second.

“I didn’t think it was suppose to rain at all today,” Yuta states out, the smile staying static across his lips.

“Me either,” you begin. You look down to yourself and register just how wet you two actually are. “Why don’t you come in, get yourself dry and wait out the rain before you head back to your car.”

“I’ll be fine Y/n don’t worry about me,” Yuta starts, readjusting his bag on his shoulder.

You give him a hard gaze. A loud crack of lighting lights up the sky next to you causing you to jump from the shock. Yuta’s eye grow big as he too was startled.

“On second thought, maybe I should come in for a bit,” Yuta finally sighs.

You nod to him before turning to open the door. Once your back is to him, you can’t help the smile that finds its way on your face.

You finally get the door open, and step in to lead the way to your apartment, your shoes making a gross sloshing sound as you walk down the hallway. The chill of the building air hits your wet and exposed legs and you shiver.

You make it to your apartment door and eagerly step inside, dropping your bag down and slipping your wet shoes off. Yuta comes up behind you and does the same.

“I am going to go dry off and change,” you begin slowly. Your train of thought stopping as you consider Yuta. What is he going to wear?

“I can try and see if we have anything that would fit you,” you offer, looking at him with a knitted expression.

“Oh don’t worry about it, I have extra clothes in my bag that I can change into,” Yuta clarifies, causing a sense of relief to rush over you. You weren’t very hopeful that you would have anything for him to wear anyway.

“Okay, I’ll come back with a towel for you in a minute,” you state softly before excusing yourself to your bedroom.

After a long struggle of trying to peel off your wet clothing, you finally get changed and grab a few towels. You brush through your hair quickly and exit your room to find Yuta.

You step into the living room and you practically drop the towels at the sight in front of you.

Yuta is standing near your couch with his wet clothes in his arms. He now has on a new set of grey sweatpants that hang just low enough to expose the waistband of his black boxers. Your eyes travel upward catching slightly on the exposure of his hips. The bones protruding out slightly. His torso is bare of a shirt, and small water droplets litter his chest, making him look like he is glistening. His abdomen and forearms are layered with muscle and cause your cheeks to heat in an instant. You snap your gaze up to Yuta’s face just as he seems to notice your presence.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were changing,” you blurt out quickly. Turning around to have your back facing the beautiful man in your living room.

You hear Yuta chuckle from behind you.

“Don’t worry, I am already changed, I just actually don’t have and extra shirt. Could I put this in your dryer maybe?” he questions softly.

You let yourself breath slowly as you try and collect your composure. After a few more shaky breaths, you turn yourself back around.

“Of course,” you answer, making sure to keep your eyes glued on his face.

You walk across the room and offer Yuta a towel. He accepts it graciously and hands over his wet clothes. You take them and quickly turn to make your way to your laundry area. You throw his clothes into the thankfully empty dryer and set it on a cycle.

You come back out into the living room to see Yuta rubbing his hair with the towel. “Would you like something to drink?” you question, skipping the living room and walking towards your kitchen.

“Water please, thank you,” he replies, lowering the towel from his head.

You disappear into the kitchen and quickly let yourself crouch down, letting out a letting out a long sigh.

Yuta is in my apartment right now. Nakamoto Yuta is in my apartment, he is shirtless and wet, and I am freaking the hell out in the kitchen.

You feel the veins in your chest pump profusely as your heart rate picks up speed. You screw your eyes shut and try to calm your breathing when you hear Yuta’s voice break through the silent apartment.

“You have a record player?” he questions, happiness, apparent in his voice.

You open up your eyes and stare at your kitchen floor. You feel your breath steady as you try to keep your voice even. “Yeah, you can play something if you want,” you call back. You hear a bit of shuffling and you determine that he picking something to play.

You pull yourself up from your position and get yourself and Yuta a glass of water. You drink about half of your glass before refilling it and turning to make your way back into the living room. Collecting yourself as you do.

You hear the scratching of the record player before the soft sounds of Paramore’s The Only Exception, start to fill your ears. You smile to yourself, as this is your favorite record. You would have not picked Yuta for being a Paramore fan, but you are surely not complaining.

You walk out of the kitchen and notice Yuta standing over your vinyl set. His back to you. Your eyes trace up the tight muscles of his shoulders and you feel a heat start to spread across your lower stomach. The sight of him becoming too much for you to handle. You make your way over to him and hand him his water. He accepts it and you watch him take a sip as he sways to the music.

When I was younger I saw

My daddy cry, and curse at the wind

You set down your drink and look over at Yuta. He has since set his own drink down and is also looking at you. He stares at you for a second before taking his hand and extending it to you, silently asking you to dance. You almost thinking about declining given the circumstances. He is shirtless and you are way more affected by it than you care to admit. You stare at his hand for a few seconds like a complete idiot, contemplating the idea of dancing with him. You finally decide to screw all the rushing thoughts in your head. You’ve already made it this far and clearly he is comfortable enough to offer the dance. You look up at him and slowly slide your hand into his grip. The feeling bringing back that signature blush to you cheeks.

And that was the day I promised

I would never sing of love

If does not exist

You let your gaze look up into Yuta’s as he pulls you close, his right hand sliding itself, to the small of your back. You are close enough to him to feel the heat the radiates from him, but not close enough to touch. You two begin to sway slowly together, matching the rhythm of the song.

“Is there any kind of dance you are bad at?” Yuta questions cheerfully, completely catching you off guard

You laugh at his question, but don’t answer, too stunned by everything happening right now to form a coherent sentence.

You look over at where your hands are intertwined and Yuta releases your back before moving his arm to twirl you around. You feel your stomach flutter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You return back to your original position with Yuta, who now has a smile on his perfect pink lips. The feeling of the spin and the smell of Yuta, starts to cloud your head and your smile quickly falls. His sweet words flowing like courage through your body.

Darling,

you are the only exception

You can’t seem to help it when your eyes fall down to look onto Yuta’s lips. Soft and plump. The desire to known just how they taste, comes rushing through your body.

You are the only exception

Before your judgement can even seem to catch you, your face pushes forward and your lips softly connect to Yuta’s. You both stop swaying and your mind blanks as you feel just how incredibly soft and irresistable Yuta’s lips are. You both pull away a few seconds later and you let your eyes flutter open. The realization hits you as you looking into the saucers that are now Yuta’s eyes. You both release each other and Yuta breaks eye contact.

You just kissed him. You just went ahead and kissed him. Why are you such an idiot?!

“Ugh, ” Yuta begins staring straight at you. The look on his face feeling like the weight of a million bricks has come crashing down on top of your body.  

A rush a guilt washes over you and you want to cry.

You fucked it up Y/n, you really fucked it up. For once in your life you actually do something, and you mess the whole damn thing up.

You start to grow panicked, “I am so sorry Yuta, I can’t believe I just did that,” you mumble the last part to yourself and you lower your head.

“I really like you Y/n,” Yuta spits out, causing your eyes to flash up to him. “I have liked you practically from the moment you stepped into the dance studio, but I didn’t want to make anything awkward between us. I tried to stay away or not make any advances on you, but I don’t know what just happened to me. I just got caught up, I’m sorry I kissed you, that was wrong. You can totally find a new instructor, I completely understand,” Yuta looks at you with sorrow filled eyes. A deep crimson blush dusting his ears. One perfectly matching that of the one on your cheeks right now.

What is he even talking bout?

You grow confused with his confession. “What are you talking about Yuta, I kissed you just now?”

Yuta’s brows knit together with your question.

“I know it was so wrong of me. I just couldn’t help it. Shit I feel like I took advantage of you,” you rush out, growing more embarrassed with each passing second.

“I thought I kissed you though?” Yuta states out, confusion dripping from his words.

“I have liked you from the first time I saw you. You’re just so caring and sweet and I just couldn’t seem to shake you from my mind. You are always so willing to help everyone and your smile makes the entire room light up. Your dancing is addicting to watch. Everything was going great, but then you had to go and take your shirt off and god damn you’re just so incredibly hot and…” You slap your hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the words that you just let spew out.

I really just called him hot… to his face...

Yuta straightens up as his eyes narrow at you. His whole demeanor seeming to change at the flip of a switch. His jaw tenses as he walks straight over to you and grabs your hand to pull it from your mouth before smashing his lips to yours. Much rougher than the kiss before. His lips engulf your top one as he push into you, his body going flush with yours. You let out a gasp as he pulls away before tilting his head and reconnecting your lips at a new angle. The feeling of his lips forming over your own, causes all of the blood in your body to rush to your head.

You feel your mind slip away to the feeling of Yuta. His name being painted behind your eyelids as his lips continue to move across yours, stealing all of your breath.  

Yuta releases your hand before resting his palms on your hips as his digits start to squeeze into your skin. His mouth parts slightly as the slickness of his wet muscle comes into contact with your bottom lip. He touches it slightly before you release your lips. He starts to explore your mouth, his tongue tasting of mint as it meets yours. Your hands travel up to trace into his blonde locks, still slightly wet from the rain. You yank on them slightly, causing Yuta to sigh into your mouth. The sound causing a wave of need to pulse between your legs.

As you continue to kiss Yuta hungrily, your mouths moving together, you feel his hands dip lower to squeeze the flesh of your ass. You moan from the sensation and Yuta can’t help but smirk against your lips, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to kiss you like this,” Yuta states.

You feel you entire body grow hot, no longer chilled from your previous wetness. You take your teeth and sink them into Yuta’s bottom lip, ever so softly. You pause for a moment to drag his lip outward a bit, opening your eyes to see his expression. His eyes shoot open wide as he stares back at you. His once soft chocolate brown orbs having grown dark and mysterious through your makeout session. A growl erupts from low within his throat as you release his lip from your bite. A smirk forming on your lips, just as Yuta had done earlier.

As you catch onto your breath, Yuta offers another rough squeeze of your ass and starts to pull you down the hallway. You follow him eagerly, until you end up crashing into him as he stops walking. Your thighs pressing into his skin, feeling the hardness of his bulge as it rests against your thigh. The reality of your situation arousing you to no end.  

You realize quickly that Yuta doesn’t know where to go, so you take a second to release your grip from his hair. His hands loosen from you and you slip past him to walk into your bedroom. You hear Yuta walk up behind you so you turn to face him. He stares at you as the corners of your lips turn up into a low but devilish smile.

You can’t quite figure out why, but ever since his lips started kissing your own, you have felt an overpowering sense of confidence. Perhaps it is the fact that Yuta seems to want you just as bad as you want him. Or maybe even it is just that you are finally able to break free from your own chains. Whatever the reason may be, you are power filled and eager for Yuta.

Your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, lifting it up slowly before fulling discarding it and letting it fall to the floor. Yuta’s eyes rake across your torso, just as your had done to him back in the living room. You reach your fingers behind your back to unclip your bra and Yuta gazes intently as it slides from your arms, exposing your upper half completely to him.

He walks over to you a glint in his mesmerizing eyes.

“So beautiful,” he breaths out, as his hands come up to trace along the sides of your body. The sensation foreign to you, but still amazing in every single way.

His eyes seem to look at you fondly as his hands trace you like a feather. Drawing up from the hem of your shorts to the bottom of your rib cage. You think he is going to keep going when his hands stops completely. You reach your palm up to his cheek and drag your eyes up to his face. You notice that he is looking directly behind you, and you grow confused as an evil smile forms slowly onto his lips. Yuta doesn’t look at you as his hands push into your hips, spinning you around so your back is now against his chest. Once you are turned around, you notice that you are looking straight into the large full length mirror that you have in your room. Yuta’s eyes in the mirror look at you sensually.

“Look at yourself princess, I want you to see just how irresistible you look right now. Your cheeks all flushed as your perfect nipples are so pretty and pink,” Yuta’s words come out deeply and you feel a shutter roll through you. Nothing in this world has ever sounded as sinful as that.

Ever since you first met Yuta, all those weeks ago, you always had this image of him. The sweet and charming Yuta who would do anything to help someone. He was always so caring and incapable of hurting a fly. However, now that you stand in front of him, your bare chest rising and falling rapidly as you watch his lust filled eyes travel all over your body. The words coming from him soundly nothing like they ever have before. You find that not everyone is exactly how they seem.

You continue to watch through the mirror as Yuta comes out from behind you and kneels down on the ground. A wave of excitement washes over you as he plants a soft kiss just above the waistband of your pants before hooking his fingers into them and pulling both your shorts and underwear downwards towards the floor. He helps you step out of them, before throwing them behind you somewhere. He looks up at you for a second before standing back up to his feet. You feel the wetness between your legs increase as your heat starts to ache. The need to be touched growing almost unbearable now.

Yuta comes back to his original position of standing behind you. He brings his right hand down to the back of your thigh, his large hand resting on top of your burning skin. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and studies your face. When you make no sign of uncomfortability, he lets his fingertips touch you as he draws his hand across your skin, bringing it upwards. His hand works your lower half, as he lets his lips come up to your neck where he plants one small kiss. The sensations causing your skin to tingle. You bite your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself grounded.

He continues to bring his hand upward, pulling his soft digits across your ass until they come to your lower back. He doesn’t even pause there before he draws them across your hip and towards your navel. The smirk on his face grows as a breathless sigh escapes your lips.

“Yuta,” you sigh out. His name rolling off your tongue like it was always meant to.

“Mm,” he hums softly to you, “I love the way you say my name.”

He slowly runs his hand down your lower belly and to the front of the lowest part of your abdomen. The distance his hand is from your dripping heat, causes you to let out a whine. Desperate for some kind of friction from him. You let your head lull back a bit, before it is caught on Yuta’s cheek. He takes this opportunity to let his digits trail to your heat where he draws one quick circle over your clit. A moan escaping your mouth as he does.

You let your eyes wander in the mirror, finding it incredibly arousing to see yourself being touched like this. Being able to watch as Yuta’s hands trace over yours, finally going to where you seem to need him most.

You had spent basically your entire life growing accustomed to looking at yourself through a mirror, constantly having to watch your movement and placement through new choreography and routines. You use to hate watching yourself  through those giant mirrors. You never really enjoyed it, but tonight, right now with Yuta, you find it to be the best thing in the world.

You drop your eyes to his fingers and watch as he finally lets one of them dip inside of you. The feeling causing a wave of pleasure to rack through your body.

“So wet,” he mumbles to himself.

You bring your left hand up and use it to grip at Yuta’s hip. Pulling yourself more into him as he starts to drag his finger in and out of you at a delicious pace. The sight of his finger disappearing inside of you rhythmically, has your practically cumming already.

He slips in another digit before taking his left hand to start squeezing at your breast. Twisting and pulling on your nipple.

“Uh,” you breath out, ”just like that.”

Yuta continues to slide his fingers into you at a somewhat slow pace. The feeling is amazing, but definitely not enough. You crave for him to fuck you so good. You want him so bad. Your hips start to move against Yuta’s as you yearn for more friction. Yuta seems to notice this.

“Do you need something baby girl,” Yuta questions, a shiver running down your spine.

You hum to him in response, your eyes still locked on his right hand.

“Tell me princess, what do you want?” he questions out a little sharper, his hand slowing down, causing you to groan.

“More Yuta, please,” you beg, your fingers digging into his hip.

You look up to meet his eyes and he smiles at you. A smile that is dripping in pure sin.

He doesn’t say anything before he slips in a third finger and brings his lips down to suck on the skin of your neck. You gasp at this and Yuta starts to move his fingers quickly into you.

The feeling of pleasure building in the pit of your stomach as Yuta continues to make you feel so good. So many sensations happening as you watch yourself in your mirror.

“I’m so close,” you moan out, bringing your right hand up to grip on Yuta’s bicep.

Yuta’s mouth releases from your neck with a pop and you catch the sight of your neck in the mirror. A bright purple mark has now formed over your skin.The sight of that mark pushes you completely over the edge. You moan out Yuta’s name as his fingers continue to fuck you, coaxing you through your high. With your hands still gripping onto him, Yuta’s slows down his movement but continues to hold you up as your body starts to rest more and more into him. The intensity of your orgasm being nothing like you had ever experienced before. Your breath coming out sporadically as you try and catch onto some air. After a bit, you are able to release your grip on Yuta, and he loosens his own arms so you can turn yourself around to face him. You give him a long kiss, so overcome with emotion from everything that has happened thus far. With your lips locked, you bring your hands to his pants. You slip them down for him and he kicks them away, being left only in his boxers. You release his kiss and start to guide him towards your bed.

He falls back onto it with a thud and you bring yourself to sit on his lap, your thighs on either side of his. The feeling of his bulge pressing into your heat causes your head to ache.

You bring Yuta into another kiss while you slip your hand down the front of his chest. Your fingers dragging along him like he had done to you. You bring your hand all the way to his boxers where you slip it in to grab onto his length. He sucks in a quick breath and bucks his hips upward from the friction. You smirk at this and remove your hand quickly. A defiant look spreading across his face as he looks up at you. You smile triumphantly, a feeling of power overtaking you.

You bite down on your lower lip as you start to slip his boxers down his body, both of you lifting upward for a second so you can easily slide them off his legs and discard them.

Once he is completely exposed to you, you let your eyes rake up his toned legs. The muscles of his thighs seeming to twitch with anticipation. You bring your gaze up to his length and you can’t help but bite down deeper into your bottom lip. You bring your hand back down to touch him as you release your aching lip from your teeth. The sight of his length, hot and angry, has your mouth watering. You give him a few pumps that cause his head to lull back with delectable moan slipping past his lips.

“Y/n,” he lets slip from his mouth, the sound being music to your ears.

Through the pleasure Yuta seems to snap back because he whips his head up and pushes your hand off of him quickly.

“I want you Y/n,” he slips out with such desire braided into his pitch, you moan just from the sentence.

He stares at you with big bright eyes. His chest moving just about as rapidly as yours is.

This feeling, this intense feeling of being so wanted by him, is something you will never truly be able to describe to anyone.

You turn to lean over to your night stand where you open the drawer and fish out a condom. You bring one out and hold it out to Yuta.

“Then have me,” you state out simply.

Yuta’s nose flares at your words and he grabs the condom from you, ripping it open. You watch eagerly as he rolls it onto himself easily. He leans up to give you a quick kiss before flipping you over onto your back, causing you to squeal. You look up at him as he aligns himself with you. The tip of his slick length poking at your entrance.

He starts to slowly slip himself into you and you let out a sharp moan. He continues to push into you slowly, stretching you, as the burn of it feels so undeniably good.

“Shit,” Yuta curses out. He lets out a sharp breath as he moves his arms to rest on either side of your head.

He finally pushes all the way in when he stops moving, allowing you to adjust to his size. His eyes dancing across your face as he waits.

Once he feels you are comfortable as you start to roll your hips from below him, he starts moving, snapping his hips into you with nothing shy of a dancer’s precision. The way he can move his hips with such force and flexibility has your fingers gripping tightly into the bed sheets. His pace quickens as he makes you feel so much pleasure with each thrust. His length hitting so deep inside of you that you see stars.

“So tight Y/n, god you feel so good,” Yuta breaths out. He takes one of your legs and pulls it upwards giving himself a better angle.

“Shit,” you moan out as you take your nails and wrack them up his back, scratching into his skin. He seems to enjoy this as a low groan falls from his lips at the sensation.

You notice the delicious feeling of your orgasm coming as Yuta continues to fuck you better than you ever have been before.

“I can feel how close you are baby, cum for me,” Yuta breaths out, his hips moving more erratically as he chases his own high.

You come undone with Yuta’s name dropping sweetly from your lips, as your eyes roll back in your head and your mind goes blank. Yuta soon comes after you, your tight walls feeling so good around him as he rides out his own orgasm. After a few more thrusts he slips himself out of you and disposes of the condom as you lay there in pure bliss.

He comes over and falls next to you in the bed, both of you panting heavily together.

You turn to look at him and smile when you realize that he is already looking at you. You watch as he brings one of his hands up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

He leans in to give you a quick but soft kiss.

“So I can still be your instructor right?” Yuta questions softly with a chuckle.

You smile at him, “of course, you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

You both smile to each other as Yuta pulls you into his arms. You listen intently to the sound of his heartbeat, the smile never faltering from your face.

“Well, in that case, as your instructor, I think you will need to schedule more private lessons with me,” Yuta begins, “it’s only for the best.”  

You giggle to yourself, “I guess Ten was right, you are clingy,” you sigh, your words laced with sarcasm.

Yuta slides his hand down from your back to pinch your ass, causing you to yelp out.

“Oh I can show you clingy,” Yuta says smugly. 

All you can do is smile and snuggle deeper into his chest.

[piratewithvigor]

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2059

A/N: A prize story written for @slashscowboyboots​ that I keep putting off working on until I have massive fruitopia-fueled writing bonanzas when I’m supposed to be going to sleep because I work tomorrow. Enjoy!

I can remember back to the first days we spent in the studios. Cutting demos, the silence punctuated by growling stomachs. We were hungry literally and figuratively. Daily scrapings of cash were what we ate from and some days, sleep was all we could afford for dinner. Working on the first album was much of the same, but not quite as desperate. We had a bit of an advance. Something we could eat off of, but nothing that was keeping us in the lap of luxury. We still all shared a shitty house with a carpet full of burn holes and not a single piece of furniture that didn’t boast an array of stains, dents or scrapes. But we weren’t starving for anything except success.

It’s different now. You didn’t have to look beyond the people occupying the studio to know the energy felt different. Steven was gone, to begin with. He’d struggled along with the rest of us, and now he was gone because he found something that meant more to him than we did. Success got to his mind and gave him the delusions of invincibility I had seen so many of my heroes succumb to. My mind drifted to him sometimes when nothing else was occupying it. Call it a happy place, if you will. It’s simply a corner of my mind I can go to when the reality around me doesn’t live up to my expectations of it.

The other difference is everyone’s attitudes about the albums-in-process. Our collective passions were what created the first, but this? The passion here lay in something besides music. Slash is doped up, hiding behind his curtain as if he thinks we can’t tell. He used to share this passion with Steven and me, but times are different now. Duff’s baby is in the bottle. How his liver hasn’t exploded yet is beyond me. His passion lies somewhere deep within his endless bottles, in drinking them down like he’s trying to find it. Axl? His passion lies in control, in perfection. In a way, it always has, but it’s begun to overpower him and, in turn, the rest of us. His demand for perfection drives everyone to their respective new passions as well. As for myself, I’m no saint. I’ve drank my fair share and I took part in every drug I could get my hands on. But they weren’t my passions. The struggles I went through to kick all of them were in the honour of the one thing who held control over me: the bitchy redhead who’s barking orders at everyone in the studio.

I’m trying to comply with what he’s saying and follow directives. Axl’s in no mood to hear anyone’s ideas but his own. Neither Duff nor Slash seem eager to offer any. Matt and Dizzy look more inclined to lick peanut butter off his ass than to offer constructive criticism. It’s no one’s fault the day is going this way; simply the cycle that’s been constructed during these albums. A single mistake in the morning leads to an outburst, which leads to stress, more mistakes, more anger and fear which leads to shit being taken secretly to cope, then playing gets sloppier, and eventually, something will break. It’s as certain as any law of motion.

I’m not even sure who messed up when Axl pauses us again. I started tuning him out after we did a perfect run-through and he still found problems. As much as I love him, sometimes a tune-out is the only way to cope. It’s the only way I can keep loving him. He’s in the control room, arguing with our producer. I can’t hear his exact words through the soundproofed glass, but I can see his lips moving and his body language isn’t screaming “I’m in a fantastic mood; please approach.”

It takes five or so minutes for our producer to eventually lean into his mic to be heard in the recording booth.

“Iz, Axl thinks you might be flat.”

I purse my lips and make a show of checking my tuning quickly. I’m not flat. Axl knows I know I’m not flat. He’s lashing out because something isn’t living up to his grand vision and he isn’t sure what it is. I’d have heard if someone was flat. He would have too, without having gone through an entire shouting match with the producer to wreck his voice.

Satisfied with my efforts, Axl returns to the booth and we start another take. They’re numbered, for some reason, but we’ve done so many, I don’t know why anyone would bother to keep track. It’s the same for every song. Every song on these twin albums that we thought would be a great idea. No one had anticipated just how much of a pain they would grow to be. A single album takes months. We’ve been at both of them for over a year. Almost a year and a half, by my count. A year and half of my time spent being yelled at by a man who just wishes he could yell at the universe, but instead chooses to whittle it down to who he used to consider his universe.

I’m playing again, but I don’t remember beginning. Everyone is playing, but no one looks like they’re actually here. Mentally, anyway. We’re all in our respective happy places. Axl stops us again and the room heaves a collective mental sigh. The take was as perfect as he’s going to get. For tonight, anyway. Time passes in a different way in the studio. The lack of windows and clocks ensure it. Once the exhaustion sets in, minutes seem like hours, seem like seconds. I know I ate breakfast with Axl this morning, but nothing since. I can easily bet that it’s beyond lunch time.

Once Axl’s back is turned in the control room, I pull my neck strap over my head and place the guitar on one of the stands in the corner, unplugging it in the process. The minute details of imperfection have Axl swamped sufficiently that he doesn’t notice when I leave the recording booth. Nor does he notice that I’ve left the studio.

It’s late evening when I walk outside. Full moon on the rise and everything. For the first time today, my movements aren’t planned. Sure, I’ll eventually have to return to the studio and face Axl’s wrath, but for a few moments, I’m free. It’s yet crowded enough that Axl would be a fool to walk in the streets. Moments like these are when I respect Kiss and everyone who had the same idea as them: when you become famous, your face is no longer your own. It belongs to the public to use as they please. So they created new faces to give to the public and keep the ones they were born with for themselves. Staying out of the spotlight gives me a variation of the same luxury. A fan could identify me if they tried, but a casual viewer never could like how they would be able to with Axl. Being the frontman, everyone knows his face. He’d get swamped the instant he set foot outside the studio. I’m walking with my hands shoved into my jean pockets to keep them a little warmer. It might be Californian May, but it’s still nightfall and growing colder. Not enough that I’m wishing I had something warmer on, but enough that it’s starting to grow unpleasant. 

The first time I remember my intentions for leaving the studio is when I reach a cheap diner a few blocks away. The kind that looks like it employs people who spit in your food if you order anything more complicated than a burger and a soda. In short, the perfect place for a hiding musician.

The diner is empty save for a couple of skeevy patrons dotting the bar stools and other booths. A pretty sorry dinner rush, but the food looks edible enough to spend money on. Playing safely gets me a coke and a cheeseburger served in a plastic basket, somehow both looking like the most beautiful things I’d seen all day. Grease is seeping through the parchment paper lining the basket and the coke is a little flat, but it’s quiet. No strings cutting into my fingers while I played the same two minutes of a song over and over, no screaming, no more little bubble of resentment that was building up deep within me. Just soft conversations between patrons. For the first time in almost a year and a half, it’s quiet enough that I can let myself think.

A little scrap of paper’s been metaphorically burning a hole in my pocket since we began writing for the album, but I never knew what to add to it. My original idea was to write a love song for Axl, but the frustration of having nothing to say only got me more depressed. I hadn’t even tried to put anything down since I got clean.

I uncap a pen and begin to write. Nothing in particular, just a few words that could maybe be something some day. I eventually finish the cheeseburger and start dedicating my brain power to scribbling while I sip on my flat coke. The chorus is starting to come together and the verses are well on their way when someone slides into my booth across from me. I know without looking up. A pair of aviators join my field of vision of the table, but I’m not giving Axl the satisfaction of acknowledging him yet. It’s what he wants; to have the proof that I know I wronged him. So I keep at the task at hand. If he’s able to read my handwriting upside-down, he’s not saying so. Just sitting as uncaring as I am. As soon as I leave the diner, shit is going to fly. If I’m lucky, my nose will stay intact, but I’ve never been known to be that lucky before. All I do know is that the longer I sit here, the worse I’m going to have it. It’s the little quirks like that that you pick up on after 14 years with someone.

The final verse closes up under my hand as I awkwardly slurp up the last few drops of coke hidden under semi-melted ice cubes. I fold up the scrap of paper and put it back into my pocket as I get up, leaving most of my spare change on the table as a tip. I still haven’t looked Axl in the eye, but I can tell he’s been staring me down ever since he entered. When I push open the door to exit, he follows, no more than an arm’s reach away.

The first time he touches me is when we pass an alley and he grabs my by the collar to pull me in. The jolt is strong enough to startle me, but not strong enough that it hurts. He shoves me so my back is against the grimey alley wall before socking me across the jaw.

“You… Izzy, you…” He looks like he wants to saw something else, but he punches me again instead.

“…you backstabbing son of a bitch!” He figures out what he wants to saw as he swings again, but I’m ready for him this time. Ready enough that I block his arm with mine.

“Cool it, Fireball.”

“Cool it?” He chuckles like he’s in a strange sort of delirium. “You fucking throw me under the bus to deal with those fucking dipshits and you tell me to cool it?”

“I didn’t throw you under any bus you weren’t already swan-diving towards,” I counter, keeping a firm grasp on his wrist. I’ve both thrown and received my share of punches, but it doesn’t mean I’m fixing to get any more. Especially from Axl.

“You’re as bad as they are! Are you all fucking trying to mess up and delay the albums?” He’s struggling against my grasp enough that I let go. Right now, he’s not planning on hitting me anymore. Just yell a little bit and maybe pace some before the steam will be all out. We’ll kiss and we’ll go home together and we’ll call it love when deep down, we know it’s anything but.