#That’s the kind of levels of low that we should all avoid in this fandom

[dduane]

With regards to etiquette regarding authors and fan-works: how does this work with authors who participate in fandom subsequently writing authorized spin-offs or...whatever you'd call "I don't own this IP but I have permission to publish a thing"? Obviously "don't send someone fic directly so they can choose whether or not to engage" is a good rule to follow, but if you — as an example — read a bunch of Sherlock fic and then get hired to write a Sherlock novel, is that then legally problematic?

Hmm.

Let's first sharpen up the terminology a bit, so we can all be sure what we're talking about. The owners of a given IP may not necessarily be the ones tasked with the actual business of inviting others into the property to create new material in that universe. So for convenience's sake let's just lump the actual owners and the ones managing the IP on their behalf together as "the Licensors". The person/s allowed by the licensor to execute this new art, or to hire people to do it, is/are the licensee/s. (...It's actually a little more complicated than that, but let's leave it there for the moment.)

Now, about your first question: let me head first for a situation where I've been in the past, so I can tell you what I did.

Let's say someone who's read Star Trek fanfic—not exactly vast amounts, but some, a decade or so previously—goes pro and then gets asked by the licensor, "Hey, wanna write a Star Trek novel?" When that happened to me, I let my editor know that I'd read some Trek fic in my time, but would do my best to avoid any storyline that was anything like any fic material I could remember. And for a long time I had an informal agreement with Pocket Books—noncontractual, but one I adhered to rigidly—that I would avoid reading any Trek fanfic while I was writing Trek professionally, and would only read Trek material provided to me by the publisher themselves. (This habit has persisted for a long while, as—these days in particular—there's no telling when the phone might ring...)

Back in the day, this approach worked well enough to be going on with. For one thing, Trek fanfic was then way thinner on the ground than it is now, and (being printed pretty much exclusively in paper fanzines) was far easier to avoid. It also worked because I had no desire whatsoever to take the chance of borrowing anybody else's material to begin with. Then as now, I'd have felt that would've been seriously wrong—and anyway, I had more than enough ideas of my own. ...And it worked for a third set of reasons, peculiar to Trek.

Early on, the attitude of (first Paramount, then Gulf&Western, then... who came next? Viacom? Anyway—) the corporate owners was essentially, "We own this IP; nobody should be writing fic in it without our permission; if anybody gives us grief about one of our books being like something of theirs they wrote illegally, we'll come after them with the lawyers." This attitude was markedly not Roddenberry's (at least early on...). He absolutely knew about fic, saw it at conventions, and largely seemed not to mind. This weird dichotomy of stances contributed to an atmosphere in which ficcing fans were inclined to walk softly, try to keep from being noticed by the corporate levels, and (if they engaged with Gene on the subject) keep it very low-key.

Now around the same time I was doing my first couple/few Trek works, the profic/fanfic interface started to get spikier. This was at least partly due to the problems that followed Marion Zimmer Bradley's engagement with a fan writer in her Darkover universe. At least partly as a result of this, various pros' attitudes toward people ficcing in their universes noticeably hardened—the emphasis shifting from concerns about personal preference to sharper ones centering on the writer's potential legal exposure. (Though the two kinds of issue did sometimes get tangled together.)

So that bubbled along for a good while in the background, coming more seriously to the boil when the Internet became a thing, and fic started to percolate through it in newsgroups and mailing lists and (finally) onto easily accessible web pages; and most recently, into platforms like AO3.

And this is where the question of ease of access becomes a significant part of the equation, and the picture shifts equally significantly.

I can't help but smile at the phrasing "If you—as an example—read a bunch of Sherlock fic and then get hired to write a Sherlock novel..." Because though there may be some Tumblerini sitting at the bottom of the crater Daedalus or in the depths of Valles Marineris* who don't know about this, well, I'm a Sherlock fan... and this query is pertinent.

Let's say that Messiah comes, the King returns, and the BBC commissions Sherlock S5. And secondary to that, let's say that the production staff call my agent and say, "We hear you've got this hot licensed-property writer who's done work for all these different licensors. How about you ask her if she wants to write a Sherlock novel for us?"

And now we're up against it... because there's more than one kind of tie-in novel.

One is the kind where you novelize a script. Of agreeing to that I'd have no fear, because the boundaries of such work are tightly circumscribed. The writer's job in such a situation is to render the dialogue and visuals as gracefully as possible into prose, and otherwise to avoid unnecessary flights of fancy that might jar against the writers'/producers' creative vision. ...So if that was what they wanted, I'd pretend to think about it for a couple of days, and then have the agent call them back and say "Yeah, sure, let's do it." (And then the shrieks of delight would begin. Sometimes it's useful to live this far out in the country.)

But if they wanted an original novel? A new Sherlock story?...

I would have to say no. Because my AO3 bookmarks are hip-deep in Sherlock fics, and there is no way, NO way, I could say with my hand on my heart that I was sure I wasn't going to wind up, however accidentally, borrowing or restating something I'd seen of someone else's. If I accepted that job, and then (a year, two years, five years later) someone appeared with evidence in their hands and said, "You used a situation / language that's clearly mine", I would be utterly shattered.

And would it be "legally problematic"? You bet it would. Forgive me for not spelling out all the ways it could be Bad. But even if the situation was finally resolved in the friendliest way possible for everybody concerned, the fact of what had gone wrong would hang like a shadow over every other piece of licensed work I might ever want to do. (And there probably wouldn't be a lot of those.)

So realistically speaking, the ethics of the situation would make that a challenge I wouldn't dare take. I would walk away and try my best to keep to myself the annoyance that would follow. It'd be sad, but it'd be necessary: because the lines I expect to be drawn to protect me, I must also make sure will equally protect others. It's only right.

Anyway, thanks for the question(s). Hope I've sufficiently covered the ground; and HTH.

*I almost typed that as "Valles Marinaris". Yeah, the Solar System's biggest known crevasse now suddenly full of spaghetti sauce? I almost did that. Always proof your copy three times...

[trisshawkeye]

Hey, folks writing in the Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West fandom, can we be real a second? I get that we’re all having fun writing in these made-up cultures and coming up with cool headcanons, but we should do so aware that low-technology tribal cultures exist in real life, today, as well as in not-so-distant history. The way that we write these kinds of cultures matters. No matter how different the culture from our own, we are still writing human beings, mostly adult human beings who are perfectly capable of sophisticated thought and reason regardless of technology level or scientific knowledge.

One example of this that drives me absolutely bonkers when I see it, and is really killing my enjoyment of a lot of otherwise great fic out there, is a subset of the fandom’s insistence on using animalistic language around sex and relationships in these tribal cultures and... why? Why do you think that this is appropriate? Why do you think that these people aren’t perfectly capable of talking about sex and relationships in English like adult human beings? (This isn’t a kink thing like ABO that I can just avoid either, it’s just pervasive - ‘mate’ this, ‘rutting’ that, ‘feral’ the other - can you hear yourselves? It’s dehumanising, and there’s absolutely no call for it.)

If Tenakth NPCs in-game can use the word ‘partner’, then so can you.

Just... be thoughtful about the language that you’re using for these cultures.

(Disclaimer: I’m about as White Anglo as you can get. But if this can make me cringe, how does it make others feel?)

[thesaltminesrph]

PSA: Be Upfront

Communication is important in RP.

Now, to preface, I am not going to use the really awful phrase "it's a hobby not a jobby" because this is a really sketch take on what is important to people. You can have a hobby mean a lot to you, be you a collector, a gardener, someone that builds model airplanes, a writer, an artist, etc. Those are all hobbies, and the fruits of your labor are NOT only valuable to you and others if you are paid for them. This saying implies that should you never be a published author, never have a painting sell, never do something that can be sold or have a time clock punched, it doesn’t at all matter. It’s a really discouraging thing to be telling people, quite honestly. I have multiple hobbies outside of RP. Kind of really sucks to see constantly they don’t matter because nobody pays me for what I do. I know I’m not the only one who has said this, but the majority aren’t willing to say it amongst the clamoring of ‘rp isn’t a job’ because then you get people jumping down your throat. Hear me out though! I’m not done.

“BUT I HAVE REAL LIFE!”

Yes! So do we all! We all have problems, and things to take care of. The RPC is littered with people with mental illness, neurodivergence, chronic physical illness (I hit all three categories multiple times, LUCKY ME!). Do not, I repeat, do not ever feel like you need to put RP before: bills, marriage/children/other relationships, your health. Literally, do not have your takeaway from this post be these are secondary to your hobby. They are not. Do not get evicted because you were too busy doing RP at your desk at work, that’s just plain dumb af.

You owe people decency means:

-if you can only do aesthetic posts this week because you are low on writing spoons, that’s fine

-if you had work/health/mother-in-law take over you life this week and you literally didn’t have time to log-in even though you wanted to, that’s fine

-if you are sick in bed and can’t bother to write, that’s fine

What it also means:

-dropping what was supposedly a years long ooc friendship because the other mun isn’t dropping their current muse for you and following you into a different fandom ‘because they’re now boring’ and telling them as much in a message...is shitty behavior.

-daily reblogging multiple memes that people are sending in to you, your wire, your discord, ignoring both those and messages to plot, then whining on the dash that no one wants to write with you (also known as trying to guilt trip interaction, obviously you only wanted it from one specific person not the people actively engaging you)...is shitty behavior.

-claiming you’re open for plots and memes, then only replying to the one or two people consistently for 6 months...is shitty behavior.

Again, in case it wasn’t clear- it’s your blog, it’s your life, it’s your health. That’s not in question.

HOWEVER- be upfront and give people some honesty! What do I mean by that?

If it’s feasible, post that you need a writing break, even if it’s going to be indefinite. Take as many fucking breaks as you need to for your physical and mental health to be the best they can be (I’m not going to say great, as I know what it’s like to just have a ‘good’ health day mean ‘it’s less shit than it could be’).

But if the situation is really you only want to write with these one or two people, just say so! It’s your blog, you’re allowed to decide you’re closed for plots, asks, etc. Just don’t lead people on. Don’t say something and mean something else. Don’t keep reblogging your promo and really you don’t want to write,  and you don’t plan on taking on new mutuals, and don’t plan on replying to dms or threads from anyone else.

I’ll repeat it a little differently to be sure it’s clear- you dictate your activity level and number of mutuals, when you answer asks, threads, etc. This should be at a level that is suited for you and your life, health, etc.

BUT when you engage in RP you are involving someone else’s free time with yours, and it is not fair to them to act like they do not matter. You have involved someone else. Until you disengage from them, be courteous.

I’ll give you an example. When you ask for that starter on both your dash, then DMs, and act super hyped, getting the other mun excited for it, and then they put the time and effort into writing it up and posting it for you, expecting a reply? Only for you to go and make new blogs and immediately ditch that muse without a heads-up? That’s not really fair to the other mun. You communicated you wanted to write this, you hyped them up, they spent their time and writing spoons on your starter...and then you told them other people were more exciting and a better use of your time.

“BUT I DIDN’T TELL THEM THAT!”

Okay, so you didn’t message them ‘Hey loser, your starter sucked, your muse is boring, and honestly, a different fandom is better! Bye!’ But your actions sure give that impression, and unless you communicate otherwise, it’s a shitty move.

Now yes, sometimes you genuinely forget a starter was written because you thought it was drafted and it wasn’t, dumblr is an ass and loses your draft and then you forgot it, something came up that day and bumped it from your mind, etc. NONE OF THESE ARE WHAT I AM REFERRING TO. I have ADHD, object permanence is the thing my brain does where often unless it’s directly in front of my face, it doesn’t exist, until I find it again. I’m aware these things happen, as are most muns, and we don’t mind! Hell, we usually have in our rules “hey if it’s been a hot minute and we haven’t replied to this, feel free to give us a little nudge to see if it’s been lost” because we all know between brains and dumblr’s everlasting fuckery...shit gets lost.

I’m talking about those times where you just up and leave someone hanging without communication. I’m also not saying it might even be on purpose. What I’m saying is you should consider how other muns feel when you do this, and if you cannot avoid it, at least communicate with them.

“Hey, I’m just no longer going to be writing this muse. Sorry I had you write that starter. Do you want to try something with this new one? This is where my brain is at right now.” “Hey I really can’t be online this month thanks to fill-in-the-blank but I do still want to write when I am able.” “Hey, I see you sent in that ask. I’m only interested in this one ship, and I won’t be taking on new threads, but you’re welcome to follow and maybe I’ll take on new threads later. I’m just writing with these two people right now.”

Communication is something that is a requirement in a collaborative hobby.

I know it can be scary. I know the mentality ‘well they reblogged that meme but it’s not for me, I know they said they want to plot but they don’t mean me’, but you really have to get past that when you roleplay to be fair to other people.

Spoiler alert: the examples of shitty behavior further above are what help feed this ‘that post/meme isn’t for me’ mentality, when you do those things you’re fostering people’s anxiety and rejection sensitivity...just saying.

If someone gets mad at you for communicating with them, they’re a shitty person and block them. Literally if someone has a problem with you for trying to start something, especially as mutuals, you’re losing nothing by not writing with them. Find nicer people. So don’t  be afraid to communicate you can’t write currently, you need a break, you’re only writing with these certain people. And don’t be afraid to send in the meme. I promise you, the right people appreciate courteous communication. The ones that don’t...

Again, no one is saying put your life on hold for RP, you’re never allowed to narrow your scope, you’re supposed to always have writing spoons, you need to produce five replies a day or you’re wrong, you always need to log-in to communicate you had a family emergency/depressive episode/etc.

What I am saying, is if you are capable of communicating, respect the time and energy of your fellow muns who may also be very low on spoons and free time themselves, and be honest about where you are at when it comes to taking on new threads, new asks, new partners, etc. Treat others how you want to be treated, and consider you probably wouldn’t like being on the receiving end of the behaviors I’ve described. If you need to be on the clock being paid to be a nice person...please re-evaluate.

[comicaurora]

Hey Red, sorry if anything of the shipping deal made you feel bad. We are so sorry in our reaction, you are a wonderful artist and storyteller, so really, sorry if anything I or any other people said made you sad. (This isn't a question, I just wanted to say sorry in private, cause I don't know if I did anything wrong, no need to respond either)

Nah, it's all good. This is a learning experience for me. I've only ever approached media from the fan/audience side before. I know a lot about the creation process, but the creator-audience dynamic is foreign territory for me.

Thanks to the internet, creators have a direct line to their audience (and vice versa) that didn't exist before, like, a decade ago. It's exciting, but it's also new, and the landscape hasn't really been mapped yet. Older authors internalized a degree of fire-and-forget, a policy of "don't read the reviews and god forbid don't respond to them" and restricted personal discussions of their work to interviews and conventions. The creator space and the audience space were almost entirely separate and carefully controlled. That's the context I had for the creative process before I got into the creator side of things.

The channel is an odd gray area, because we actively encourage discussion there. There's still a creator/audience barrier, but it's semipermeable. We don't typically respond to comments, but we do read them, we discuss the reception on the podcast, we're active and accessible on twitter, etc. And it's not a problem, because the purpose of the channel is to spark discussion. There's a space for us as creators in that discussion, and it produces a deceptively chill creator-audience relationship that's shockingly low in tension while still avoiding the "we, as creators, are your best IRL friends" parasociality problems.

The comic, I'm learning, is a whole different animal. It's not like the channel, in that there's no direct communication from me to the audience - I'm not putting my face on the page and lecturing you directly - so it doesn't feel like a conversation or a presentation, it feels like a story. My presence on the channel is active and present; my presence in the comic is behind-the-scenes only. In this context, unlike the channel, having a direct line between the audience and the creator feels odd because it doesn't fit with the art itself. It's like the channel is sort of an extension of me and Blue, but the comic isn't an extension of me, it's a thing I'm creating.

I don't know how close or how distant I should be with the audience. I'm excited to talk about the creative process and I get a mischievous glee out of dropping hints about future events, but it's becoming increasingly clear that I can't be as present for the comic audience as I am for the channel audience. And it's tricky and kind of frustrating, because some of the audience says they want me to be more present and answer more stuff, but… they don't actually want that. It freaks them out when they suddenly think maybe I can see what they're saying or theorizing. There's an inner conflict between "it'd be so cool to have Red tell us more stuff and answer all our questions" and "oh fuck I don't want Red to see my fanart/edits/critical analysis/memes/nsfw jokes" etc etc.

Audiences need their own spaces where they can discuss and analyze media without the creator looming ominously. I know how much I freak out when someone @'s the creator of a show I've been discussing on Twitter and links them my video. Even if they like it, it's terrifying and awkward. I didn't do that analysis for the benefit of the creator, I did it for the audience and the creatives in the audience who are learning from what that creator made. If I were analyzing for the creator's benefit, I'd have different things to say - and more importantly, since I know the basic courtesy of art criticism, I wouldn't do that to them unless they asked!

On some level I like feeling immersed in your discussions, seeing how people are responding to the story and what is and isn't working as I'd hoped. It's a dream to be able to have this story out there and to see other people reveling in it as much as I do. But on another level I can't engage with it the same way because I know the story, and my presence in your spaces disrupts your ability to discuss it. It's kind of sad. I've felt very at-home approaching media from an analytical fandom standpoint, but it's becoming increasingly clear that I can't do that with my own work.

[calebdumes]

Hera lives off of ration bars. Kanan doesn't really know how to cook, but is determined to learn in order to avoid eating a ration bar ever again.

Kanan would be a meal prepper.

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: n/r

word count: 1.6k

~

One thing that Kanan learned quickly after joining the Ghost's crew was, Hera had no taste buds. That had to be the only explanation as to why she could exist on ration bars alone. Literally. There was no other source of food to be found on the freighter and Kanan had looked. He scoured every nook and cranny of the ship looking for something, anything, that wasn't those horrible processed bricks. After finding the third box of the food supplements in storage Kanan was starting to feel a little desperate. Surely, surely, Hera ate actual real food. She had to. 

"They cost less and keep longer than fresh food." Hera had explained. 

Kanan stared at her dumbly. "But what about taste?"

"What about it?"

"Don't you want your food to actually taste like something?"

Hera shrugged, nonplussed. "I think they taste fine." 

"You're kidding right?" he said in disbelief. "Please tell me you're kidding?"

"Why would I kid about this?" she bit down on a bar, the resounding crunch sounding like a rockfall. "It's just food. Besides, fuel for the Ghost isn't exactly cheap." she waved the bar in front of his face. "So we compromise." 

Kanan could compromise on a lot of things. 

Food wasn't one of them. 

Kanan's aversion to ration bars went beyond the lack of taste and the potential for losing a tooth. Oh he'd eat one if he was in a pinch but after the fifth or sixth ration bar exclusive meal, the air would start to smell faintly of blaster fire and the bitter taste of ash would be heavy on his tongue.  Life on the front lines wasn't easy and it was difficult to make real food when you were fighting off battle droids. 

No, Kanan would compromise on whatever he had to if it meant that he could have actual food. 

And if it was cost she was worried about, well Kanan had just the thing to ease her mind.

"This shouldn't take long." Hera said as she powered down the Ghost's engines, the walls of the spaceport surrounding them. "Just a simple intel exchange and we should be on our way."

"You want me to come with you?" Kanan asked, going through the post flight checklist. 

"I'll be fine." she said lightly. "I've met with this contact several times before."

"If you're sure."

Hera smiled. "I am. But thank you though. You could check out the market while you wait if you don't want to stay on the Ghost." she suggested before climbing down the latter into the hold. Kanan waited in the cockpit, watching as she disappeared into the station before moving. He grabbed a handful of credits and a bag before sliding down into the hold.  

The market was brimming with beings from all walks of life, the air thick with the smell of cooking meat and familiar spices. Kanan's stomach rumbled. He made his way through the throng of people looking for his ingredients, stopping momentarily to buy himself a ronto wrapper, savoring the spicy meat and warm fluffy bread - a far cry from the bricks he had been forced to eat the past week.  

Kanan wasn't the greatest of cooks in the galaxy but he was at least passable. He could make food that tasted reasonably good and only slightly burnt. Cooking wasn't really a skill the Order bothered to teach its students, there was a lot they didn't bother to teach, but it was one he had to learn out of necessity. And even before, in the quiet lulls between battles Master Billaba would show him how to make simple food with whatever planet they were on had to offer. In fact it was one of her recipes that he was using to show Hera that food could be cheap and taste good if you knew how to work it.

He was just putting on the final touches when Hera came back, the doors to the galley sliding open to reveal her curious face.

"What's that smell?" she asked, taking a seat at the small table bolted to the floor. 

"That," Kanan set a steaming bowl of stew down in front of her with flourish, "Is food. Real food."

Hera looked at it warily before taking the spoon he held out to her. She dragged the utensil through the creamy broth, picking through the chunks of tubers and nerf meat before bringing it to her lips. 

Kanan waited, watching as her eyes grew wide. "Kanan, what is it?" she asked, her cheeks punched out, full of stew.

"I don't actually know the name for it." he said sitting down across from her with his own bowl. "My Mast - someone I knew used to make it for me a lot. Or some version of it at least. She never did write it down."

"It's so good." she said between bites. Kanan could feel the heat rise in his cheeks and burn across the tips of his ears from the praise. Hera devoured her food making tiny little moans that had no place in a galley. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to focus on his food.

Hera was a mystery to him. He still couldn't figure out what it was about her that made him want to give up his life as a drifter, bouncing from one planet to the next, one job to the other without caring about anyone but himself. She was beautiful, that wasn't a question, but there was more to it than that; she had some kind of spark that drew him in. 

She was like a puzzle, infinitely perplexing yet always managing to stump him just when he thought he had her figured out. Hera wasn't that much younger than him but had a confidence that someone her age rarely had. She knew who she was and what she wanted and wasn't about to let anything get her in way - including him. 

Oddly enough, Kanan found himself to be okay with that. His feelings for her would dim over time, he could adjust. Besides, the future was hardly set in stone and if she needed time, Kanan would gladly wait. 

She was worth it. 

"Kanan did you hear me?" Hera asked, rapping her spoon on her bowl. 

"What?" he blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. 

"I asked, where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Oh," He rubbed the back of his neck. "I picked some things up here and there. But the most important thing is," Kanan leveled her pointed look. "Everything I used to make that costs less than a container of ration bars."

Hera rolled her eyes ."You're just saying that to get me to stop buying them."

"I'm serious! You can find cheap, fresh food in just about every spaceport in the galaxy if you know where to look."

"And let me guess, you know?"

Kanan shrugged. "I do. I've been out on my own a lot longer than you have. I've picked up some things here and there." He repeated. "And with stuff like this, you can make a big batch and freeze it for later. Costs less to buy, lasts long, and most importantly, tastes better."

Hera arched a brow, unconvinced. 

Resisting a sigh, he tried a different approach and took her hands into his. "Let me prove it to you. Let me cook for the next few weeks and we'll compare costs. Sounds like a plan?"

Hera's silence dragged out and for one tense minute Kanan was afraid he was going to be stuck eating ration bars until he died. But Hera gave his fingers a little squeeze before withdrawing them from his grip. 

"Fine." she relented. " One week. And if it turns out to be less like you say, I'll lay off the ration bars."

Kanan gave her a blinding smile. "I won't let you down Captain."

A blush spread across her face, heat pooling in his belly at the sight. "I certainly hope not."

.

"Remember when you use to live off ration bars?" Kanan asked, his voice low. Hera was pressed into his side, resting her head against his shoulder while the kids were no doubt making a mess in the galley. 

She snorted, her chest rumbling with a hearty chuckle. "Don't remind me."

Kanan scratched at his scar on his face absentmindedly. “I still can’t believe that was your plan.” 

Hera  pinched his arm. “I was young, first time being out on my own. What else was I going to do?”

Kanan’s response was cut off by a loud clatter of dishes from the galley, followed by harsh whispers. 

“Do I want to know what’s going on?” He felt her lean forward. 

“No you do not but when you get stuck cleaning the galley  I just want you to remember, this was your idea.” 

Kanan shrugged. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” The kids had been in charge of weekly meal prep before, so he wasn’t too worried. Besides, no mess could possibly top the first Ezra had taken a stab of making the food for the week.

“You say that now.” 

Kanan hummed, listening to the clatter in the galley. He remembered the days when that room was mostly silent, when the only sounds echoing off the durasteel walls was the crunch of ration bar. 

“Ration bars.” he chucked fondly at the memory. 

Hera pushed at his shoulder with a tisk but he could hear her smile. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up smart guy. See where that gets you tonight.”

His mouth snapped shut. Hera patted his cheek. “That’s what I thought.”

Kanan smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m just glad you came to see things my way.”

Hera leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I would have figured it out eventually.” 

“Of course dear.”

[a-lil-perspective]

I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

[kris-p-banana-bread]

Here DOAFP fandom, have some organic, locally-sourced, home-grown pain. This is basically just me, a scarred older sibling, projecting on Bobby, another scarred older sibling. I really reached into my post-loss psyche for this, so I hope you enjoy the headcanons and meta (AKA I hope you shed at least one tear).

It won’t let me link it here so the post that inspired this is under the read more at the bottom ✨

- When I first watched doafp, I couldn't understand Elena's aversion to Sam becoming a prominent figure in her mom's and her life. Now I understand it almost too perfectly. There was never supposed to be someone after Robert. He and Gabi were deeply in love and happy. Robert was it; he was the first and true love of Gabi's life. Sam showing up probably felt like a huge and utterly disrespectful slap in the face of Robert's memory, because he wasn't even supposed to be there. I don't know if that's as eloquent as I wish it was, or if it makes sense, and it probably sounds really mean to Sam, but it's not even really about him. It was always supposed to be Robert; Sam hasn’t earned the right to be apart of or associated with her family

- After Robert dies, Gabi and Bobby make it a habit to find and keep photos and recordings/videos of Robert, even if the latter only has him saying one sentence. They won't make Elena join them for the search, but after they find some of those old audios of Robert, they'll sometimes play them back for little Elena

- Bobby put up the keep out sign (I credit this to a few other blogs for discussing this tho) because that's where he would cry sometimes. He actually used to be pretty close with Elena, but after he put up that sign and started distancing himself from them a bit so they wouldn't see the times he cracked, he got a little more short and jaded with her. It's that, plus just growing into a teenager and stuff. And I'm not saying that he and Elena have a bad relationship, but he's become more snappy and has more walls up than he used to

- Sometimes Elena feels bad because she doesn't always remember her dad's voice. She was pretty young when he died, so even though she recalls it a bit, and the recordings help, it's been a while since she's talked to him in person, so of course she doesn't quite remember what it's like to actually talk to Robert and she's forgotten some of his mannerisms. She likes to think she's all done (she marked the stages down in her grief journal after all) but grief isn't linear or all that rational, so it hits her hard sometimes

- I keep reading as an action close to my heart because that's a strong bond me and my mom shared. She would rec books to me, and we would joke and talk about them, or she would hint to some future event and then refuse to tell me until I caught up to that part. So Elena and Bobby do something similar in their grief. Elena has writing and words, because that's something Robert loved if I remember correctly (but if I’m not and that’s not canon, then I now declare it so) and Bobby has tennis. But besides tennis (I sent a couple anons to @freshlybakedfandoms about it but I'm not sure where she went) Bobby also was taught to play guitar by Robert (I liken it to Devi Vishwakumar and her harp) so when he misses his dad or is just sad, he'll take out his dad's old acoustic and strum

- (This next one is something I also think a lot about so this is pretty much 98% projection) Bobby thinks sometimes about the fact that he was never able to come out to his dad. He hadn't really started growing into that part of himself yet, and he never got to show it to his father. He wonders what he would have thought of him. Would he be angry? Would he dismiss him and say it was just a phase? Bobby didn't think so, but a little part of him insisted that you could never be too sure. After he comes out, Gabi and Cami assure him that Robert would've been so proud of him and would've loved him regardless (Since we know virtually nothing about him, I maintain that Robert was one of those dads who teases their kid relentlessly about their crushes and I think he would've done that with Bobby and eventually Elena)

- When Elena's quince rolls around (if she chooses to have one of course), Sam dances with her during the father-daughter dance. A part of her still hurts, still aches and wishes that Robert were dancing with her too; still knows on some fundamental level that he and Gabi had planned for this day, but he had simply never made it. But she's known Sam long enough that she feels comfortable here. Nobody can replace Robert, but Sam is her family, and it feels right like this.

- I might do some more research and deliberate, but for the moment I'm saying that Robert had cancer, I’m thinking along the lines of colon. My mom was terminal, but idk if I should make Robert terminal? Maybe towards the end. Or maybe he was diagnosed as incurable early on but Gabi kept it from the kids because, tbh, being told your parent is balancing on that kind of edge is traumatic for them. So anyways, I’m going on that assumption for this last point, and I’ll see if I can recover some of my old knowledge and talk about technical stuff later if anybody would like to hear it

- Elena and Bobby were both pretty young. Bobby understood about PET scans and tests somewhat, and knew generally what different answers from doctors meant. Elena mainly just understood what was happening by reading her parents' and brother's expressions when getting lab results in from the doctor. They both remember on some level what it was like when Gabi would leave the kids with Cami and take Robert out to the car (later she would have to help him) and they would all feel like they were holding their breath until they got back and confirmed that everything was ok (and later, the little shocks of fear when the answers were no longer as positive and there was more apprehension and risks. After all, cancer doesn’t deal in absolutes)

- Bobby can still remember Robert when he had to stop walking around a lot. He still remembers the phone call that Cami got from his mom, saying that something had gone wrong, and if this last treatment didn’t work, he wouldn’t have much time before he passed. Still remembers Cami rushing into a room when she got that call, and trying to hide what was happening until Gabi could get home and explain it; but Bobby was a sharp kid believe it or not. He heard about the treatment, heard Cami crying. He still had hope... but when Robert came home in a gurney, when he could barely stay awake sometimes, when his voice was quiet and his skin was a little jaundiced, Bobby felt incredibly empty. But Robert always had a smile for his wife and his beautiful kids, even if it was small and very tired, his eyes still crinkled the same. He always had a smile; right up until they had to say goodnight and get some sleep one night. And then... he passed.

- After he passed, the Cañero-Reeds needed help, and a lot of Gabi’s coworkers would bring food or materials if they were running low. Cami and Danielle would babysit and would distract the kids when Gabi needed a good cry.

- Like you’d imagine, and because of what is sort of implied in canon and in my own head, the kids dealt with it in different ways. Bobby put up that sign, and withdrew. He wasn’t awful, but his patience with certain people got a bit shorter and he was a bit quieter. And he was a really good helper when he had the energy and he cared deeply, but he would sometimes get physically and emotionally exhausted after helping Gabi/Elena/Cami/anybody else with something and would go into his room or mentally tap out to recharge. He took comfort in things that seemed natural and that he sometimes took for granted before, like video games and skateboarding (hehe bobby skateboards. Anybody second me on this?) and clothes etc... and other stuff. A lot of materialistic things or experiences that he would skip out on before. But they bring normalcy back to his life now so he loves them for that.

- Bobby doesn’t wanna think about big themes or anything anymore, which I can’t remember but I think it was Vi (freshlybakedfandoms, again, idk where she is and I hope she’s ok) who said he was a math and science person and I think that as much as that could transfer over to those subjects as well, it’s much harder to avoid existential and emotional themes in English and History class and Bobby doesn’t like it as much as Elena does for that reason. He had to live with the back and forth of his dad’s treatments and tests, so math and science is comforting because it’s more concrete (There could be a million arguments for why he would distrust math and science because of his dad’s passing though, I realize) Ultimately, though, it reminds him of Robert too much.

- On the other hand, after a period of shock and confusion, Elena threw herself into new things. First it was a grief journal, to make sure she was going through the motions. Then she read a lot, and when she felt too alone or like she wasn’t doing enough, like she was stagnant, she’d just find something to focus and persevere on again. That feels like her personality type to me; something is wrong so let’s fix it right away. But that could also transfer sort of negatively into “Something feels off or I’m very sad, let’s get this thing done and be productive so we can put off having to confront that but at least we get work out of it” but I could be entirely wrong (this is based off some of my family members and how they dealt with the loss.) And Elena throws herself into history and english because her dad loved it, and she wants to remember more of him. Because she believes words have power and history is a lesson and that’s incredibly interesting for her

[plutoswrath]

i’m sorry to annoy you with this again. i just look up to your kpop mixed with astrology content. but lucas’s neptune contact with his mc is going to annoy the shit out of me until this is fixed. the cloudiness that neptune brings to his public image is something that i think possibly fuels these situations further. false accusations and mixed perceptions based off of them is exactly what makes these scandals to continue on and on. and i’m sick of it. both sides ignore what the other is saying and it gets nowhere. neptune, the malefic bastard.

Hello! I saw your recent asks and I appreciate your words regarding my content, thank you so much for the kind words! <3

I will touch on astrolgy under the cut, but before this happens, I want to leave a few words. There's a reason why I didn't answer the previous questions I received (not only yours op) regarding the Lucas situation so far. For several reasons I didn't want to feed into any sort of (perceived) sensationalism in regards to the Lucas situation, even though I'd really love to look at the situation from an astrological point of view. That people are divided on this topic is to be expected, but I think the way it has been handled by majority so far is very bad. I really want to elaborate on my reasoning why we should rethink the way we talk about/represent the Lucas situation right now, but as this topic is very kpop specific everything will be under the cut.

My reasoning for avoiding any questions about it until now:

1. People already don't take the situation seriously enough: Regardless of what your standpoint is, I'd like for people to consider looking at it from a more critical point of view for a second: The allegations are not about him being exposed as ‘just a f-boy’ as some people make it out to be, they are more serious than that. Lucas allegedly manipulated and used these women for his own emotional/sexual/financial needs and ego boost. The fact that he has money and allegedly still used other people to provide financially for him just demonstrates the power play underneath it all. He abused his position of power as an idol, the power dynamics between him and fans who idolize him are plain and simple just completely off. Please think about the fact, that he allegedly decided who to date on at fansigns. This alone gives no security to any fans that want to attend fansigns in the future. TW SV: he also talked one of these women into having sex with him + doing it unprotected, which is not only emotionally/sexually manipulative/coercive and can possibly be traumatic for them but also heightens the risk for transfering STD's as END TW he was supposedly seeing people at the same time/cheating. In general, the behavior he gets accused of leaves trauma and is abuse, to be more specific abuse of power on multiple levels and his social position makes it just easier to continue abusing that power. As you've mentioned yourself op, there is a huge back and forth about the allegations, and I know people like to take situations like the one of Taeyong as an example to justify that not every public apology is real and that allegations turn out to be false years later, but I believe it's different this time and that the allegations that came forward were real. Even his cbar closed, a fanbase that works closely with Label V (!), that alone shows that there is 'at least' some truth to the story, or else his hardcore fanbase wouldn't have decided to turn their back on him in matters of just days. Also, all the 'jokes' and the portrayal of 'juicy gossip' people make about the situation just downplays and ridicules the possible traumatic experiences of the people that were hurt by his actions. If anyone decides to not believe these allegations until SM gives a more specific statement, that's fine, but please do so without making fun of the people who were victims of his behavior, as there is already little to no sympathy for them online. It makes it just way harder for any survivors in the future to speak out on their experience. People say it's 'nothing illegal, just morally wrong' but given the fact that he is also a person in power, the line between 'just' morally wrong and illegal can be very thin in some cases. And please overthink arguments such as: 'this is typical boy behavior for someone in his 20's'/ 'he's just an f-boy' or 'boys will be boys' because they are deeply misogynistic and we shouldn't normalize behavior like that, thus making the root of the problem actually way deeper than most people think.

2. WayV's future: This mainly goes for people who are fans of WayV. I know not everyone probably likes to hear this, but another thing why wild speculations, sensationalism or even possible defence about this situation should be kept on the low is WayV's career. I want to be honest here, but I'm scared for their future, their comeback for october has been cancelled for now and they are put on a hiatus for several months as far as I know. They were on a good path of gaining more and more recognition and establishing themselves even better as a c-pop group, but now Luca's reputation in China (their target audience) is as good as gone and that pulls all of WayV down to rock bottom with him. People really need to try seeing the story out of the eyes of the korean and especially chinese fans as well, their perception of the allegations (especially after the Kris Wu situation!) are way different and more serious than the ones of i-fans and i-fans have to accept that. Also, we all know how companies (especially SM) handle these type of situations: keep the people on the low till the storm has calmed down. But will the storm ever calm down for Lucas when his public image is basically destroyed, and thus WayV as well? What I want people to understand is that this whole situation affects WayV and their career directly, actually on the biggest scale possible. All the work so far is at risk to be for good and I think a lot of fans tend to forget that, things look especially critical for HenXiaoYanKun if WayV would be to continue/redebute/fall apart. It doesn't matter if Lucas talking bad about the members/the companies/shows he works with/for was real or not in the end, because unfortunately damage is already done, WayV's image (WayV= family) is already tarnished and WayV as a group will suffer from this. You summed it up with malefic Neptune the best actually: We all don't know the full confirmed truth about the situation and will most likely never know it. (small astro insight here as well, but part of Neptune is to accept fantasy for what it is: fantasy, and thus turn to cold reality when you're in too deep)

3. What O'd advice the fandom to do right now: Regardless of your opinion on the situation, what we as a fandom can do best right now is staying on the low, wait things out, and stop adding more fire to the situation with our actions and wait how the situation actually developes, since a) we can not fasten the process and b) a lot of rumors, false information and unnecessary details get exposed to mudd the waters and to discredit the statement of the victims as well. I've seen some strong reactions from both sides, but as someone who's a big fan of nct in general I really just want to say that part of the fandom throwing a fit on the internet leads basically to nothing, it actually only reflects even worse on nctzens/weshennies and thus on WayV's (and also NCT as whole) image as well. Things right now are handled internal, not extern. Whatever gets through to the public will be half of the story anyway. A lot of people seem to forget, that we talk about SM and all they care for right now is saving themselves economically (think about the domino effect this situation has on the whole group/company), so we will have to see what their final decision is going to be, if anything will happen at all. For now, be patient, wait and see. Last words: It's okay to feel hurt/confused/angry/drained. Even though most of us are aware that we dont know any celebrity's character, it's still hard to swallow and to digest because you were a fan of that artist. Let it take time and vent. Take a break from it if it gets too much! Talking about it to process your emotions better is okay and very valid, but keep in mind that you should not worsen the situation by doing so - it's already absolute chaos.

Also: This statement is by no means a direct attack to anyone or me trying to push my opinion onto you, just my two cents in how to handle the situation best right now, because our hands are basically tied. Also: agree to disagree. If you don't like that I side with the victims (unless there is an official statement that Lucas is proven not guilty, which I doubt, unfortunately) then so be it, but don't start a war in my inbox for our opinions differing.

-------

Now, to astrology:

Disclaimer: This analysis will not be very light-hearted, but remember that it's just a theory and not me trying to confirm anything!

First of all op, sorry for just answering you know, but I neded some time to think through how to adress this without adding to the fire with my astrological analysis! Boy, does the birth time fit the shoe right now. To be fair as I did my short rising sign analysis about him recently, I cancelled out every other fire rising except for Leo, because I got stuck on the ego part a bit. Anything for me made sense, as long as it highlights his ego, which by itself doesn't have to be a bad thing automatically, but there's always two sides of the coin as we all know.

I looked into the transits the past week and added a few asteroids/mathematical points as well. An anon before pointed to the full moon happening in his tenth house, conjunct his sun, etc. (I deleted the ask because I didn't know what was going on at that time and thought it was just the 'usual' rumors that once in a while get spread around, but after looking more into it I decided this was not the right time to stirr the pot in any kind of way or treat it as funny, hot gos). But yeah a full Moon in Aquarius happening in his 10th house AND on top of that Saturn in Aquarius, conjuncting that Moon and his natal Uranus in the 10th! Talk about destrcution of any stable foundation and a change in a public image! Honestly, looking at astrologically the way his public image just got radically destroyed over night, with Saturn and the Moon having been in a conjunction (in his chart it was in the 10th house) is kinda eery even. Talk about collective consciousness - not only exposing quiet literally the feelings of the collective, but also doing so in the favor of others and gaining collective emotional consciousness. Take this with a grain of salt (!), because we're still in a tense situation, but I'm tapping into the darker, unfriendlier side of astrology now. Taking his confirmed birth time, he has Nessus in Sagittarius in his 8th house and as I saw that I could feel myself shifting into the surprised pikachu face. I am not saying that this prooves the allegations whatsoever, but as you seemed to be very interested in anaylzing the case in-depth as well, the allegations fit his Nessus - jumping from partner to partner, carelessness (regarding physical intimacy as well), making people share all their ressources with him/finacial gain, and basically the whole jist of gaining control/being in a power position in intimate connections. Keep in mind that this is only one interpretation of Nessus though, Nessus can also show the complete opposite to someone 'turning to their dark side'. On top of that, his Nessus was conjunct transit Phollus the past week, so if anything, we can see that a large event triggered him to 'open his eyes' and face anything of an 'obstacle' that hinders him from seeing the 'truth' to a larger picture and his own nature/destiny. Pholus can symbolize change that will alter your perception of the responsibility you have for yourself and others.

But my latest new interest with these two asteroids aside (asteroids just add a little more nuance to a situation after all), I want to touch on Lilith too, since you (op) have mentioned Lilith before in one of your asks!

He has his Lilith exactly conjunct his Descendant when we consider his confirmed birth time. What happened just now can be seen as 'backfiring' of his actions, either Lilith embodying the women who expose him now for his 'inappropriate' behavior, but also simply fans shaming him now for his alleged manipulative/imoral behavior, especially shaming him about who he chose to date and how. Next to that, you've mentioned Lilith opposite Moon and it just makes me think about him possibly feeling very indecisive and potentially in denial about what he actually needs to be fulfilled in order to be emotionally happy and thus leading to him appearing to have this 'second, dark side' to him now. BML is not necessarily opposite the Moon in my opinion, it's just the side of the subconscious we don't really like to deal with and all we're told not to express and desire because it can be conflicting in the eyes of others (thus BML also leading to a lot of recklessness on the negative side). I think if we take the allegations into consideration, regardless of how much of it is true of it, it can be a good example what happens, when an opposition gets out of balance, as it also manifests outwardly a lot! Lilith shows in his 'double life' aka what he allegedly did with fans. Lilith wanted an outlet and found one by working behind the scenes. If we take in his supposed Taurus rising, which his Lilith is in an exact opposition with, it's a good example of what can lurk underneath the surface.

And of course, last but not least, Neptune and Sun conjunct his MC. People are quiet literally blinded by him more than they would like to think. Also: Lucas was always known for his 'flirty & charismatic' nature, this is another reason why people think we shouldn't be surprised he 'turns out to be like that in real life'. I'm not analyzing this argument right now, but what I think is very interesting is how Sun conjunct MC literally ties a good amount of their personality to their career - they want to be accepted and shine for their personality/big part of their individuality. Idols play a role, no matter how transparent they appear to us, but it's really funny how this 'image' of him melts almost seemingly with parts of his personality (almost af if you were to quiet literally sell your self) and as you've mentioned: Neptune only adds to that, unfortunately.

[fanfictiondreamscape]

The Ouran Academy Deviant

Request: if not already requested...May I request Bad Reputation for Haruhi from Ohshc x Female reader? 

Title: The Ouran Academy Deviant

Genre: songfic~, a lil comedic (just a little bit - if you squint you might see it), and slightly romantic. still very floofy tho, WOO. 

Pairing: Haruhi Fujioka x Fem! Reader

Notes: The influx of Ouran requests that have flown in is making me melt, seriously. Dead fandoms are really becoming my primary writing topics now, aren’t they? Either way, I love this request and feel like this could go in so many new directions that mimic total bbe - and the pairing just makes everything feel so much more powerful. Like, Haruhi and a total troublemaker? YES. 

This is extremely long, as well, so prepare to read something that is (arguably) longer than anything else in this vein that I have written. 

Also, I felt like this would work amazingly in one-shot form, and I took some slight liberties. That being said, proceed with caution. The only thing I would warn you about is vulgar language! 

Below the cut! 

Haruhi Fujioka and (L/n) (Y/n), the odd couple of Ouran Academy. One is a scholarship student, in a club, with a clean track record. She comes off as kind, intelligent, respectable to the utmost level - especially so for dealing with things in the particular way that she does. 

(Y/n), on the other hand? She skips school, could care less about her grades, and decides to forego the uniform whenever she does go to school. She sneaks off to do very unladylike things, comes off as incredibly intimidating, and appears to be someone rewarded by fear rather than respect.

The two could not be more different, but the one thing that drove them together was simple: Tamaki. 

(Y/n)’s older cousin was the one that dragged her to school that day, he was the one that introduced her to the club after a tiring day at school that consisted of her slacking off in class and skipping in the academy bathrooms, he was the one that provided an easy form of detention for her when she got penalized by the staff. 

During the time that she was cleaning and helping in club duties, she had run into Haruhi in her work, and despite what she had said, Haruhi still helped her. “I don’t give a damn, you’re a host aren’t you? Go woo some chicks over on those couches.”

Normally, that would’ve been the end of things. Which makes the next events more shocking.

...

Tamaki had noticed his cousin and his newly-appointed apprentice working together, and in their battle of wits and capabilities, he also picked up on their chemistry. From then on, he was driven to make the two a couple. Though, his methods are extremely unconventional.

One random day, he had invited (Y/n) to his mansion, dragged her to his bedroom and shared a talk with her. She had initially come off as disinterested, but his attitude made her open a bit more. 

“Sooo, my dearest cousin, I have a proposition for you!” he had declared. (Y/n)’s interest was peaked, but a part of her advised her to avoid asking. That side lost to her curiousity.

“And what may that be, because if it so happens to be one of your over-the-top plans to try and get me to drag my ass to school I’m leaving.” Tamaki played the dramatics before getting to the point. 

“Oh, dear (Y/n), it is nothing of the sort. It is a resolution to a problem of yours, though.” 

The (h/c) raised an eyebrow, leaning in and nodding. “Go on.” 

The blonde let a small smirk settle on his face, and when he had announced his idea to her, she jumped up and was already on her way to leave the room. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Hear me out, please!” She paused, took in a deep breath and rolled her eyes before allowing herself to continue speaking. (Y/n) didn’t need this amount of annoyance before she left to wreak more havoc, but she also didn’t want to send the only person that cared enough to help her to his emo corner. 

“What if I say yes to this? What’s the catch gonna be? I’m not jumping from Class-C to Class-A just so you can play the part of the savior.”

“Well, first of all: you wouldn’t be bored. You have already shown that you are highly intelligent, you just need the proper amount of stimulation. You can get there!” She paused, then nodded, and gestured for Tamaki to continue. “Second of all: you need something to do during school other than vandalize the alley walls and bathroom stalls. You’re extremely pretty, and-”

“And I’m going.”

“Wait! Let me finish, I promise that you won’t absolutely hate it,” he pleaded. (Y/n) was still hesitant to go along with his plan, but again - don’t want to send the only person that cared enough to help her to his emo corner. 

“Fine, but make it quick.”

Cue the sparkling eyes. 

“Thank you! Anyway, I think you should join the Host Club. We can open it up to girls that want to appeal, and this would make your record look better for the future! After all, you want to succeed, right?” 

With a sigh, (Y/n) walked back to the bed and sat down. She had to debate the idea - she did want to do well following high school, and she did know that the way she was going halfway through the year wouldn’t be good for doing just that. Tamaki was right to advise her of this, but she didn’t want any obligations tying her down for the rest of her high school career. 

Tamaki was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watched his rough-and-tumble cousin run the benefits and drawbacks in her head. His lips were pursed and his hands were drawn to his chest tightly, gripped with anticipation. 

“I’ll think about it. You are right, I’ll give you that, but the likelihood that things would be that easy right now is low,” she answered calmly. She had a tone of seriousness as she spoke, and it was laced with fear. 

He had heard the way that she went about her response, and while he was admittedly a little disappointed that she wasn’t jumping for joy at his idea, he also knew that she didn’t work like that and didn’t intend to work like that. This was the best possible scenario for an answer that he could get, and that thought excited him. 

“You won’t regret it, I promise! Let me know after you think it through, I can get you prepared and set quickly!” (Y/n) nodded hesitantly, and then got up to leave. 

“I’m gonna leave, but I have a lot to think about, now...” she paused, a small flurry of red crossing over her face at the thought of what she was about to say next. ‘Thanks’ wasn’t a word in her dictionary, but now? It may have to be. 

“...Thanks, Tamaki.” 

His head darted up at her figure as he leapt up with joy and hugged her tightly. He had also lifted her up and managed to spin her around before she kicked him in the shin and got dropped. When Tamaki hit the floor gripping his leg, she was already walking down the hall and alerting the maids of her departure. 

...

Now, she sat in Class-A in her second year. The twins were sat behind her and didn’t bother trying to prank her, no one in class was brave enough to stand up to her or correct her when she exhibited some unladylike behavior in class, and some guys that were deemed crazy by the school populace attended the host club to chat with the new ‘Wild’ type. (Following Mori and Honey-senpai’s graduation, of course) 

(Sad boi hours-) 

She was surprisingly popular according to the polls that Kyoya had taken, and when taking this into consideration, she became the go-to for information from the club’s king himself. 

Despite Tamaki’s initial intentions, though, she had only become more quiet and focused on causing more harm outside of school hours. 

On multiple occasions, she had gone to the bathrooms and decided to tag the windows with an ‘X’ after covering them in black paint. She had also gone outside to rearrange what she could in the garden after blocking any cameras that would pick up her actions. 

Safe to say, she still maintained the reputation that she had achieved in her first year attending. 

Her antics were also upped by a new friendship with the twins. She had begun to teach them ways around the school and new ideas for pranks, some that would push the school regulations harshly, and joined them in their endeavors to terrorize certain students that would do certain things to them or someone they cared about. 

Otherwise, Tamaki was happy to see another facet of his plan come alive - Haruhi and (Y/n). The two were beginning to get along very well, very quick. It seemed as if the new year and new experiences lit a fire under the (h/c)’s ass, and she had begun to talk more. At least, to people she knew wouldn’t wimp out due to her words and actions. 

The change had made the blonde leap out of happiness, the observation that his most treasured cousin was beginning to grow up and become a better person - at a slow pace, but still, there’s improvement. 

“(Y/n), you’ve got some customers waiting for you,” Kyoya informed her, making said female groan in frustration. 

“They only come here to try and get into my pants, and they still think I’m gonna give those sleaze-bags a chance after the fuck-ton amount of times I’ve told them off.” She stood up despite her statement, brushing off her black skirt and pulling her tie down just the slightest to make herself presentable. “Whatever, I know you’re gonna crucify me if I don’t do it - money, after all.”

A smirk settled on Kyoya’s face as he watched her reluctance. “Of course, dear. Don’t want to keep those undergarment-chasers waiting, do we?” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “If they try anything, leave and let someone know, of course.”

She chuckled at the taller male, “Of course, Ootori. I’m not dumb, I could easily put them in their place.”

The two shared a look before the female seated herself on the assigned couch. 

...

The year was passing by quickly, and as her popularity rose, Haruhi’s attention to her became more evident. (Y/n), admittedly wasn’t oblivious to the attention that she was being provided, but she was oblivious to the attention she was providing.

Now, the two sat next to each other in the cafeteria and talked about whatever was on their mind (at least, they did this when (Y/n) decided to show up to eat there instead of setting up pranks for the staff members). The two were showing an immense amount of attraction to the other, yet they wouldn’t come to the realization that they were crushing on each other. 

Even the Ouran Host Club graduates could pick up on the two’s liking to the other, despite not seeing them as often as they may have liked. When they did pop in, they tried to push the two together more often with the help of Tamaki himself and the twins. The whole of the club was in on a plan to get them together, sooner or later. 

Sadly, that would have to wait for the group as (Y/n) had started to revert back into skipping habits not long after her and Haruhi had developed a close bond.

Though the school had pressed for the person that decided to skip school at least once a week (which was still an improvement from the three days minimum that she’d jump for previously), they still failed to punish her severely due to Tamaki’s pleading and cover-ups. 

She was running thin, and frankly, her snark to other students was becoming more apparent. She had begun to let off more expletives than usual at anyone that pissed her off in the hallways, and would run to the bathrooms with no real explanation before planting herself in the nearest stall for the next class period.

This was starting to annoy staff, and Tamaki was walking an extremely tight rope due to it, but he was determined to help his cousin. He would stop at nothing to get her back to the person she was growing to be. 

One day, a Thursday, (Y/n) had run off to the bathrooms yet again. This time, school had ended, and while he knew that this would be a brash decision for someone so self-proclaimed gentlemanly, he ran into the girl’s bathroom to tlak to her. 

His footsteps weren’t the most silent, but he doubted she could hear him over the amount of mumbling she doing in the first stall. 

“This isn’t really happening, you’re just imagining this. You just like them as a friend.”

Bingo. 

“(Y/n)-chan?”

“The fuck- Tamaki? What the hell are you doing in the women’s restroom?”

The two left the area after letting Kyoya know that he and (Y/n) wouldn’t be attending to the club for a while. Despite his initial annoyance, Tamaki reassured him that it was something extremely important. 

They had decided to walk around campus for a while, mostly in silence as he waited for her to talk. He knew better than to press her on topics such as this, especially at times like these. 

“I’m worried.”

Tamaki’s violet eyes reflected worry, his brows furrowed in concern for (Y/n). “About what? You’ve gotten so much better, and you’ve told me that you like it. So, what’s worrying you?”

She sighed and gestured to the garden nearby with her head. Her eyes were silently pleading, acting as a way to indicate that she wanted to sit down. Whether that was out of fear for her emotions or Tamaki’s he was unaware, but he followed her outside and seated himself on the bench that had been laid before the lavender plants and roses. 

“It’s...it’s Haruhi.” The girl paused, took a  breath, and continued yet again. “I don’t know what...what I’m feeling for her..”

With a comforting hand resting on her shoulder, he spoke quietly. “What do you mean by that? You both enjoy each other’s company, from what she had said and you have shown. It isn’t contempt, is it?”

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s just...I think...I think I like her.”

Tamaki practically lit up at the statement. “You do? I swear, she does too, she’s just really oblivious. I can get you two together, but-”

“Tamaki, I appreciate the offer, but I know she doesn’t like people like me. Haruhi doesn’t like people that can’t keep the word ‘fuck’ out of their vocabulary for five seconds. She doesn’t like people that refuse to maintain a reputation that’s squeaky clean and extremely fucking poised. Worse yet, I know that even if she does like me, her reputation would be ruined by my shitty one - and that’s simply by default!” 

Tamaki remained silent as she continued, his hand still resting on her shoulder as his raised arm fell to his side slowly. He leaned in to listen to what she had to say closer. “I don’t want to drag her into my bullshit, otherwise I would’ve said something already! She just - ugh - she deserves someone that isn’t so nasty.”

As she let her face settle into her cupped hands, he sighed. Some thinking had to do the job, because she had been making such good progress and she was gaining more proper respect because of it. 

He knew she wouldn’t care otherwise, as she liked getting into trouble and basking in the adrenaline rush that came with the things that she did, but Haruhi had to remain well-mannered or else she’d be gone from the academy. 

Then it hit him. 

“How about this? You go home and think over this for the day, take a few days off from the club, and get some rest.” (Y/n) was listening attentively, wishing for something good to come from her cousin’s words. “Of course, you’d still have to attend school, but you could sneak some stuff in during break - you didn’t hear that from me.”

The female chuckled a little at his words, but she gestured for him to continue. “We were planning to have a ball soon, and Mori and Honey-senpai will be attending as prized guests. You can join us in hosting, but if you want to to, you can leave early.

“We want you to be as comfortable as you possibly can, after all - that, and.... Well, I know you and Haruhi like each other. I’m going to do whatever I can to make this happen.”

(Y/n) paused, seemingly frozen for a good second, before she leaped out of her seat and started smacking his shoulder. “What the fuck, Tamaki? You know that I don’t want that, she’ll be ruined! Anyway, she doesn’t like me! Seriously, how the hell do I handle you sometimes?”

Laughter left the male’s mouth as she slowed down, eventually letting her screaming cease in favor of a similar giggle. A gleeful smile gradually formed on her face, and the two finished their small sessions of laughter with panting. 

“My god, Tamaki, you are one crazy asshole, aren’t you?” she inquired playfully, breaths peeking between the words as she regained her breath from her sudden actions. 

In an abrupt action, Tamaki’s dramatic abilities came into play, feigning a face of horror as he uttered loudly. “That was extremely unladylike - you’re lucky I haven’t called for daddy!” 

The (h/c) gagged before grabbing what she had of her things and flicking him. “Let’s go; I need to go home, and you need to go back to the host club.” The taller blonde dropped his act and followed suit. 

As they left, a shorter figure stood by for a while after. A small brunette stood huddled tightly in formation to hide behind a pillar, having listened to the conversation that the two had shared. 

The amount of vulgarities that lined (Y/n)’s speech was a little shocking, but that didn’t phase Haruhi as much as what the content of it did. ‘She...likes me? I never noticed, I just...wow.... Is this why she’s been going through my head so much?’

She smiled hopefully, making sure to run back to the host club before Kyoya had added anything more to her already over-the-top debts. 

...

A few weeks had passed by now. More havoc was seen around the school from a week prior, all by (Y/n)’s doing, and the host club was back and full for the first time in a while. 

The week was prefaced with the aforementioned female sitting behind a curtain doing whatever she needed to do while listening in on any and all meetings that the group shared. Her grades were the highest they’d ever been - something that both scared and calmed the teachers - and she had been saving time for after school to do anything that was particularly crazy. The best part of all of this was that she had not only been able to begin attending classes again, but that she had also begun to think.

Thinking about things helped her out now, and she managed to get away with many more annoying things before jumping the stealthy gun and going absolutely crazy with her pranks. It also helped her out with her emotions, and she had realized something very important. 

Especially so since the ball that Tamaki had proposed they held was to be this weekend. 

(Y/n) had been debating on what to do for the coming event, but eventually settled for her tendency to wing it for stuff like this. She had an idea of what she wanted to do, but things change and she wasn’t down to make any specific plans for the day. 

Otherwise, there was something that she was heavily torn on. Her feelings towards the androgynous brunette host were getting harder to contain, the twins were starting to see the effects that had come with it, and they were holding a prank over her head if she were to avoid telling her soon. (Granted, they weren’t aware that she knew, but she had ways of getting information out of people - intimidation tactics definitely work.)

She wanted to yell them to Haruhi if that’s the last thing she did, but two turnouts hit her square in the face. What if she said no? Well, then she would be devastated, and considering that this is the first person that she has actually cared as much about (romantically, of course), she’d be worried. If that were to happen, would she push herself further into herself? Would she lose the progress she’d be getting? Maybe she’d permanently jeopardize her chances at a future?

On the other hand, what would happen if Haruhi said yes? Would she run away and claim that is was false, or would she stand by and be at a loss for words? What about Haruhi’s reputation? Normally, (Y/n) would be preaching and standing by her status as a deviant at the high end establishment, but this? This was different, and she knew this - it was inevitable that her reputation would follow Haruhi and ruin the already somewhat tainted one that she already had. Privileged prissy students were already something to tip-toe around for the beautiful and wealthy, but a poor scholarship student was bound to face more detrimental consequences by the student body. 

The whole scenario was leaving the collected girl in an extremely confused mindset, and it was starting to peek out to anyone that was able to see that her notes had little doodles hidden in the lines of the topic notes. She knew how to hide it, but Tamaki - the normally oblivious prince - had been the person to see the coded messages in her notes when he was helping her with her work for a project. 

The fear that was hitting her due to this was harsh, much more so than normal. For once, she was truthfully scared - she didn’t like it. 

Haruhi, on the other hand, noticed her improving after the chat she had eavesdropped on a bit ago. She also, for once, noticed that (Y/n) had become a bit more interested in what she was doing, sometimes even trying things that she normally wouldn’t try. 

From time to time, Haruhi would throw out a random idea for a prank that she had wanted to see as a joke, and it would have come up on the campus courtyard within the week. It flattered her, and seeing as she knew that (Y/n) was one to prank and cause trouble wherever, whenever, and for whatever? It made her flustered, frankly. 

With the ball coming up soon, too, she was determined to relax for the night, hopefully with the (h/c) beside her. No fear, nothing, just an image of her and her continually-developing crush standing beside each other under the stars - cheesy imaging, sure, but she enjoyed the thought.

They both had opposing stances on the event, though, and that was what Tamaki had caught onto first. He had seen the glances that had seemingly become more representative of longing, and he wasn’t going to do it. He had a plan, and he’d be damned if it didn’t work. 

...

“Ready, men?”

“Yes, sir!” 

“Are the decorations in the room prepped?”

“Yes, sir!”

“How about the music?”

“Ready!”

“Great, now the scenery. Balcony completed?”

“You got it, boss!”

“Amazing! Now, boys, let’s go cater to some girls, hmm?”

The gaggle of hosts had gather together earlier than others, already coming prepared and dressed, excited for the formal evening. A plan was looming over their heads as well, and they were driven to get it completed to perfection.

The subjects? Haruhi and (Y/n), of course! 

The two were unaware, courtesy of strict regulations regarding the scheme, and a new relationship was most definitely going to be formed later in the night. For benefit of both, privately, but they had to get the ship to sail. 

While the boys were meeting, (Y/n) was at home going through her closet. Big fancy ballgowns were never up her alley despite the many times that her parents had tried to force her to wear them, but they had given up after she would wear them with some ‘improper’ shoes or switch the dress out for a button-down and formal pants. 

She had run through all of the gowns in the front of the closet before reaching the back, finding where she hid all of her favorite formal clothing. It mainly consisted of options that people around her would normally trash her for, but she had persisted in her action to wear it. 

There was a plethora of short dresses that she found comfortable, even some lighter colored ones that she would typically gag at and hide away from. There was a section strictly reserved for dress pants and shirts, and some ties were set up beside them on a shelf. There was even some shoes that she would wear for formality purposes if they were absolutely necessary (read: for future privilege purposes). 

What stood out to her in her search of what to wear, though, was a silky (f/c) dress, complete with a small back lacing detail and a low-cut neckline. A pair of tights with a lacey pattern in black, a simple choker, and some sensible combat boots would tie the whole look together - might as well dress up to dress up and dress to impress while she’s at it. 

She reached the garments, grabbing what she could fit in her hands and leaving said closet in choice of getting dressed. 

Haruhi was being cornered by the twins and dragged to a room near the club room where there was a wide collection of clothing to choose from while (Y/n) had the benefit of taking her sweet time. 

Hikaru had tossed a dress that he had presented to her on a mannequin (which proved that the garment would be extremely skimpy), as did Kaoru, but Mori and Tamaki were quick to jump in and remove her from the dresses and to a changing room. She was promptly handed a dapper suit and told to get ready. 

(Y/n) had slipped the (somewhat) formal wear on, making sure that everything fell just right. It didn’t take long until she had called for someone to help her with her hair as she had little intention to wear makeup, and if she were to, it’d be very little. 

A servant of the family had slipped into the room and started to brush through her hair, and decided to curl it just the slightest. It fell to frame her features perfectly, and as the servant left and she did some light makeup, a smile started to spread across her face. 

For once, a formal event left her excited. Whether that was her suppression of the fear from the day before or a weird way to redirect it, she didn’t know, but she enjoyed the feeling. The fact that the thought was leaving her excited also drove her to fluff her hair a little bit before grabbing her cell phone and her bag. 

As she was on her way out of her room, she stopped and looked in the mirror. With her hair done, some makeup on, and a dress that usually would skip over unless she had a good reason - she paused. She stood stock-still and looked over herself in the mirror, seemingly glancing over a girl who she didn’t recognize. 

It was so different than her typical baggy t-shirt and torn jeans, so much so that she couldn’t believe that it was actually her reflection. She looked...pretty, for once, not grunge-y and dark. It brought more confidence to her as she texted Tamaki that she was on her way to the school. 

She got into the limo that he had sent for her, and she was on track for the academy. 

Haruhi had been getting prepped at the academy, courtesy of the host club. Kyoya and Tamaki were making sure that the decor of the ballroom was up to par, the twins were waiting beside the hairstylist and makeup artist they had hired for her, and Mori and Honey were greeting and making conversation with the females that had decided to attend the event.

Annoyance was a familiar expression on her face as she had tools prodding at it and people pulling her hair in what was supposedly called ‘styling’. She was willing to put up with it for the night, though, if it meant that (Y/n) would be able to see her. 

She didn’t know how this would have hit her, but she was finished not long after a knock was heard on the door. She was already full with an odd mixture of fear and excitement, but when she saw the (h/c) female walk in, her jaw almost refused to leave the floor. If it weren’t for Hikaru, it most certainly would have stayed there. 

Tamaki had rushed into the room, got a view of his little cousin all dolled up, and ran to hug her tightly. The air left her lungs for a second, but that was prevented due to Mori pulling him off her. A small ‘thanks’ was uttered before she was pushed towards Haruhi. 

The image in front of her held the same power that she had to Haruhi. She, the troublemaker who refused to keep her mouth shut, was left speechless. Her hair was done in a refined manner, her face held some light touch-ups, and the suit that she donned was making her features appear more clean and sharp. 

“Wow, you look...you look gorgeous, (Y/n).”

“I could say the same to you, Haruhi.”

The whole of the hosts watched on in intrigue, waiting for someone to say something more, but that was interrupted in favor of discussion. After all, each of them had to uphold a specific image for the night, and if that was a failure to up hold, well...beware the wrath of an annoyed Kyoya and an angered Tamaki. 

 It took around fifteen minutes to make sure everything was covered accurately and thoroughly, and the club was left to the night. 

They made an announcement, presenting the festivities of the night and the reward for the best dancer. Similarly to the previous year, the winner would receive a kiss from Tamaki, and the night would go on. 

Everything had begun with extravagance, catering was going on and handling the plethora of attendees with quick succession. (Y/n) had the pleasure of witnessing Haruhi go googly-eyed at the mention of fancy tuna for the umpteenth time, busting out laughing at the image of her holding a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, stuffing the food in gleefully.

In contrast to Haruhi, (Y/n)’s interest was peaked by the amount of shenanigans that she could pull overnight. The doors were open to the club, and if there were rooms left out and were lacking anyone inside them, that meant that those were primary times to pull pranks. She had already snuck out of the ballroom to a supply closet to create chaos in a staff room nearby. Haruhi had watched her run off and enact her plan, refusing to stop her in favor of watching the glowing glee that radiated from her as she did so. 

Everything that had been happening was being monitored by Tamaki, and alongside Kyoya, the twins, Mori, and Honey-senpai; they were almost ready to push the big plan into action. 

Operation (Ship/name) was to be put into action in T-minus ten minutes.

The night had continued to pass by happily, and around the start of the competition, Hikaru and Kaoru had dragged (Y/n) and Haruhi off (respectively) into different hallways. They had to interrupt their conversations, but everything was just starting. 

While Kyoya had been initially keeping an eye of the plan, he had requested that Mori and Honey stand by the twins while the competition was being done. Tamaki was stood beside him and had provided specific action for the duo as before they took their leave. Thankfully, a majority of the attendees were caught up in the night, and failed to notice the group of hosts leaving. 

As the twins had brought the respective person to an assigned room, they had made sure that the lights were kept off for a bit longer. The subjects of the plan were left to wander around the room in the dark, eventually finding themselves by bumping into the other. 

When the quartet had heard the sound, they had made a quick job in turning the ceiling-rigged lights on. This left the two under an indoor view of sparkling lights that mimicked that of stars, making the two realize that something had been planned. (Y/n) had remained staring at the ceiling lights while Haruhi was left staring at the floor, only then letting the situation hit her. 

The two of them had remained in their own little worlds as Mori had let the curtain blocking balcony open, leaving moonlight to creep into the impeccably decorated interior and allow it to glow under the night sky. Everything seemed too surreal to be generally close to reality, but the setting provided a sense of pride and comfort for the (h/c) female, which then led her to make a brash decision.

“Hey, uh, Haruhi?”

The said brunette lifted her head from the tiled floor to make eye contact with her, and the view that met her sight left her breathless for the hundredth time that night. The glow from the moon let her features pop, almost made her appear to be glittering, and she couldn’t form any coherent thought for a second. 

Eventually, something did come to her head, but it took an extra prod from aforementioned female to do so. “Uh, yeah? What is it?”

“Well, I...”

The hidden group had stood behind in a dark corner, watching the scene before them unfold. Honey-senpai had a hand pressed against his mouth as he gripped Usa-chan tightly, Mori maintaining his stoic face despite his eyes, and the twins gracing michevious grins. Tamaki and Kyoya had left to ‘deliberate’ on the winner, but they were watching with interest from a corner opposite to that of the other four - Tamaki had his own han dclosed around his mouth so no squeals of joy could be heard in the quiet room.

“I, uh...I like...you.” 

Haruhi’s eyes widened at her shy declaration. She had known the girl for a while, but she had never expected this to be how she handled something like this. Normally, she’d jump right in and shout the claim, not beat around it and stutter. This shocked her, and before she could utter a response, (Y/n) had spoken again.

“Listen, I know you may not like me, or you do - whatever. I just needed to get this off my chest, and if your answer is no, don’t be afraid to tell me.” She came off as bold, but one look in her eyes would tell even the most unaware being on planet Earth that she was truly terrified of the answer. 

“(Y/n), I like you, too.” 

It took everything in the viewing crowd’s power to keep themselves from shouting praises and congratulations at the two females. 

(Y/n) lips twitched upwards, forming the largest smile anyone of the group had seen on her face. It didn’t match the usual mischief that it normally did, nor did it seem like she was hiding something; for once, it looked like a real smile from a place of happiness rather than benefit. “Really? Great, I just feel the need to warn you of something before you say anything else, if you even decide to do so.”

Haruhi’s interest in the statement was brought to the speaker’s attention as she continued, “I get that I have a bad rep, and that what comes out of my mouth could rival that of a sailor. And, despite that, I’d normally jump at the chance to ask you out, but...”

The crowd of hosts watched on in anticipation, both worried and hopeful that thei rnew declared OTP would hop onboard the ship and allow it to sail. 

“I just want you to have a good time here, and I don’t want any of my fuck-ups to reflect on you. People here are vicious, and you’re already in the vein of students that get shit on. I should be the only one to deal with any stupid fucking repercussions from my own bullshit, and I don’t want to pull you into it. Now that I’ve told you that, you can tell me if you’d-”

The interruption was very sudden, and the way that it was done left even the hosts shocked. Haruhi had pulled (Y/n) to her and kissed her, preventing her from continuing her worried rant. A few seconds had passed before the magical moment ended.

The both of them were left breathless following the contact, and Haruhi’s next words brought joy to the (h/c)’s face. “I don’t give a damn about your reputation, all I know is that I like you and would like to date you.”

Tamaki had watched on in calm glee, the scene giving him a sense of joy that he hasn’t felt in a while. Seeing his troubled sister come out of her previous stump so strong made him so proud, and brought a new sense of pride to him along with it. She has truly shown that she has changed for the better while maintaining her typical attitude towards that world. 

“Thank fuck! Okay, now that that’s done, you wanna dance with me, your newfound girlfriend?”

“But there’s no music, (Y/n),” Haruhi chuckled out. A gentle smile sat on her lips as she spoke. 

“You think I give a damn? We don’t need any music to dance, y’know.”

Music had started to play from the background, cued by Tamaki pressing play on the radio remote. Speakers blasted a gentle slow song, and though the girls were now made freshly aware of the said blonde’s actions, they decided to forego any ounce of annoyance in favor of each other’s arms around the other’s waist. 

The slight squeak of (Y/n)’s boots and the slight shuffle of Haruhi’s suit was comforting the to whole of the club. 

Before long, the two had ended their short dance, allowing the six men that stood watching from the corners to reveal their presence. They had made it clear that they were only doing this to make sure everything went smoothly for the both of them, but before their short spiel could be completed, (Y/n) ran and jumped onto her cousin’s torso. If Tamaki’s hug left her breathless, her hug left him completely dead. 

The group had left the girls together in the room while they had decided on the winner in another room, and when they were done, they had gone to gather the girls for the announcement. 

Once the winner was crowned and the night had regained any sense of energy that it had lost, the new couple had made their way to the dance floor. The spectacle of two members of the club dancing together had left some of the attending students speechless, but the two remained unbothered as they had waltzed around the floor gracefully. 

Some people had watched on in awe at the two, never stepping in to stop them. Some of the viewers also gushed at the image, presumably falling victim to the ship that they had shown over the span of the year to this point. 

Once the end of the song was coming to the climax, (Y/n) had returned the kiss that was given to her by Haruhi earlier in the middle of the floor. The onlookers’ jaws had hit the floor as they continued to get into the action, the twins watching the scene while trying to suppress their laughter at the expressions of the people around them.

When (Y/n) pulled away from the lip-lock, she laughed at the incredulous expression that rested on Haruhi’s face before flicking her shoulder. “You little-” 

“Oh, trust me, baby - I already know.”

The crowd had let the moment pass somewhat, and the night continued along well. As the night was ending, though, some people had shot dirty looks at the two. This, of course, prompted (Y/n) to flip them the bird and a formal ‘Fuck you’ as they exited the building. 

“Was that really called for (Y/n)?” Haruhi asked in amusement, watching as she shrugged her shoulders. 

“A girl can do what she wants to do, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

The remainder of the night was left to the club, Kyoya directing the staff to clean whatever mess there was the other five males were left to their own devices. The girls had left the commotion in favor of the starlit room, leaning against the balcony and watching the clouds in the slightly-chilly night sky move in formation. 

As they had been throwing out suggestinos as to what shape they were forming as they moved, Haruhi proposed another question for the (h/c) beside her. “What about your reputation? Wouldn’t dating a scholarship student ruin that for you?”

(Y/n) paused, did a double-take to her and the ledge she was leaning on, and spoke up. “Please don’t tell me that you’re asking the same damn thing I did earlier? I already have a bad rep, and I frankly don’t care about it.”

“But, it might make it worse-”

“I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation, and I would highly appreciate it if you would refrain from claiming that you would be detrimental to it. I taint my reputation, nobody else.” 

“Fine, fine....”

[amandaoftherosemire]

A Sexy Stranger

Fandom: Marvel/MCU AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,539

Format: One-Shot

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, language, mild angst, stalking, fluff.

Summary: Alone in a club after losing your friends and needing a place to hide from a creepy stalker, you enlist the help of a sexy stranger.

A/N: Hey! Remember when we could go to clubs? I always think I want to go to a club until I’m there and then I want to be home in my pajamas. However, I think that feeling would take at least fifteen minutes to set in right now. I am an agoraphobic introverted misanthrope but even I miss people so much by this point. In that spirit, enjoy this fantasy of being in a room with a bunch of other people without worrying about the fact that you’re all breathing the same air.

A Sexy Stranger

Heading towards panicked, you scanned the crowd in the lower level of the club, looking for your friends. You had been trying with all your might to have fun, but you hadn't even wanted to come out to a club tonight. You'd been overruled because your best friend had wanted to dance, and her work friends were going clubbing. She'd refused to take no for an answer when you'd tried to stay home alone; she wanted to introduce you to some guy from work, so here you were.

And yet, when you'd gotten separated on the dance floor, it seemed like she'd disappeared on you. Then you'd caught a glimpse of what looked like Bill, the last person you wanted to see, and you'd bolted, desperate to find her and her friends. Standing near the stairs as the bass pounded through the floor overhead, you frantically scanned the scattered couches and chairs of the lower floor, looking for someone you recognized.

When you spotted the very person you were trying to escape on the other side of the crowd, you let out a squeak that shamed you and covered your face as you started desperately looking for a way out of this nightmare. It hadn't merely looked like your stalker, it was your stalker, and based on the way he was also searching the crowd, he knew you were here. If only you could find a place to hide.

Then you saw him: tall, dark, and dangerous. Gorgeous in blue denim, black cotton, and leather, he had a drink in his hand and boredom on his face. More importantly, he was standing directly in front of an alcove that you would fit in, hidden behind him.

Normally you'd never have the nerve to walk up to a man who looked like this one did, but you saw no other option if you were going to avoid Bill. The sexy stranger had a face, a body that looked sculpted by the devil to provoke lust and inspire sin, tall and broad and muscled, with dark hair short on the sides but thick and long on top. To top it off, he had the kind of bone structure a master sculptor would immortalize in marble. Still, you'd do almost anything to avoid Bill and Mr. Smolderingly Sexy was where you needed to be.

With a bright smile, you locked eyes with the man as you bobbed and weaved your way over to him. A raised eyebrow and the beginning of a half-smile made him look even more dangerous, and yet more approachable. Once you were close enough, you grabbed his arm with a sultry laugh.

"Yes!" Bright and cheerful, you pulled him around as you slid into the alcove, his height and width perfectly concealing you from the rest of the room. He didn't put up a fight, but the raised eyebrow had become a frown of confusion as you grinned cheerfully, trying to charm. "You, sir, are perfect."

A smirk lifted the corner of a mouth so pretty pink and plump you could get fixated on it and sent a shudder of lust through you. His voice was low and warm and seemed to shiver into your ear as he leaned forward and spoke into it to be heard over the crowd and the music pounding from the floor above. "So I've been told."

A little shocked by your instant attraction, you huffed out a laugh. "Ha, I bet,” you retorted playfully, to his obvious enjoyment. You put on every ounce of charm you possessed and aimed to tempt. "Look, I need to hide and you're the perfect height. If you keep me hidden from my gross stalker, I will buy your drinks all night." You held out your hand, fingers and thumb curled together, pinky up. "Pinky swear."

Bucky looked you over, sexy in club wear, adorable with your pinky in the air and mischief in your eyes. He was astonished, but utterly delighted to find that his night had all of a sudden taken such a hard-left turn into interesting. He couldn't put his finger on it, didn't figure it mattered anyway, but something about the curve of your smile, the brightness in your eyes, the temptation in your voice had him not just interested, but riveted. He'd been trying and failing to come up with an excuse that Sam would accept for why he should leave before meeting whomever Maria was trying to throw at him, but then you'd come out of nowhere to dazzle him.

"Like I need to be bribed to help a pretty girl." He reached out, wrapped his pinky around yours, charmed both by your smile and the innocent gesture. He smiled back and moved to flirt. "But I'll take you up on it to keep you close all night."

When your eyes lit up, Bucky felt a hard tug of lust, thinking you not just pretty, but stunning when you genuinely smiled. "Thank you!" You'd be more flustered by the flirting, but the relief that the guy you'd hidden behind was going to help was too huge. Bill was really starting to creep you out. "Both for the save and the compliment. I'm Y/N, by the way." You winked as you squeezed your pinky around his and shook his hand once before letting go.

“Bucky. Nice to meet ya.” The smile he gave you was slow, wicked, and sent a palpable shudder of excitement through you. He lifted his head to give the room what appeared to be a casual scan, but his eyes were narrowed and focused in a way that made you think he might be as dangerous as he looked. “Who should I be on the lookout for, gorgeous?”

His bright blue eyes came back to your face, warm in the low golden light of the bar's basement, and the sheer beauty of the man seemed to blow through you, stealing your breath. He looked not only ready and willing to ride to the rescue, but eager to help. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but something about this stranger made you feel reckless. You could see he was dangerous, but your gut was saying you were safe with him.

"Guy about your height but nowhere near your width." Your grin flashed appreciatively and you wiggled your eyebrows as you eyed his shoulders and made him laugh. "Dirty blond, weak chin."

Bucky was having a blast, thoroughly enjoying your sassy way of flirting. He was starting to understand how someone could get fixated on you. Hell, he could see himself making a fool of himself over you; he'd always been attracted to the bold and bright.

He lifted his head briefly and took another scan, determined to keep you to himself as long as you'd let him, when he caught sight of a man exactly as you described searching the room as he moved through it. "Is that him to your right?"

You glanced over and blanched. "Fuckfuckfuck."

At the sight of your genuine anxiety, Bucky went into protector mode. It had all been fun and games until he saw that you weren't just worried you'd be found, but scared. He hated to see your eyes go dim, decided on the spot to do whatever it took to chase the fear away and bring back the light that had so quickly captivated him.

Drawing on his skills as an operative, he eased to his left, putting his forearm on the wall over your head to use his body to shield you from view. As he moved, he spoke to reassure. "I’m gonna crowd you a bit on this side, get you a little better hidden."

That did it; you were a goner. He was moving so carefully, speaking so gently, it was clear that he was worried about scaring you. That he would go to so much trouble when you'd dragged him into your drama astonished you. And considering that you were hiding from someone with no respect for boundaries, Bucky's obvious concern that he not breach yours had you ready to climb him like a tree.

On a laugh rich with that attraction, you took a hold of the edge of his leather jacket and tugged softly, wanting to make your intent clear. "Come on over, sexy stranger. Way better than gross stalker." He crowded close with a wide grin and hot eyes but remained just far enough away to not be touching you, though you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours. It made you dizzy.

"I'm gonna have to hear the whole story over those drinks you're buying me." This close, Bucky could catch the edge of your scent and to his surprise, it was driving him a little crazy. You smelled of citrus and sweet and something indescribable, like warmth and sugar and sighs. He wondered if it was your perfume or if it was just you.

This close, you couldn't help but get caught in warm, bright blue. "That's the stupid thing!" You looked at Bucky earnestly as you leaned against the wall. "There's not really a story. I don't get it." You didn't know it, but your voice and demeanor had taken on a kind of sick bafflement that made Bucky's heart throb in sympathy. Your eyes had fixed themselves on a spot in the middle of his chest, a little lost and a lot confused. "He's just a friend of a friend of a friend who got weirdly focused on me."

"Hey." Bucky hated it when people blamed themselves for what others did. "That's the way it is sometimes." He gave you a warm smile as he lifted his free hand to your face to brush the pad of his thumb lightly over the line of your jaw. "You didn't do anything, I promise you. He probably needs help, and that's not your fault." The softness of your skin fascinated him, but he didn't want to come on too strong. He dropped his hand even as your lips parted in what looked like pleasure.

You took a shaky breath in, rocked to the core by the heat that spread through you from that delicate brush of his skin against yours. "You really are perfect, aren't you?" you laughed softly, thinking it odd that the exasperating situation with Bill the Stalker had led to this. The scent of Bucky, leather and pine, wound into your head and tempted. "I didn't even want to come out tonight."

Bucky gave you a conspiratorial wink. "Me neither. I really don't belong in this club." He said it laughing, but you could tell he meant it.

"Right!?" You nearly cried it, delighted to find him in agreement. "My best friend dragged me out with her work friends. I wanted to stay in with pizza and The Witcher." You shot him a warm look from under sultry lashes. "I didn't know you'd be here."

His answering smile was slow and hot and the way it turned his face dark and dangerous in the best possible way caused another spasm of lust to rocket through you. If he didn't stop being so damn perfect, you weren't certain you could resist that smile much longer.

Bucky couldn't believe how much he already liked you, wanted to find out more. He was starting to get irritated by the atmosphere that kept him on edge when he wanted to relax and get to know you. "You're singing my song." he said. "My friend says that I'm surly and antisocial and need to mingle with people."

"You, too?" Your arms were at your side, your hands against the cool brick. You pressed your palms against the rough surface, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Lost in bright blue, basking in the warmth of Bucky's body, you'd nearly forgotten that you were hiding. “But why does it have to be a club? I would kill to be in a pub with a beer, listening to somebody argue about the Yankees.”

Bucky's eyes lit up, making your skin run hot. Then his eyes narrowed. "Opinion on the Yankees?" he demanded.

A laugh tickling the back of your throat, you answered cheekily. "Evil."

"Will you marry me?"

You laughed out loud, the question so earnest you couldn't help yourself. His face spread from serious to a wide, happy smile at the sight of your laughter, and he was so pretty it took your breath again. You opened your mouth to flirt back, lifting your hand to his chest to toy with one of the snaps on his jacket when you saw Bill the Stalker out of the left corner of your eye.

Your hand closed, frightened, around the edge of Bucky’s jacket instead, your face matching the panicked movement. "Shit. He's right there."

Bucky was furious to see your eyes go dim in fear again, was opening his mouth to offer to deal with this asshole for you, but you were using your grip on his jacket to pull him even closer. The words died on his lips at the feel of your body against his. "Kiss me," you said, urgently, and he was only too happy to comply. His eyes glittered, hot and narrow, as he moved forward.

Bucky's arm slipped between you and the wall to slide around your waist and drag you against his body. His palm was warm between your shoulder blades as he pressed you to his chest and his lips to yours. Your mind was wiped clean at the feel of his arms around you, his mouth moving over yours slowly, as though he could take a thousand years savoring you. Your arms lifted to twine around his neck as your lips parted, the desire to taste him overwhelming. When he deepened the kiss with a low groan in his throat, sweeping his tongue between your lips to curl around yours, everything else faded away. You forgot where you were, who was around, and even why you'd asked him to kiss you in the first place.

Why hardly mattered. You were still kissing him because he was the sexiest man you'd ever met and kissing him had you hot and needy faster than you'd ever experienced. You didn't do one-night stands as a rule, but for Bucky, you'd make an exception.

Bucky was happily lost in the wonder of your mouth, only his years of training maintaining an awareness of his surroundings. That awareness of the crowd around the two of you was all that was keeping him from devouring you. The feel of your arms around him, your hand on the back of his neck as you pressed against him and kissed him eagerly had him lightheaded and rock hard.

The memory of why you'd asked him to kiss you tickled at the back of his mind, however. He wanted to take you somewhere else, somewhere your stalker wasn't. The next time you asked him to kiss you, he wanted it to be because you wanted him, not to hide from someone else.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head and loosened his arm, though he stayed where he was. His eyes searing, his voice a growl, he spoke to seduce. "There a pub three blocks from here that has Guinness on tap. Ditch your friends and I'll ditch mine." You'd swear the devil himself had a smile like the one that curved his perfect pink lips. "I want to know everything about you, and I can't think around this kind of music."

You'd dropped your hands to his shoulders when he'd broken the kiss, but to brace yourself, not push him away. Feeling reckless, you decided to trust your gut and go with him. You had a good feeling about a man who'd kiss you brainless, then offer to take you somewhere to talk. "I'm already there in spirit. I'll text my bitch on our way."

Bucky laughed and let you go to step back. "And I'll text mine." He held his hand out for yours with that wicked grin. "Shall we?"

You put your hand in his, that devil-may-care smile of his too tempting to resist. "Lead the way, sexy stranger. I'm with you."

A few hours later found you in Bucky's apartment, on his couch, in his lap. His hands were clamped around your thighs and yours were in his hair as you straddled his hips to suck on that plump lower lip the way you'd been thinking about since you set eyes on him. The hours between had been filled with easy conversation and warm laughter. Bucky had taken you to his pub, and over a couple of pints you’d talked about any and everything even as you breathlessly watched each other with eyes that burned and teased one another with casual brushes of skin.

When he asked you back to his place, you didn't hesitate. By that time, you were ready to spontaneously combust. You'd been on his couch for less than five minutes before you were climbing into his lap to take him up on everything his eyes had been promising all night.

Bucky pulled his mouth from yours with an effort, but the column of your throat had been tempting him for hours and he wanted the taste of your skin on his mouth more than his next breath. He also needed to hear that you wanted what he wanted, needed to be certain you were as lost as he.

"Goddamn, y/n," he purred against your throat as he savored the salt of your skin. His hands were skimming over the bare skin of your thighs to grip tight and the feeling had you rocking gently against him. Bucky continued on a moan, "You are so fucking sexy.”

You laughed and arched to give him better access to your neck, loving the feeling of his mouth on your skin, especially when he was saying such pretty things. "Me? You’re the one that looks like hand-crafted sin.”

Bucky chuckled at that even as his mouth grew more feverish over your neck and shoulders. “If you want to sin, babygirl, all you have to do is say the word.”

“The word.” You half-laughed, half-moaned your way through the cheeky retort as Bucky took the opportunity to scrape his teeth softly down the cords of your neck, making you shudder in reaction.

Bucky lifted his head, his mind muddled by the feel, the taste of you. At the mistily confused look on his face, you melted, utterly charmed. Your smile held mysteries he was desperate to unravel as you rubbed your breasts shamelessly against that broad chest and murmured, “I really don’t know how to throw myself at you any harder, Bucky.”

The fact that most of the blood that belonged in his brain had traveled south to his dick may have made him slower on the uptake than usual, but he'd gotten there. His face melted into a smug half-smile as his grip tightened around your thighs and he leaned forward to take your mouth in a ferocious kiss. Muscles bunching beneath you and making your heart race in arousal, Bucky stood with you in his arms, carrying you like you weighed nothing to his bedroom.

You didn't know how he did it, but somehow he got you into his bed without taking his mouth from yours. You barely remembered the trip, so viciously erotic was that meeting of mouths. With lips and tongue and teeth, he worshipped your mouth with his own, tumbling you into his bed in a tangle of limbs.

Now that Bucky was certain that you wanted what he wanted, to lose yourself in the press of your body against his, he let himself touch you the way he'd been craving since he met eyes with yours across a crowded room. Hands gentle but voracious, he pulled at your clothes until your dress was on the floor and his palms were moving over freshly bared skin.

You tugged as eagerly at his clothing, sliding your hands up under soft cotton to get to the soft skin and firm muscle beneath it. On your back in the middle of his bed, you shuddered and quaked in pleasure as his hands explored your belly, your hips, your thighs. Meanwhile, his mouth was moving over the curves of your breasts and murmuring words of praise in between sucking kisses to taste the salt of your skin.

You couldn't be self-conscious if you tried, Bucky was so clearly loving everything about your body. His hands only grew more eager, his mouth more avid as he impatiently stripped your bra away to cup your breasts in his hands.

Warm breath caressed your skin, sending shudders running through you as he brushed his lips over the mounds of flesh his kneading hands had made. “You have the prettiest tits,” he whispered hotly as his mouth closed around your nipple.

You moaned out a laugh as you arched into his hands, your core clenching in response to the maddeningly pleasurable sensation coupled with the hot appreciation in his voice. "Thank you?" you replied, unsure how to respond, not that he seemed to be listening, too absorbed in his current occupation of driving you insane with his mouth.

You opted to focus on getting him naked, desperate to feel him. Once you’d torn his shirt off over his head, he impatiently went back to adoring your breasts with his mouth as his hands wandered down to your ass. Meanwhile, your hands traveled over his shoulders and down his arms, reveling in the feeling of smooth skin and firm muscle, marveling at the glide of your palm over cool metal. You weren't exploring, however, but had a set destination in mind as you moved immediately to work on the buttons of his jeans, wanting as much of that velvet skin against yours as possible.

Bucky chuckled darkly as he lifted his head to nip at your lips. The sensation of your fingers at his fly pulling impatiently at buttons was teasing an erection already painfully hard. "You’re killin’ me, doll.” His voice was a growl, the accent of his youth growing more pronounced as his body heated with desire.

“Get these off and I’ll save you,” you retorted with cheeky grin as your hands slipped under the waistband of both the jeans you’d unfastened and his underwear. You were getting impatient and moved immediately to shove them down over his deliciously tight ass. His eyebrow quirked up, but he loved how insistent you were about getting him naked.

Bucky laughed when you quirked an eyebrow back at him and kept pushing at his clothing. Delighted with you, he rolled to the side to kick the last of his clothes to the floor. As soon as he was nude, he was rolling back to slide the length of his body against yours, braced over you on his metal arm, his pretty face inches from yours as his other hand went back to memorizing the texture of your skin.

The sight of him, sculpted as a marble statue, scarred as a warrior, took your breath. All that luscious skin pressing and skimming over yours as Bucky began to nibble at the edge of your jaw gave it back in the form of a moan. You slid one arm around his neck to bury a fist in his thick hair while the other wandered over his chest and around his back, reveling in the play of muscle as it went. "How are you real?" you asked in a whisper as the arm he wasn't braced on moved to your hip to push your underwear down over your ass, kneading the cheek as he went.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you." Bucky's voice was so low it registered as a growl. Pure lust resonated in his tone and took any sting you may have felt from his next words. "I’m seventy percent sure you’re an assassin; you’re too perfect."

The warmth and laughter were tempered by a half-serious note. Both made you giggle, flattered that he'd think you both perfect and deadly when you knew you were neither. "Don’t worry," you purred in his ear as his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you tight against his body to rub you against him, to pet you with his skin. His face was buried in the curve of your neck as with teeth and sucking kisses he sent shivers racing through you. "If I was, I’d wait until after I’ve fucked you." Bucky barked out a laugh as he lifted his head to grin into your eyes. He pulled away just enough to slide his hand between your thighs, his softly petting fingers making you shudder in reaction. "I couldn’t stop now if the room was on fire," you finished on a moan.

The sight of you, deliciously naked in the center of his bed, skin glowing in the low light of his darkened bedroom had him hotter than he'd ever been. Your muscles quivered with every soft slide of his fingers over and through your folds and sent shudders of reaction over his skin. Though the lust was riding him hard, he couldn’t resist the siren song of your pleasure, and kept his movements slow and deliberate as he learned your body and what you liked.

“Sweet,” he breathed in awe as you whimpered and clung, his hand working what felt like magic between your thighs, “and hot,” one long, gentle finger slipped down to tease at your entrance, “and so wet.” He finished his drawn-out sentence on a groan as your hips bucked upward and his forefinger slid softly inside as you gasped.

A slow, careful twist of his wrist and he was pressing deeper as you arched and whimpered, the feeling a gorgeous kind of friction that you couldn't get enough of. When he gently caressed your forward wall with the pad of his finger as it dragged out of you, your gasp of pleasure and soft "Oooh" of reaction sent a wracking shudder through Bucky as he barely held himself in check. He wanted to be inside of you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life, at least as far as he could tell in this moment.

He dropped his forehead to yours from where he'd been looking back and forth between your face and his hand working busily between your thighs. He was panting with the effort to keep himself from rolling on top of you and driving home immediately, but he also couldn't stop watching you take your pleasure from him. He plunged his fingers in and out of you in a rough but gentle rhythm that had you panting in turn.

"So wet," he repeated, making you cry out in shocked rapture as he softly rasped his palm over your clit as he pulled his fingers from you. "I fucking love it." He sounded like he was on the edge of his control and the deep grumble of his desire sent shockwaves through you even as his fingers began to rub rhythmic circles into your clit.

The hand you'd buried in his hair had released its death grip and gone traveling. You'd moved down over his metal shoulder, explored his chest and abdomen, enjoying the texture of his skin. At the same moment your hand closed around his cock, he found the perfect speed and rhythm.

With a gasp and a shuddering moan, your other hand shot down to close around his wrist. "Right there," you panted, your breath speeding as he kept moving exactly as you needed. "Like that."

Bucky's eyes had rolled back in his head at the touch of your hand sliding along his erection, but they soon narrowed on your face. He was lost in the undulations of your body, the thoughtless but no less pleasurable squeeze of your hand around his cock, the sweet sounds he was driving from your throat while you gave yourself into his hands. He wanted to see your face when you crested, needed to drive you to peak.

"Are you gonna come for me, pretty girl?" His voice was harsh with his panting breath on the question, the rumble of it settling into your skin where his chest was pressed to your side. "I wanna see it," your eyes went wide on his as he bent to nip at your lips, his breath hot as it mingled with yours, "wanna see how pretty you look coming on my hand."

"Oh my god," you moaned, shocked to feel yourself coming apart so quickly at his relentless, glorious hands, at his wonderfully dirty mouth. Your eyes closed as your head rolled back and your back arched as luscious waves of pleasure spread out from your core and through your body in wracking shudders. That busy hand worked you through every last one.

When he gently removed his hand and slid his metal arm from under you, where he'd slipped it under your arching back to hold you closer as you came and came, your eyes fluttered open to find his bright and searing. "Bucky," you breathed, sounding both seductive and impressed.

Dazzled by the warm, soft look of pleasure that marked both your face and form, he paused in his roll to the nightstand and leaned down to kiss you with a tender kind of greed. "Beautiful."

When he pulled away to sit on the edge of the bed to roll on a condom, you lay stunned and still shaking, but sinfully smug. Your heart was still racing from the delicious way he'd touched you, the attention he'd paid, the care he'd taken. You firmly told yourself that you did not believe in love at first sight and even if you did, you were not so naïve as to mistake good sex for anything more.

Then he was standing up and turning around to climb onto the bed and come toward you on his hands and knees, all sculpted muscle and aroused male. You licked your lips and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with a hungry appreciation that made him laugh.

Bucky was so aroused it actually hurt and he couldn't wait to be inside you. He'd make love to you slowly later. For now, he was shaking with need even as he skimmed his hands up and over your thighs to close his hands around your hips. With a cocky smirk, he pulled you close, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"I’ll bet you’re even prettier coming on my cock.”

“Only one way to find out.” Your mouth quirked up seductively even as the timbre of his voice, pure rough lust, sent a shudder through you. That shiver of heat over your skin had you tightening your thighs a little on the invitation. You were almost dizzy with the heat of his body and looking at him towering over you, all sexy smirks and hungry eyes, made you nearly desperate to have him inside you.

Bucky’s face had taken on an almost feral look of anticipation as he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. He was gorgeous in nothing but his skin and desire, his muscles bunching and flexing as he held you in place. On your sassy response, however, his face melted into a laugh and then a sweet smile that looked so close to adoration it made your heart kick in a different kind of excitement.

He leaned over you, braced on one arm as his metal arm slipped under your hips to hold you. As he began to sink slowly into you, he took your mouth with a savage greed that made you buck your hips in answer.

Your arms came up to wrap around him as you whimpered into his mouth, the stretch to accommodate him almost uncomfortable if it wasn’t such rapture. You kissed him back with a fervor you couldn’t remember experiencing before and couldn’t hold back.

With a panting groan, he tore his mouth from yours to rest his forehead on your shoulder as he pushed slowly and gently, despite that tempting movement of your hips. He had the nearly overwhelming urge to begin thrusting wildly, the sensation of being wrapped in you was so exquisite.

“Damn,” he purred in your ear as he pushed steadily deeper, “I knew you were damn near perfect but goddamn.” On the last growling word, he thrust to the hilt and paused to readjust his slippery grip on control. You were making gasping, panting noises of need and the sound was making him crazy. Only the fear of hurting you kept him from snapping and slamming into you, the feeling of you stretching and clenching around his cock pushing him to his limits.

You kept still except for those gasping breaths of excitement, feeling almost too stretched. As Bucky held still to let you adjust to having him inside you, you could feel yourself begin to soften and relax around him, your muscles shifting to hold him closer. He obviously felt it too, and gave a tiny testing thrust that had an answering moan lifting out of you.

His head lifted from your shoulder to look into your face, his eyes searing as he took in the sight of you reveling in the pleasure he brought you. “You ready, pretty girl?” He gave another testing thrust and smiled when you shuddered and clung to him, arms and legs wrapping tight around him.

“Ready for what?” You smiled on the mock confused question as your hands slid up his broad back into his hair and you rocked your hips a little, slightly moving yourself along his length.

His eyes were searing as he bent his neck to nip at your lips, but you could taste the laughter on his mouth. Achingly slow, he withdrew, and Bucky felt that tether on his control slip a little when you whined at the loss. When he thrust a little forcefully back into you and you cried out in ecstatic relief, a single, elongated, hissing "Yes," falling from your lips, he gave in and let go.

His face took on a dangerously beautiful cast that only added to the delicious feeling of him giving you exactly what you wanted, everything he'd been holding back. You gloried in the feeling of his metal arm holding you up for his rough thrusts, his cool hand squeezing your ass. His other arm was up under your back and over your shoulder, his long fingers pressing into your skin as he surrounded you, enfolded you, destroyed you.

Bucky gloried in your cries of pleasure as his thrusts sped and sped until he was pounding into you. Even as he lost control, some part of his brain kept track of your responses to make sure he wasn't hurting you, but you egged him on through both word and deed, your breathless voice in his ear pleading, urging, demanding, your hips relentlessly rocking to meet his.

Your arms and legs were wrapped around Bucky, holding him as close as possible. You adored what he was doing, his thrusts perfectly balanced on the edge between pleasure and pain. You felt utterly ravished, and with Bucky, it was glorious.

One of your hands was in his hair while the other skimmed and scratched at his back, shoulders, ass, any part of him you could reach. Every press and slide of your hand made him crazier, pushed him higher. His hips moved just a little faster with every shudder of pleasure he felt at the touch of your hands on his body, in his hair.

Your hips only rocked faster in return, taking all he had to give you and returning it. He'd never felt so in sync with someone so quickly and he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

With a snarl of lust, he lifted up onto his knees, wanting to see his cock sliding in and out of you. He slid his forearms under your thighs to close his hands around your hips, not breaking the rhythm of his thrusts into you. The change of angle was exactly what you needed to push you over that shuddering edge into ecstasy.

Bucky’s jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. He could feel you squeezing and rippling around him as your climax took you and the sensation coupled with the sight of you nearly dragged him over that edge with you.

His thrusts slowed as he got lost watching the picture you made, your arms at your sides, hands fisted in his sheets, your back arched as you moaned, rapture touched with surprise as you came. “Beautiful,” he breathed as you began to relax back into his bed, falling back to Earth.

Your eyes fluttered open to find his narrowed and glittering, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Your breath caught when his mouth curved in a dangerous smirk and he readjusted his grip around your hips.

“Again,” he growled as he picked up the speed of his thrusts once again, driving you back to peak, before the last ripples around his cock had ceased. He was delighted to find that same angle and speed and sent you flying again, to your shuddering astonishment.

He was only human, however, and he couldn’t resist bending down to kiss you the next time he gave you a brief respite from those relentless hips. Once he was close, braced on his arms over you, you twined around him like a vine. All soft limbs and softer sighs, you pulled him onto you and rubbed against him, wanting his velvet skin against yours, his warmth seeping into you again.

Bucky was rocking into you with more and more force before he realized it, losing himself in the sweetness of your voice in his ear as you kissed his neck, your breath on his skin, your hands brushing pleasure into his flesh, tangling in his hair. You were soft and sweet and the feel of you under his hands, his body only pushed him further into the ecstasy of your hands and body drawing him down and under, into you.

What was ultimately his undoing, however, was the sound of your voice, an ache in your breath against his skin, a simple sentence. “Bucky,” you whimpered and his name in that tone had his grip on control slipping, “it’s so good.” You sank your teeth into his shoulder, but it was already too late; he was coming with stuttering hips and a groan of joy-soaked pleasure.

He’d expected you to delight him. He hadn’t expected you to destroy him.

You’d already been riding waves of feeling, highly sensitized and shimmering through shockwaves in response to his every smooth movement. The sudden increase in speed sent you flying once again, but this time, you were able to take him with you.

As the waves of swamping pleasure eased, Bucky dropped his forehead to yours, breathless and smiling sweetly and you felt your heart kick in a way that had you smiling helplessly back.

Thinking that you were possibly the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, Bucky pressed his lips to yours in a kiss too soft and tender for a simple hookup. “Beautiful,” he whispered before rolling away to sit on the side of the bed. You heard something land in the wastebasket, you assumed the condom, before he flopped back down with a sigh of contentment.

“Damn, doll,” he murmured, still a little breathless, “you know how to wreck a man.”

You lay in Bucky’s bed, still vibrating from what he’d done to your body, and stared at the ceiling in astonishment. You'd never been in this situation, wanting more from a hookup, so you didn't know quite what to do. You wanted to respond with something sassy, some witty flirtation, but all that came out was a wondering, “Oh, wow.”

Bucky snorted as he rolled to his side, smug to hear the well-pleasured rasp to your voice. Propping his head up on his hand, he looked down at you as his arm snaked out to curve around your waist and drag you close. Snugging you in next to him, he grinned happily, his pretty face making your heart kick again. "High praise," he teased, charmed by the shy smile you were giving him in return. "I hope you don't intend to dip out now that you've had your wicked way with me."

He knew he’d said the right thing when the tension in your muscles eased and your body melted against his, your smile turning sultry. He couldn’t resist the seductive curve to your mouth and leaned down to brush his lips against yours. “I still want more, if you’re up for it,” he whispered against your mouth, his hand squeezing your hip gently.

Your heart was kicking and dancing no matter how you chided the silly thing, but that didn't stop the smile from lighting up your face and dazzling Bucky all over again. "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome," you flirted back in a low murmur, "but if you aren't satisfied…" As you trailed off, you lifted a hand to his shoulder to pull him back down, arching up to take his mouth with your own.

The next time Bucky lifted his head, he was breathing fast and his body was signaling that it was ready to go again, though he would wager yours wasn't. He dragged himself back from the temptation you posed, breaking the kiss reluctantly. "I'm not sure I can get enough." He smoothed his hand in a sweeping motion down over your thigh and back up again, sending agreeable shivers over the surface of your skin. His voice was a rumble of seduction, coaxing you to relax and let him adore you. "Can I convince you to stay if I promise to make you breakfast?" he asked even as his arms were pulling you closer.

"I don't know." Your voice was warm and inviting on the response. Bucky couldn't have made it clearer that he was as caught in this as you were. You hadn't yet regretted following this sexy stranger into the night. You'd follow him into tomorrow. "Can you cook an egg over medium?"

Bucky's eyelids lowered, as did his voice, and the look of him was so sexy, your nails dug into his skin in sheer lust. "You have no idea what I can do with this hand."

You blinked, a little shocked, a lot interested. "That almost sounded like a threat."

The corner of his mouth lifted in that infuriatingly sexy smirk. "A dare." When you smirked back, and drew him back down, he murmured against your mouth, "How did I know you'd take a dare?"

The next morning saw you sitting in his kitchen, wearing one of his Henleys and nothing else. A perfectly cooked egg sat on your plate, along with hash browns smothered in cheese and gorgeous golden-brown pancakes. The man was a genius, his arm precise to an insane degree and his control over it awe-inspiring. You didn't know what lucky star you'd fallen under to have found him, but you were thanking it with all your might.

The hallelujah chorus singing in your head only grew louder when you lifted a bite of pancake to your mouth and found it to be perfectly fluffy, with the right give to your teeth. You almost came for the umpteenth time and you made a sound to match. At your purr of pleasure, Bucky's eyes fired, and you knew that only your earlier confession that you were getting sore was stopping him from having you again.

The previous night had left you with no doubt that Bucky wanted you.

The fire in his eyes took on a decidedly green hue, however, when halfway through a laughing, flirty breakfast your phone buzzed on the table between you with a text from Bill the Stalker, as you'd named him both in your head and in your phone. Bucky's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed even as he sat back in his chair and casually slung his arm over the back.

“You should tell him that you're seeing someone."

You could hear the vague irritation and hoped it wasn't jealousy. You didn't think you could stand it if a man this amazing in every other way was going to drop a red flag like possessiveness straight out of the gate. "Should I?" You spoke the words mildly as you forked up another bite of pancake, but the challenge was clear in both your tone and the raised eyebrow you quirked in his direction. "Am I seeing someone?"

Bucky's grin flashed, pure appreciation. He had a soft spot for sassy women with spines of steel. He only grew more and more infatuated with every minute in your company, every new expression that crossed your face. "I sure as hell hope so." He abandoned his casual posture, leaning forward to take your free hand in his. Playing gently with your fingers, he smiled, his pretty face bashful pink. "I want to see where this goes. Don't you?"

"Yeah." You breathed the word without thinking, but couldn't, wouldn't take it back. He was a dream come true in a dozen different ways and though you knew he had to have his flaws, you found yourself excited to find out what they were. "Yes, I do. Every risk I've taken with you has worked out really well for me so far."

Bucky laughed, delighted with you and the world in general. He didn't know how he lucked out to have collided with you, but he was painfully grateful. He lifted a hand cup your throat, his thumb brushing your face as he pulled you close. He kissed you quickly to begin, flashing you that happy grin, but then he kissed you long and slow, with a warm promise that made your heart race.

As you pulled back, your breath caught at the look of narrow-eyed lust on Bucky's pretty face. "Am I gonna make it out of this apartment today?" Your voice was a wry invitation. You didn't want him to think you were necessarily against the idea.

“Only if you want to.”

Bucky gave up trying to keep his hands off of you, reaching out to drag you into his lap. His palm immediately began skimming up your thigh and under the shirt he'd loaned you. "Fuck it," you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "I was done with breakfast anyway."

Bucky responded by burying his face in your neck as he pushed the plates away to the other side of the table, his other arm tightening around you.

You smiled softly as you remembered how you'd found him.

You looked over your outfit for the night, considering. You wanted it to be perfect, the kind of outfit that would make him crazy to get underneath it. You brushed your hand over soft fabric, the kind that begged to be touched, to be caressed. Underneath you'd be wearing more soft fabric, but the kind that begged to be removed, torn away in rapture.

You were in the bathroom putting a touch of gloss on your lips, just enough to make them look wet, when you heard your front door close and Bucky's shout of greeting. With a quick grin at yourself in the mirror, you whirled to start your standing Friday night date.

Bucky looked up from the takeout he was setting on your coffee table. His bright blue eyes warmed at the sight of you, his face lighting up as it always did. You'd yet to regret a risk you'd taken with him, up to and including moving in together. You woke to those blue eyes every day now, as long as he was home.

You put up with the times he had to be away, because he made it worth it, was always a hundred percent present whenever he was with you. He made it clear that in every way he was yours, that there was nowhere he'd rather be than with you. Maybe it was that you had a stalker when you met, but he'd also always been respectful of your space, never made you feel crowded or afraid. He'd always used that deadly strength and grace to adore you, to protect you.

He hadn't had to intimidate Bill, however, to his chagrin. Maria beat him to it, which salved her irritation that the two of you had found each other without her help.

Bucky's eyebrow quirked up when you stood in the doorway to your living room and looked him over, a secretive smile on your face. "Get your ass over here, pretty girl," he demanded, disbelief that you weren't already in his arms ripe in his tone. His grin flashed like lightning when you almost ran to him, grateful for the jackpot you'd won in each other. You knew it was a simple thing, but a rare one nonetheless, to be so easy together, to be so in tune.

For instance, "Mmm." He buried his face in your neck as he hummed and his hands immediately started wandering over the soft cashmere that covered you, palms skimming over the fabric, fingers kneading at the flesh beneath. You'd known he wouldn't be able, nor would he bother to try, to resist the temptation you'd deliberately presented. "What're you hiding under here, huh?"

His voice was warm and full of fun as his hands went to the tie of the robe he'd given you for your birthday. As was yours when you playfully batted his hands away. "You'll find out." You grabbed his hands in yours and held them as you brushed your lips against his. "Get the movie ready while I grab drinks."

Awhile later, dinner was gone, the credits were rolling, and you were straddling Bucky's hips as he found the silk and lace you were wearing beneath the cashmere when your phones went off, one after the other.

"You look. I'm busy."

His hands were skimming up from your hips to your breasts and back down again as he devoured the sight of you in midnight blue lingerie. His voice was a low, warm growl of desire and you knew it would have to be an emergency to distract him now.

As you leaned back to grab your phone from the coffee table, you sent him a sultry look and let your robe slip over your shoulders and down your arms. Bucky's hands tightened around your hips as his eyes narrowed, glittering, and his mouth curved in that cocky smirk that had gotten you into all of this in the first place. Thank heaven for it.

"Sam and Maria. The club."

You tilted a look of smirking disbelief Bucky's way, rolling your eyes as you tossed the phone back on the coffee table. Your eyes warm and sultry, you let your robe fall all the way off, making him laugh happily and yank you close.

“Fuck the club.”

The End.

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[danny-chase]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Titans (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Tempest (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Garth Characters: Dick Grayson, Garth (DCU) Additional Tags: Titans (DCU) feels, Garth needs a hug, Garth gets a hug, Tula is dead, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hot Chocolate, Sunrises, Snuggling, Hugs, Crying, POV Dick Grayson, sand dunes, Grieving, dick grayson is a good friend Summary:

The one where Dick Grayson comforts Garth over Tula's death.

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Dick crept through the dimly lit halls of Titans Tower. Well, he supposed it ought to be called Titan Cave or something, now that it was underground, but that was besides the point. His friends were light sleepers, and it was late, or early, he wasn’t exactly sure – it was dark outside, so someone was probably sleeping. He should be sleeping; at this rate someone was going to yell at him (a few someones already had), but he hadn’t been able to put down their latest case until he finished analyzing the evidence. It wasn’t his fault; if he tried to sleep then… it wouldn’t have gone well.

Passing Roy’s room, he heard a thud behind the door. Okay, maybe not everyone was sleeping. Donna’s room was noticeably empty across the hall. Dick couldn’t help making a face, yeah, the Titans were like family, but he considered Donna a sister (they sometimes pretended to be twins) and ugh. That was weird. He didn’t disapprove but like, nope, not thinking about it anymore.

 Pressing on, his eyelids heavy, a second open door caused him to pause. Garth’s room was empty. Alone, it would have been innocuous, but he’d seemed distant earlier in the night and retired to his room before the rest. A photo of Tula sat on the edge of Garth bed.

 Dick snapped to attention, shuffling in the room, scooping up the evidence. He flicked-on a nearby lamp, and held the photo close, finding exactly what he’d expected: the faint outlines of teardrops. Sleep be damned, it was time to find Garth.

 Garth had never been the same after Tula died. Dick had fully expected the two to marry; he’d already been working on a wedding gift when the news hit. It was still half finished, sitting in his workshop, collecting dust. Dick strode out of the room, dashing back towards the stairs. Garth didn’t talk about Tula, never to them, never grieved with them. And Dick was tired of leaving grieving teammates alone.

 He took the steps three at a time, mind sorting through the possible places Garth could be. He wouldn’t have gone back to Atlantis; the man was too loyal for his own good sometimes; he wouldn’t leave the tower when they expected him to be around. Likely not at the pool either, Garth would go someplace he could remember Tula, and though they’d swam together in the old tower’s pool, Tula had died before the new base was built. And so, that left one possibility, Dick sped up his pace; Garth was by the shore.

 He stopped on the level just before the surface, popping into the communal kitchen. He pulled one of his leather jackets off the back of a chair and pulled a couple travel mugs out of the cupboard. The Keurig was the single best investment the team had ever made (he again put it on the mental shopping list for his new apartment), and he grabbed a hot chocolate cup for Garth and extra-caffeinated coffee for himself.

 After starting the coffee, he leaned back against the counter, hopping up to sit on it. Closing his eyes, he could still picture Garth and Tula swimming together; the joy they exuded simply by being near to one another. He leaned his head back against the cupboards, sighing heavily. Tula had brought a lightness to the team, a lightness to Garth. He’d gotten so much more confident throughout their relationship, he’d always been kind and loving, but the two brought out the best in each other.

 It was painful to see the changes wrought by her death.

 Even more painful to think of Garth being forced to destroy her possessed body.

 Dick learned at a young age that this world was cruel. And he’d learned that lesson over and over again with every new friend he made.

 It wasn’t fair that Garth had been abandoned at birth. It wasn’t fair that Wally’s parents abused him. Or that Joey and Raven died. Or that Victor had lost everything but his mind. If he listed all the injustices against his Titans family, he’d be here all night.

 His coffee finished next to him, and he started the hot chocolate. He pulled his socked feet up on the counter, wrapping his arms around his knees. He took a careful sip, not minding as the coffee burned his throat. The sensation helped ground him back in the present.

 Bruce had taught him, that even though this world was cruel, there were things you could change to make it more kind. Dick could change himself. He could make Garth hot chocolate. That wasn’t enough, but at the least it was something.

 He refused to wallow, instead turning his thoughts back towards Garth. He hopped off the counter, doing jumping jacks and squats to get his blood flowing.

 By the time the hot chocolate finished, Dick was way more alert and awake then before. Grabbing the mug, he half ran up the stairs, careful not to spill a drop. He slipped on his crocs, flinging open the door with one hand, and balancing the drinks in the other.

 A shiver ran down his spine as the cool ocean breeze danced across his face, tossing his bangs in his eyes as he hustled across the beach. The stars illuminated his surroundings, they were far enough from the cities to avoid light pollution, and coming here from Blüdhaven, he was always stunned by the beauty of the natural world.

 “Garth?” He called. He couldn’t see past the sand dunes, but Garth had excellent hearing, so hopefully he wouldn’t catch him off guard. He was sneaky, but he wasn’t rude. Most of the time.

 He winded his way around, looking for his friend’s footprints. Unfortunately, they were nowhere to be found; the wind kept blowing the top layer of the sand, whipping it up and masking the presence of those who’d journeyed through. “Garth? I know you can hear me.” His shoes hadn’t been by the door. “I’m not sleeping until we talk.” He threatened, stopping in his tracks. He glanced around. A hand waved out from behind another dune.

 Dick rushed forward. “Garth are you…” the question died in his throat; Garth was tucked in a little ball, his face buried in his knees, arms blocking any sign of expression. “…oh Garth.” He breathed, squatting down and settling the drinks in the sand. Garth’s ragged breathing cut through the hum of the night. “Can I…” Dick raised an arm. “…do you want a hug?”

 Garth was unmoving, so Dick sat back in the sand, lying against the dune, listening to his painful breathing. He stared up at the stars, listening as insects chirped and waves lapped against the beach. He looked for a shooting one, because if he could, he’d wish his friend’s heartbreak away.

 If Dick controlled the fate world, things like this would never happen.

 He’d wish away all his friend’s sorrows in an instant.

 But messing with the timeline always had disastrous results. So really. Dick was the one thing he hated to be.

 Useless.

 Back on top of a platform, watching his loved ones fall.

 “I’m sorry.” He murmured, his heart sinking. “Garth, I’m so, so sorry.” His stomach clenched; Tula never should have died. He should have been there, done something more, led the Titans better. But, this wasn’t about him and Garth likely felt the same.

 Garth plopped back into the sand next to him, throwing an arm over his eyes. Dick was at a loss for words, but he continued anyways. “She would be so proud of you.” His brain ran through a list of platitudes he’d memorized. “I’ll always remember how she smiled when you were together. Remember that time she tried making you a cake for your sixteenth birthday and caught the oven on fire?”

 He didn’t move.

 “What about the time she-”

 “Dick?” Garth’s whispered, voice rough.

 “Yeah?” His heart raced.

 “I’ll take the hug if you shut up.” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 He sat up and pulled a half-limp Garth into his side, tucking him against his chest. He carded a hand through Gath’s course curly hair and rubbed circles into his back with the other. Garth trembled in his arms, his eyes squeezed shut.

 He bit his lip. He could handle victims of horrid crimes, but he had no idea what he was doing right now. No training in the world could have prepared him for this, no matter how many of his friends lost a loved one, it was different every time.

 He leaned back against the dune, tear drops staining the exposed part of his shirt as Garth began to sob anew. He held Garth tight, squeezing gently, reassuring his friend he was still there.

 They sat like that, for a long while, Dick only moving to take sips of coffee, because there was no way in hell he’d accidentally fall asleep. Garth’s breathing evened out as time went on, and eventually, Dick could pretend things were fine. He played with Garth’s hair for a few minutes more, not wanting to do anything to provoke more heartache.

 Garth let out a long, quiet sigh. “I’m pathetic.”

 “Nope, cut that out.” Garth sat back up, and Dick followed him, keeping an arm slung around his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 “Not what I meant.” Garth glumly settled his head in his hands. “Tula… she wouldn’t want to see me like this.”

 Dick handed him the mug of (cold) hot chocolate. “Maybe not, but she’d want you to take as much time as you needed grieving.” Garth accepted it reluctantly. “She’d wouldn’t want you to ignore your feelings.”

 Garth snorted. “Dick Grayson. Lecturing me about ignoring my feelings. Oh, how far I must have fallen to sink to these lows.” He felt heat rise to his cheeks.

 “Hey.” He objected. Garth grinned, ruefully, apologetic.

 “I’m not ignoring them.” He assured, though his smile fell. “I’m managing.”

 “I’m just saying, you don’t have to manage alone.” Dick paused for a moment. “My door’s always open.”

 “I know.” Garth leaned against his side. “And I love you for it. But with all due respect, you don’t have time left to give.”

 “I-”

 “Neither does Wally,” Garth continued, cutting him off. “Donna and Roy, I don’t wish to interrupt, Victor is dealing with a lot, and the others wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know Tula.” Dick pressed his lips together. “I don’t intend on being a burden to the team.”

 “You’re not a burden, we wouldn’t exist without you.” Dick nestled his head on Garth’s shoulder. “Trust me, I’ll always have time for you. And so will the others.”

 Garth hummed, warming the cold beverage with his hand, and taking a long sip.

 “For real.” Dick continued. “I can take time off my job, I’ve been thinking about quitting anyways-” Garth’s laughter echoed across the water. “-okay fine, I get your point, but Garth, please you can talk to us… you can talk to me. But I get it if you don’t want to, or feel like you can’t, so promise me, you’ll talk to someone if it gets too much… we have people approved by the JLA.” Therapists. Psychologists. Psychiatrists.

 The sun was starting to peak up over the horizon, the sky lightening into a melancholic shade of blue, not a single cloud in sight. Garth nodded. “I promise.” Dick sighed in relief, his chest deflating at the words. He pressed his mug to his lips again. Empty. He frowned, tossing the cup aside. Traitor. “Promise you won’t worry?” He could hear the hope in Garth’s voice.

 “Sure.” Dick answered, nonchalantly.

 “Liar.” Garth accused. Dick grimaced. “You’re quite easy to read when you haven’t slept in two days.” Garth patted his shoulder placatingly. “I wouldn’t expect you to not worry.” Silence fell between them.

 “Thanks.” Garth whispered after a few minutes. Dick squeezed his shoulders in response. This was, at the least, something he could do.

 The sky turned purple and pink, chasing away the dreary colors and reflecting beautifully off the water. They sat together, watching the sunrise, huddled together against the harsh world. The caffeine was wearing off and Garth had dark circles under his eyes. If they were ambushed, his paranoia screamed, they’d be easy targets. But as he lay back down against each Garth and the sand, Dick didn’t resist the urge to let his eyes close.

 He snuggled close to Garth, content with the knowledge that some alarm would wake him if things went wrong, and aside from that, his friends were nearby. Here, with Garth, he felt safe, and it seemed Garth held the same sentiment. Dick listened as his breathing deepened, taking in the moment until he too drifted off to sleep.

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[yikesharringrove]

i’m sorry that you’re having a rough time. if you need to talk my ask is always open! 💜 something I haven’t really seen in the harringrove fandom is a bookstore aus. do you have any head cannons for that? or maybe you could write something? i can see billy being a pretentious, flirty sometimes grumpy bookstore owner who is simultaneously annoyed and charmed by clueless steve who is obvi not a reader, but keeps coming in. Billy’s clueless why the pretty keeps coming in. robin is not clueless!

(ao3)

“Fuck.”

Billy shook out his hand, just dropped a large box of books on his fingers.

“Dumbass.” Robin was perched at the counter, leafing lazily through some indie zine her friends made.

“You know you could, like, help.” Billy shot her a glare as she rolled her eyes, leaving him and his smushed little hand to shelve the new stock.

“No point in that, Boss.” Billy just kept sorting maneuvering himself through the narrow shelves to sort the new arrivals.

His bookshop had been open for about a month, and was doing well. He had a little cafe in the back corner, run by Heather and her baked goods. There was a second level to the shop he filled with squashy armchairs, and little tables. It had become a fairly popular spot with the kids from the local university as they studied, or avoided their studies with the books he had on the first level.

He had new and used books, had a trade-in program with book donations. It was warm in the little shop, sweet and cozy.

The bell above the door chimed.

“Hi, I was looking for Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals by Immanuel Kant.”

“You can find Billy, he’s in the stacks over there, and he should be able to help you better than I can.” Billy rolled his eyes, could hear the smile in her voice. He kept shelving, could hear the light footsteps approaching.

“Um, excuse me, I was told you can help?” Billy looked up, his breath hitching when he saw the guy. He was tall and lanky, slouching like he wanted to be small. He had all this messy brown hair, these big dark eyes behind his glasses.

“Kant, right?”

“Yep!”

“This is a good one. Have you read the Critique of Pure Reason? That book was pretty big for me, his thoughts on causation in relationship to time and experience were so new to me first time I read it.”

“Oh, it’s uh, it’s actually for a class. I’m not any good at this philosophy stuff.” Billy just smiled weekly. This guy was almost fucking perfect. He wandered over a few stacks to search.

“You at the university?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior. Just finishing up my generals and everything so I can graduate. I’m studying to be a teacher. Sorry, you probably don’t give a shit.” He had red splotches high on his cheeks.

“No, I always love talkin’ with new folks.” He smiled gently at the guy, reaching up for the book. “Immanuel Kant. Robin up front’ll take care ‘a you.” The guy fidgeted for a second, taking the book slowly.

“Thank you, I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Billy.” Steve waved at him, awkwardly and adorably.

-

Steve began coming in just about every other day.

He would say an awkward hello to Billy, would be all fidgety and weird, and retreat to the comfy second floor with a large iced latte, face red, mumbling to himself.

“He has a crush on you.” Robin was poking him over the counter. Steve had just high-tailed it up to work on his schoolwork after asking Billy how he was and looking so fond when Billy just said not so bad.

“Shut up, Rob.”

“He does. He’s in here almost every day, and gets so fucking nervous when talking to you. He wants to date you and kiss you.” She sang it at him, wiggling around a bit.

“Jesus Christ, Robin, he doesn’t. He’s a paying customer.”

“A paying customer that gets all cute and blushy when you two talk, and who never says more than three words to me.” Billy rolled his eyes, retreating to the back office.

She followed him, stomping loudly.

“At least admit you think he’s cute.”

“He’s fuckin’ adorable, but he said he’s not a big reader, and when I started talkin’ about Kant philosophies, his eyes got all big like that shit went way over his head. I don’t think we’d work out.”

“Just because someone doesn’t read and-slash-or comprehend eighteenth century philosophy, doesn’t make them not worthwhile.”

“It’s kind of a deal breaker for me, Rob.” She glared at him.

“You are so pretentious. He’s cute, and he seems sweet, what does it matter?”

“I just like intellectual types.”

“I fucking hate you.” She huffed, stomping back out into the shop.

-

“What in the hell?” Billy was up on the second floor, cleaning up the discarded coffee mugs and books left behind before closing. He heard muttering from the corner, looking to see Steve, tucked in a large armchair, frowning heavily at the book propped in his lap, something thick and heavy, probably for that philosophy class he’s been trudging through.

“You okay, Pretty Boy.” Steve slammed the book shut.

“Yeah I’m fine.” He began shoving his school work away, stuffing it roughly into his bag.

“Hey, whoa.” Billy plopped down across from him, taking one of Steve’s wrists in his own. “What’s wrong?” Steve whipped off his glasses, digging his thumbs into his eyes.

“It’s just been a long day, and my dyslexia gets so much worse when I’m tired, but this midterm is tomorrow and I need to study.”

“I didn’t know you were dyslexic.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot my button that says I’m dyslexic, ask me how!” Billy sat back, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. And my brain hurts.”

“You know we have audiobooks. There’s a whole selection in the back downstairs.” Steve looked up at him.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. We have tapes and CDs. Have a bunch of random stuff. You wanna take a look through it all?” Steve’s eyes were wide. He shoved his glasses back on, following Billy to the display.

They were sitting on the ground, going through the selection Billy had, Steve had found two of the books he needed for his philosophy class.

“Billy I’m heading out-” Robin stopped when she saw the two of them, sitting in a sea of tapes and CDs. “You do know we closed, like half an hour ago.”

“Holy shit. Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me to go! I would’ve gotten outta your hair.”

“Relax, Pretty Boy. I don’t mind stickin’ around. Don’t got much else goin’ on.” Robin was watching them with a smug look on her face, sitting in one hip.

“No I have to, I should go. I’ll, um, I’ll come back for these tomorrow.” He pressed the few he had selected into Billy’s hand, gripping his upper arm. “Thank you, Billy. It really means a lot to me.” He gave him a sweet smile, threw Robin a two-finger salute as he hefted his backpack, leaving the shop with a jingle.

Robin slapped Billy’s arm.

“He’s so hot for you, and you’re practically in love with him too, this is disgusting and gay.”

“Robin no homophobia in my store, please.” She laughed at him as they locked up, Billy cleaning up the mess of audiobooks.

-

“Hi, I brought you this.” Steve was wearing a soft sweater under a pair of overalls. He looked so soft and Billy wanted to cuddle him.

He was currently pushing a plastic container full of chocolate chip cookies over the counter.

“I wanted to say thank you for helping me last night, and I know there’s straight up a cafe that sells these in the back, and you could probably eat as many as you like because you own the whole place, but I thought it’d be nice and I bake when I’m stressed and ramble when I’m nervous, if you couldn’t already tell, but you’re really nice and I just wanted to do something nice for you, and I’m gonna shut the fuck up if you don’t mind.” He was bright red, his eyes darting around the shop, looking everywhere but at Billy.

“Thank you, Sweet Thing.” He took a cookie, taking a big bite out of it. “And I got your audiobooks on hold.” Steve giggled when Billy talked with his mouth full of cookie, rifling through his wallet to get cash for the CDs. “Your midterm was today, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I, you remembered.”

“You told me last night.” Steve shrugged.

“Sometimes people kinda tune me out.” Billy frowned, opened his mouth to say something in rebuttle but Steve plowed on. “I had the test today. I think it was okay, but it always goes either way with me. Sometimes I feel super good about it afterwards, but then I’ll straight up fail and sometimes it goes the other way, so I’m hoping ambivalence is key.”

“I think that sounds like a valid plan. Just keep your mind off it.”

“You read anything good lately.” Billy just gave him a look.

“Take in where we are, then get back to me.”

“I mean, you probably read a lot, but have you read anything good lately?”

“Define good.” Steve shrugged. One of the straps on his overalls fell off his shoulder. It was so cute.

“Like, engaging content.”

“That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Well, I know you probably read like, super smart stuff that goes way over my head. If we were talking about novels I would say, engaging plot, interesting rounded characters, all that shit, but you probably read, like, I don’t even fucking know.”

“I’m gonna let you in on my best kept secret.” He leaned into the counter a little. Steve’s eyes were bright as he leaned over the counter, shoving his nose right into Billy’s space. “I’m a sucker for classics.” Steve had this cute little half smile on his face.

“Like, Moby Dick?”

“Jesus, no. Nobody actually likes that book. I mean like, Pride & Prejudice and Emma and Wuthering Heights and Don Quixote.”

“I think I’ve heard of like, two of those.” He gasped a little, his eyebrows going up. “I have an idea! Would you recommend me audio books? Of all your favorites? I want to be able to like, talk about them with you.” His eyes were shining and bright, so excited to share these books with Billy, these books that mean the world to Billy.

“Sure thing, Pretty Boy. I’ll pick a new one out for you every week or so.” Steve hoped from foot to foot, wiggling and excited.

“I wanna do that! WE can have our own little bookclub. It’ll be so fun, we can like talk about your favorite books, and I’ll actually get it because I won’t have to be, like, translating the fucking wiggly words.” He was crackling with energy over this idea, it was making Billy excited.

And then Steve’s phone started going off in the chest pocket of the overalls. When he took it out Billy caught a glimpse of the name Nance.

“Sorry, this is my ex-girlfriend.” He smiled at Billy who’s heart dropped. “But I’ll be back tomorrow, if you wanna have a book ready for me!” He pushed the cookies closer to Billy with a Look, answering the phone as he awkwardly pushed open the door with his back, and a little hey, Nance!

“How was your boyfriend today?”

“Straight. He’s fucking straight.” Robin furrowed her brows.

“Sorry, there’s no way that boy is completely  straight.”

“He got a call from his ex-girlfriend. He’s fucking straight, and we’re gonna start a stupid bookclub thing because he wants to read my favorite books and he’s fucking straight.” Billy shoved the cookies away from him, taking up on of the heavy boxes of book donations, heaving it to be shelved.

Robin followed him to the stacks.

“Just because he had an ex-girlfriend doesn’t mean he’s straight, Billy. He could be bi, or pan, or fluid, or literally anything.” Billy just ignored he, kept shoving the new arrivals away. She sighed at his back. “Okay, asshole. Give him some queer book, like Orlando and see what he says about it.” Robin tromped away when Billy refused to answer.

-

Steve tripped on the door frame the next day.

He spilled out hard on the floor, smacking his chin and spilling paper. It was so fucking funny, but Billy stifled his laugh, and helped Steve up. His face was red, the flush spreading down his neck.

He took one look at Billy when he stood up, and walked right back out the door.

-

He gathered up the courage to come back in three days later.

“Watch yourself there, Pretty Boy.” Steve’s face went hot again.

“I’m so sorry about that. I was so fucking embarrassed, I had to go have a panic attack for like, six hours after that.” He gave a shaky little laugh. “I believe I was promised an audiobook?” Billy took it out from under the counter.

“Maurice, by E.M. Forster. It’s a gay classic about coming of age, and having to live in the closet, and being in love. It’s excellent.”

“Sounds like my fuckin’ life.” Billy stared as Steve just read the snippet on the back of the box.

“You gay?”

“Pan.” Steve said it easily, didn’t even look up from reading the box. Billy can hear Robin gloating in his head, saying that she’s right.

“Cool.” Steve gave him a weird look.

“You’re being weird.” Billy shrugged. Steve glanced at the large pride flag hanging in the window of the store, looking back at Billy with one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I’m a big ol’ homo. I’m really not being weird. I just didn’t know.” Steve reached out to push his shoulder.

“I’m kidding, Bill! Quit bein’ so grumpy.” Billy couldn’t help but smile when Steve was looking at him like that, was giggling at him like that.

-

When Steve finished the audiobook, they talked about it over hot tea after closing.

That became their ritual, Steve would get a book recommendation, would finish it in about four days, he’d stay after closing an they’d talk. The next day, he’d get a new one.

They began talking about more than just the books.

Steve was an incredibly easy person to talk to. Something about his big eyes made Billy want to open, to share his past.

He told Steve about his dad, just the tip of the iceberg, just the basic he’s a homophobic asshole. But then Steve told him he’d been kicked out of his house at eighteen, so Billy told him his father was physically abusive, and before he fucking knew it, they were both tearing up and connecting.

“Who’re you texting?” Robin snatched his phone, dancing out of his reach as she scrolled through the texts between him and Steve. “Oh my God, are you sure you two aren’t dating.” He ripped his phone out of her hands.

“Shut up, Robin.” He stormed to the back office, his refuge whenever Robin started bugging him.

“No. You two have been doing this dance for months. You two have your own special bookclub. You need to ask him out.”

“I just don’t wanna assume anything and fuck up this friendship. I don’t have very many friends, and i don’t wanna lose him. Just because he’s into guys doesn’t mean he’s into me.”

“Billy you’re hot. And me, a whole lesbian, telling you that means it’s true. I’ve seen the way he is around you. Remember when he fucking fell and had to leave immediately? He’s so hot for you and nervous rambles all the time. If you asked him out he would say yes.”

But Billy never actually got a chance to ask him out.

The same night Robin was bugging him Steve came slamming roughly into the shop.

“You okay?” Steve was quiet, something Billy had never seen in him.

“Just a bad day.” He sipped at the tea Billy had placed in front of him.

“You wanna talk about it?” Billy said at the exact same moment Steve looked right at Billy as said.

“You wanna go on a date with me?”

“Sorry, what did-” Billy ears were ringing.

“No, I didn’t say anything.” Steve was looking everywhere but Billy.

“No you asked me out.” He took a breath.

“Look, I really like you. Like a whole lot. And today was shit and the whole time I just kept thinking about how I wanted to see you, and talk to you about it, and I knew just walking in here and looking at you would make the whole awful day that much fucking better and I just wanna go on a date. With you.”

Billy’s mouth was open.

“Holy shit.” Steve was steadily going even more red.

“I’m sorry if I just fucked up this whole thing we had goin’ on-”

“No, I wanna go out with you. I really like you too.” Steve was still, and then he started wiggling, that excited little side to side he does.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Steve stood up, shaking and wiggling in the cutest little happy dance Billy has ever fucking seen.

“Oh my God. I’ve wanted to ask you out for like, months. I’m so excited.” He flopped back into his seat. “Okay but first, Animal Farm. I think the pig’s an asshole.”

Billy leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

[asoiaf-source]

Fighting Hate with more Hate. That always works, right?

“Sansa’s fans are so defensive of her because of the rest of the fandom demonize her and hate her for no reason.” - helenakey

So then the answer is to demonize the other women characters for no reason?

Of course there are going to be ‘fans’ that hate on a character for no reason, I’ve seen people post unnecessary and unreasonable hate on many of the characters, not just Sansa, and they can be as annoying, but they are not representative of the entire fandom. Not ALL fans are hating on her, and some are just looking at the character critically. I’m new to the tumblr metas (avoided for a long time due to the toxic reputation), but i’ve been on ASOIAF forums for a long time and there are plenty of Sansa supporters, even if she is still quite a polarizing character due to how people wish to interpret her... but Sansa stans on tumblr take it to the next level!

I’ve never seen this side of her fans before, or at least so much nearly every day, and subsequently the many rebuttals! And how often they like throwing other characters under the bus, often for hypocritical reasons. Like the OP yendany said, they ignore the trauma in other characters or dismiss it as not as bad, when it is often much, much worse. They criticize and attack other female characters to prop up Sansa ‘better’ survival skills, or attribute qualities to her she doesn’t possess (I see this a lot in fanfiction, before I realized the self-insert aspect), or use her age as excuse when all the main characters are young or even younger than her. The line porcelain to ivory to steel... can really apply to any character that has to grow up and face the harsh realities of the world... so it is really hypocritical to think Sansa is special in some way for overcoming her situation, all the characters are going through the same struggle, and many have it much worse. That is where I think so much of the anti-sansa stans come from, the hypocrisy and the tearing down of other just as deserving of sympathy/empathy characters, especially other women characters. It is a weird juxtaposition, that anyone with a reasonable sense of objectivity can pick up on and often do.

I mostly see it done against Arya and Dany, the two more prominent female characters in the books (thus the 2 who draw more focus than #3 Sansa?). The two female characters GRRM is telling a lot of his story through and spending a large amount of the text (right from book 1) to develop their growth as characters and showcase their strengths, intelligence, determination, fortitude, agency, cleverness, resilience and so much more. It’s as if because the other women are not ‘pure’ or see themselves that way and stronger in personality and character that somehow their suffering doesn’t affect them as much because they are tougher and didn’t let anything that happened to them stop them from growing stronger. They aren’t dwelling in victim-hood too long before they pick themselves back up and move forward.

And yet, they cheer when Sansa starts to grow stronger... Sansa’s growth has been much slower, we are moving into book 6 and she is just starting to gain a bit of agency, but she is still heavily under the tutelage of Baelish. We will see how far she gains in the next book and if she will break with Baelish by the end of it and be a fully independent player. But her development isn’t nearly on the same scale as Daenerys and Arya. That isn’t to imply that she isn’t going to be important, but it is clear from the text that she is not one of the main focuses for GRRM, or he would have developed her faster and given her more to do. We will see how much ground he can cover in 1-2 books, but there is only so much he will be able to accomplish and have it be believable, especially with so many POVs and story lines that he needs to develop.

I actually think their attempts to (over) defend her backfire, as so many feel the need to point out the falsehoods and misinterpretations, especially when they are wildly mean-spirited and completely refutable by the text. As I traverse through the ASOIAF metas I often come across fans metas writing rebuttals to other posts, to ‘correct’ their conclusion or ‘facts’. I’ve read so many of these they are starting to get repetitive, I also read some of the Sansa-stan posts they are rebutting and, yeah I can see why so many get upset. If you don’t like it when others tears down or dismisses Sansa, why do you think fans of the other characters wouldn’t comment when you go after their favs, especially so mean-spiritedly.

I don’t think I ever felt so much negativity towards the Sansa character until I had to read so many skewed and biased metas turning her into some kind of saintly YA Disney princess type that is just too good for this cruel world. That kind of character has no place in a series like this. You can’t help but want to point out the wild inaccuracies, and it makes me feel a negativity towards a character I didn’t feel negative to before. And I don’t want to feel negative towards her, she is a Stark and I root for the Starks, especially the kids. I often defended her against those who (I feel) just don’t understand what it is like to be a preteen girl, I relate to a lot of Sansa’s weaknesses and how she feels, especially at that age, and that is her appeal (to me) - the fact that she starts off very weak.

Sansa is weak both physically and mentally, she cares too much about rank, privilege, and what others think about her, her desire to conform, for everything to be proper, and properly in their place. She has the luxury to think that way because she is a rich, pretty, noble girl who ranks at the top of society, of course she sees life as great and never questions it... she is already at the top and winning from birth. This is why (I think) she is so hard on Arya, she messes with her idea of what is proper/good/right.  Arya isn’t pretty and doesn’t try to be, she acts more boy than girl, she plays with dirty, smelly, poor children, etc... Those are all an embarrassment to Sansa and go against what a proper lady of her rank should do and care about. Once they head south, all the things Arya gets away with at home will stand out even more and reflect badly on Sansa, by association. So, she criticizes and distances herself even more, because she wants to join the elite glamorous world of the nobility.

The other girls don’t have those weaknesses, that is why they are seen as better able to cope than Sansa does.  They grow quicker and stronger faster because they are not as inhibited by what the ‘rules’ are. This isn’t a criticism of Sansa, this is an observation and I think it is the entire point of including a character like her in the story. GRRM could have followed the original outline for her, but he wanted to ‘reform/rescue’ her character and give her (I hope) a better path back to her family and happiness. I think it is GRRMs way to show how young girls should NOT romanticize noble life or being pretty will lead to a ‘perfect’ life. That thinking of yourself as a lady or being a princess/queen isn’t what is important. That marring a ‘title’ (lord/prince) or a handsome face is not enough to lead to happiness. It is what you do with your life, and how you care about others and who cares about you - that is what is important. But some Sansa fans seem to miss that and want her to have all those thing and more... they want it both ways, her to learn all those things, and yet still get all those things... a beautiful princess life clear of the harsh actions to gain it and also a happy family married to the best, more heroic and honorable man - a fairy tale ending. And that is not ASOIAF.

They are reducing her entire arc to becoming a nicer, more pure, and pretty, prize for a man to love, marry and make their queen. If so, GRRM will botch the ending of his series and all the points he *seems* to be making thus far.

A major theme (to me) in Sansa arc is her lack of value in her home and family. Sansa (to me) is like the small town girl who can’t wait to leave her family / Winterfell behind and to move to the big glamorous city (King’s Landing) and become royalty. But once she got there wasn’t able to accumulate with its more complicated and corrupt realities of the court. Even setting the cruelty of Joffrey aside (he is an aberration, not a normal example), how everyone else ostracizes or ignores her (except the hound, and to some extent Tyrion - although he isn’t all that great). The way the Tyrells treat her before and after her wedding is much more representative of how typical court life and nobility behaves normally (I think). Sansa never saw the true value of being surrounded by people who love and care about YOU and whom you can trust and rely upon - until that is all taken from her. She slowly sees how the people at court are corrupt and deceitful under all the beauty and glamor she so aspired to only after being fooled more than once, and (to me) no longer wants any part of it, but is forced to play, thanks to Baelish.

This is a point I find many of her fan miss, they think Sansa is going to learn to play the game, destroy everyone with her cunning and beauty and rise to the top to be queen or a ruler - a path which will ultimately lead to down a very dark and cynical path... but somehow they think Sansa will be different, and her rise will be more like a Disney princess story, one where she will gain power without having to sink low to do it. That is NOT the kind of book GRRM is writing.

”I’ll make them love me.” - another childish statement, you can’t make people love you, you earn love and respect. And Sansa hasn’t done that once the entire series, she hasn’t made a single friend. No one is looking to follow or fight for/beside Sansa, save Baelish, and we all know that plan is doomed to fail, as he isn’t to be trusted or relied upon and wants to use her. I would even question her friendship with Jeyne Poole as it is clear she never saw them as equals, and that is not real friendship... more like Jeyne was a companion/lady-in-waiting type.

The few people who care about her (other than family) either are working on behalf of an oath to Catelyn, or have their own ambitions/sexual desires/pity for her and not necessarily care about her for herself because she was a good and loyal friend to them. Maybe this will change in the next book, but with Baelish keeping close tabs and guiding her, who knows how well she will be able to make any genuine relationships with others given all the secrets she has to keep.

Her only realistic path to leadership is through marriage and that is hardly giving her agency as a heroic rise to a leader of a men... more like sleeping her way to the top.  Not something I want for Sansa, and I hope her ‘marriage’ to Tyrion works as plot armor against her being used like that.

Besides GRRM has kinda stressed that ‘real’ leadership comes from understanding people, observation, and experience, and not just from strategics marriage (Margaery, Cersei) or inheritance (Joffrey, Tommen, Cersei - she could prove the point all on her own :). Every leader in the book so far has to make compromises, make hard decisions and even make harsh, sometimes very bad decisions and live with those consequences. None of the characters in the series have escaped this as much as Sansa has, since so much of her story thus far is about her lack of agency, and being a pawn used by others (and to some extent she still is with Baelish). For her to make it to the end w/o doing anything and staying ‘pure’ and that is how she ends up on top, by essentially not taking many large personal risks, allowing others to do all the heavy lifting morally, mentally and physically. If winning means standing on the sidelines watching everyone else do the WORK, and just giving suggestive nudges here and there to have things turn out in your favor so you can just coast to the top (that is the Baelish way)... well, that is kinda the worst message GRRM could leave us with.

If GRRM wants Sansa to become a leader, she will have to get her hands dirty too, she will have to take great personal risks to gain power and accept the consequences good or bad that result, learn from them and move forward... otherwise it defeats one of the main points of his series and turns her into a simplistic cliche version of a character.  Every character with a POV has gone through this, it is one of the major themes in ASOIAF, a more realistic, less easy way of looking at how you obtain power and learn by experience and a series of victories and defeats. Thus far Sansa has also avoided examining her actions and how they have affected her, she either never thinks about them, changes the facts to suit her better, or blames others without seeing the part she also played... I’m not blaming her, but her action did contribute to the situation... she never seems to realize this and I feel it is going to eventually hit her hard, she has to mature and grow out of her ‘unreliable narrator’ eventually, and it must lead to something for GRRM to make it such a large part of her narrative of coping with her trauma. I assume he wrote her this way for a reason and is going to do something with it.

I’m looking forward to a darker more realistic Sansa who has more agency and understanding, and I expect her to make her own mistakes and moral compromises (well she already has, but there was some coercion - but it also means she is capable of doing so) just like all the other POVs have had to do. I also look forward to her finally owning up to her past actions and how they also contributed to where she is now. If she can’t take some personal responsibility she will never grow. That is a part of having agency, understanding how your decisions and actions affect you and others.

I wish all the back and forth would stop, cause I’m tired of seeing it in my feeds, but I guess it has been going on for years - the same arguments/rebuttals - so I guess it will continue, even after we get the next book... I think only the completion of the entire series will end some of these arguments, but who knows - after some of the meta I’ve read, there will probably be even more, lol.

Well, I wanted to comment and give my two cents, but it ended up being longer and I guess for me all this is still new and offsetting.  I guess I had more to say that I thought, even though I edited A LOT out because I wanted to keep it focused. I’ve just started to dip my toes into this crazy platform, so I’m sure this is just the tip of the toxic metas that I heard can be found here... can’t wait to read the anti-dany metas... that is sure to fill me with a sad rage as well, i know the show did her no favors, sigh....

[subdee]

The fact that both Gon and Killua are currently spending time with female family members who have also felt the sting of abuse/neglect from the same family members who have abused/neglected Gon and Killua says something. But I'm not sure what to make of it. But both Alluka and Mito have missed them and even though I'm sad they're not together at the moment (even though I know Togashi plans to reunite them eventually) I'm happy that they are reconciling with Alluka and Mito.

Personally, I like to connect it to Togashi probably being busy with work / drawing Hunter x Hunter on an insane weekly schedule for a lot of his own kids’ early lives, and putting most of the childcare burden on his wife during this time.  But that’s just speculation, obviously XD. 

Yeah, it is interesting that they both leave female family members at home to go adventuring, isn’t it?  That part is kind of the classic Hero’s Journey, the boy has to leave home to become a man.  We expect this kind of journey, with the set up that Hunters are adventurers and thrill-seekers. 

Ending up back at home again at the end is a bit of a subversion actually.  Killua and Gon don’t return home as heroes, but Killua is in that rescuer role to Alluka and Gon almost doesn’t come back by choice.

Gon actually says, in a manga chapter that happens after the last episode of the anime, that if he’d still had nen when he and Ging met at the World Tree, he probably would have been tempted to go with him.  So his arc, homecoming, is a kind of humbling for him.  Now he has to face the consequences of his choices  - literally, he has to face all of the schoolwork that’s piled up in his absence XD.  Mito is just happy to have him back and safe though, but I think eventually he’ll leave home again and she probably knows that too. 

I don’t know if I’d say Aunt Mito was abused or neglected, BTW, but she definitely expresses to Gon that Ging abandoned her - he leaves her behind to become a Hunter and doesn’t even come home when her parents die - and that’s a big reason why she’s always badmouthing him to Gon - it’s as much her trauma as it is Gon’s trauma.

But I think Gon knows this (”I can always tell when you’re lying”) and ultimately, you know, she’s just trying to do right by Gon while also carrying her own burdens.  And on some level she probably realizes that she should cool it on badmouthing Ging in front of Gon because, I mean,  look at this:

For Killua, I wrote about it before -  here - that he actually finds himself in a parental, caretaker role with Alluka, so that’s really  a subversion of the shounen jump “friendship, hardwork, victory” model because being someone’s guardian and just being there for them and supporting them is not inherently glorious.  He’s giving up fame and fortune to take care of someone else and (in the fandom view, anyway) lie low and be an ordinary person for a while.

Of course, that was his goal when he left home too - just to be an ordinary kid.

So where you said “female family members who have also felt the sting of abuse/neglect from the same family members who have abused/neglected Gon and Killua” this really comes home for him too, because he has issues with how he was controlled by his family so now he has to avoid making those same mistakes with Alluka...

I think what it ultimately means is that Hunter x Hunter is a story about growing up, and part of growing up into a good person is finding a balance, and being able to own up to your own mistakes and apologize for them... and the story is kind of forcing both of them to grow, in a different way from the usual shounen jump “train to get stronger” way, by putting them in this situation where they have to make amends to the women they left behind.

I think it shows that as much as there’s value in being out in the world and proving yourself and proving your strength, there’s also value in being at home and being domestic and being there for your loved ones.

Also, it’s about female characters - even if they aren’t out adventuring with the boys - having their own thoughts and desires and inherent value.  

At the same time though... I mean this isn’t exactly the gripping stuff of weekly action comics LOL.  Hence Gon and Killua, and their wholesome reconnecting and spending quality domestic time with family stories, being offscreened at the moment. 

Anyway, this ask was very lovely and thank you so much.   

[mss4msu]

Call Me Doctor. (Chapter 20)

Summary: Fresh out of graduate school, you had somehow landed a spot in the faculty of a prestigious university. The small anthropology department has too many faculty and too few offices; sharing an office does not go as you expected.

Pairing: Professor!Steve x Professor!Reader 

Words: 1543

Warnings: ANGST IS BACK BABIES

A/N: Picture that photo of the “you know I had to do it to ‘em” guy and that’s me writing this lmao

Catch Up on the Story Here

“Please enjoy the exhibit,” you managed to choke out with a gesture to the space behind you. 

As the crowd began to swarm towards the exhibit, you made a bee-line for the bar. Your mind was racing with what your next steps should be; Should I warn Steve? Should we just get out of here? Do I go up to her first? Do I avoid everyone and hide in the bathroom all night?

You hurriedly asked for a drink and immediately downed it. As the bartender refilled your glass, you felt a tap on your shoulder and your stomach flipped. You looked up to see Steve smiling at you. 

“That went well!” he enthusiastically told you. 

You took a deep breath, “Yeah…. Hey, Steve, there’s something I need to tell you,” you took another breath, “Sha--”

“(Y/N)! Steve!” The sound of Loki’s voice interrupted you.

You turned around and were met with the sight of Loki coming towards you, walking arm-in-arm with Sharon. Your heart sank when you hazarded a glance at Steve who looked like he was going to be sick; all of the color had completely left his face. 

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, “Hi, Loki,” you put on as cheery a smile as you could manage in an attempt to save face, “And Sharon, what a surprise!” 

Sharon put her hand out and you hesitantly extended your own to shake hers. She stayed linked to Loki as she shook your hand vigorously. 

“I know! Huge surprise,” she laughed, “But when Loki here,” she put her hand on his chest in a way that made you slightly wince with disgust, “Told me all of the big work you were doing, well I couldn’t not come to see it in person!”

Steve looked like he was going to throw up, and you resisted your urge to lead him away as fast as you could. 

“Steve, you know Sharon don’t you?” Loki interjected gleefully, his eyes glimmering with malice. 

“Yes,” Steve’s voice was barely over a whisper and acknowledging Sharon seemed to bring him physical pain. 

Fearful of what would happen if you all stayed there any longer, you quickly made up an excuse, “Oh shoot! It looks like James is waving us over. As you probably know, Steve and I worked on the exhibit together, so I’m sure he needs us to go answer some questions. So sorry,” you raised your eyebrows at Steve and he nodded sheepishly in agreement. 

“Alright, bye! We’ll find you again later!” Sharon’s cheery voice grated at your ears and the laugh Loki gave as you and Steve walked away was like nails on a chalkboard. 

“What the fuck was she doing here?” Steve growled once you were far enough away to be out of their earshot. 

“Steve, I don’t know and I was trying to warn you because I saw her in the crowd right at the end of my little speech,” you grabbed his arm to stop him and held on until he finally made eye contact with you, “Steve, I really didn’t know she was going to be here.”

He took a deep breath, “I know. It’s fine, I’m fine,” the slight softening of his eyes made you almost believe he was telling the truth, “Did James really want us?”

“No,” you hazarded a light chuckle, “Just needed to get out of the danger zone.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than a very out of breath James suddenly appeared next to you.

“Speak of the devil…” your smile fell as you saw the look on James’s face.

“You’re never going to believe this!”

Steve inhaled deeply, and you could tell he was preparing for the worst. You sent up a quick prayer to Horus as James opened his mouth again. 

“The news is here, like the actual news, not the cheesy University newspaper, and Tony is currently giving an interview about how he took on this huge project himself. He’s saying he planned the exhibit, did the installation, and set up this whole party.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That’s all?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘that’s all?’ That’s some bullshit! I did not spend 20 minutes hanging that damn sign for this erasure. I don’t care if he doesn’t give you pleebs any credit, but I deserve better.” 

“You’re right, James, that is some bullshit for you,” Steve let out a low chuckle. 

“Damn straight! I wonder if Nat knows he’s doing this,” James looked around the room trying to spot her, “What fuck?” he muttered before quickly turning back to you and Steve. 

“What?” you asked hesitantly. 

James looked pale, “Noth--nothing.”

“Buck, we know,” the sound of defeat in Steve’s voice broke your heart. 

“Why?”

“That we don’t know.”

You stood there in silence, wishing you had something you could say to make everything better or to just make Sharon go away. 

“Fuck, man.”

“Yup.”

“And why is she with him?” James emphasized the last word with an incredible level of disgust. 

“Make me Department Chair if I’m wrong, but I think he invited her here.”

“Why would Loki do that?” you asked naively. 

James and Steve both rolled their eyes at you, and then looked at each other as if daring the other to answer. 

Steve apparently won, as James growled, “Because he’s a piece of shit.”

“James!” Sharon squealed from behind you causing you to jump slightly and interrupting any further questions. 

“Haha, what the fuck,” James muttered to you with a fake smile before turning to greet the intruder, “Oh Sharon! What a surprise, what brings you here?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying and that seems to be the question on everyone’s mind. Haha! I’m here to see the work of (Y/N) of course. She was my brightest student, as I’m sure you’ve already found out.”

“Yes, we have,” Steve said, you couldn’t help feeling proud when noticing how he slightly puffed out his chest when answering. 

Sharon’s face fell briefly, but she soon recovered, “Anyway, I’m here for the week, so maybe we can all go out for dinner to celebrate her achievements? And mine too!”

“You have achievements too?” you tried not to sound snarky, but you were genuinely taken aback. 

“Why of course! You don’t think I’d be invited here to lecture if I hadn’t done any relevant work do you?” Sharon said all of this with a tinkling laugh. 

“Invited...to...lecture…?” James asked slowly. 

“Oh, Jamie, I mean, of course I wanted to support you all, but you don’t really think I would’ve flown all the way here just for...this...do you?” She waved her hand nonchalantly around. 

A fake smile spread on your own lips at the backhandedness of Sharon’s words, “So where are you lecturing?” you tried to keep your voice even and not let the anger beginning to bubble inside of you escape. 

“This is so funny that you all don’t know. I’m lecturing here! I think Loki called it the ‘Friday Lecture’ or something trivial like that? Apparently (Y/N) started off the season, so Loki thought it would be just precious if I were to end it, and I totally agree. It’s a fabulous opportunity.”

While Steve had been white as a sheet on his first run in with Sharon, looking at him now he was beet red. You wanted to grab his hand to reassure him, but you stopped yourself. 

 “Really Sharon? It’s a fabulous opportunity?” Steve sneered at her, disdain dripping from his words.

“Aww Stevie, you’re not still upset about what happened all those years ago, are you?” Sharon asked, sticking out her lower lip in a faux pout and tapping him on the chest. 

“Fuck you, Sharon,” Steve spat before turning on his heel and leaving the room. 

“Hahaha, poor Stevie, still not over the heartbreak I guess? Did you know we use to go out, (Y/N). Of course, I was too successful for him and he was threatened, so I just had to break it off.” 

Of course, you thought to yourself, anger bubbling inside of you at the way she talked about Steve.

“Go to hell, Sharon,” James snapped, “(Y/N), I think Natasha needs us in the exhibit.”

“Really, Jamie??” Sharon called out in mock disappointment. 

James didn’t give her a second look as he took you by the hand and lead you away. 

“James, I want to go check on Steve.”

“Not now, (Y/N). Trust me.” 

You yanked your hand away, “James. I have to go check on Steve.” 

James saw the look in your eye and gave you a nod. You ran out of the exhibit and out of the building. You were shocked to find yourself in the middle of a downpour. 

Fucking great, you thought to yourself as you scanned your surroundings for any sign of Steve. 

You heard the sound of an engine revving and ran to the edge of the sidewalk, searching for Steve.

“STEVE!!” you screamed out as a motorcycle drove past you. 

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even look at you. He just drove away into the dark and stormy night. Under the cover of the rain, you broke down and began to cry.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

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