#and ill almost DEFINITELY be changing names n stuff

[inkyycapp]

| rayman, ramon & raymesis x reader.

| relationship hcs.

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

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

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

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

(soh/game)rayman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

raymesis.

[middle child energy.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

raymesis doesn't like christmas trees.

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

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

he definitely bites. a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(superiority complex.)

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

ramon.

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

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

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

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

honestly, very romantic.

he loves fruit, and chocolate covered fruit too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

another terrible sleep schedule. like absolutely horrendous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

| the end.

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

[wonsohl]

sunset boulevard y.jw

PAIRING: crush!jungwon x admirer!reader

it was the summer holidays and your school hosted a camping trip for the juniors going into their last year of school - senior year.

this year the camping trip would be held at jeju island near the beach.

when the word got out that the trip would be held at jeju, everyone was screaming and jumping up and down out of excitement and so were you.

you ran home with the letter in your hand which was almost crumpled up from you gripping on to it so hard and barged through the door.

''ma! this year's camping trip for the juniors is at jeju island! can you even imagin-''

'woah there sweetie! speak slower the camping trip for the juniors is gonna be held where now?" she says whilst laughing at your goofyness

''jeju island ma! isn't that so exciting?"

'it sure is hun." she says as you hand over the letter to her with the biggest smile/ grin on your face

"can i go? pretty please? ill take care of our restaurant and do the dishes there for the whole week and even mop the floo-"

"y/n you can go! you don't have to do stuff out of your way to help me but a little help on saturday night would be good!"

"saturday?" you say taking of your school i.d and placing your coat on the coat hanger.

"whats the occasion ma?"

"mrs yang has a reserved dinner at our restaurant and i would look you to be their waitress - oh! and she has a boy in your year, yang jungwon?"

you eyes bulge out of their sockets when you hear his name.

yang jungwon.

hottest guy on earth.

cutest living organism.

THE most jaw dropping piece of art ever to be made.

"y/n? whats got to your mind, do you know yang jungwon?"

"o-oh yeah ma, he is in my classes" you say smiling back to your mom reassuring that you were okay.

"oh that's lovely! are you two friends?'

friends? yeah, no.

everyone knows you liked him ever since your ex bestfriend snaked on you to everyone in your year.

she even had the AUDACITY to tell her sister to spread around in the older years as well.

ever since you barely to talk to him and make any signs of communication knowing how awkward it would be.

you can't bare the sight of him but you still have that crush on him and from time to time when your zoning out in lessons and your teacher call you out for it, niki would have the gut to say -

'oh sir! she's day dreaming about jungwon!'

which would of course get everyone laughing and even the teacher.

jungwon would always look at you and you would avoid eye contact and just get flustered.

"u-uh we definitely know eachother ma!"

"just wonderful y/n! i also heard he is quite a charming one huh? why don't you start something? " she says laughing.

she wasn't lying he was definitely charming obviously but to speak to him after 10 months with not talking? that would be awkward.

"haha ma! your so funny, i should get back to my room and start doing some homework" excusing yourself from the very awkward situation whilst getting the letter back from the counter which was already signed by your mom.

you ran upstairs can close your door lightly but enough to hear the door slamming sound.

"what a weird child" your mom says

TIME SKIP | SATURDAY ⏰

one hour before jungwon came to your restaurant you hop out of the steaming shower and dried your hair and got change into your uniform and put on some makeup

"y/n! let's head out now"

you yell back a okay and do a few touches to your hair and put on some jewellery.

you run down the stairs almost tripping pick up your bag and throw in your headphones and a water bottle with a small bar and make your way out the door

you open the car door and slam it shut

"you look nice today your mom says" pushing past your hair to admire her beautiful child

you pause whilst doing your seatbelt and smile back to your mom

"thanks ma!" you say hoping she won't ask the reason you randomly decided to apply make up on.

you guys share awkward glances before she puts on the radio and you text your friends

eunji 🦋: y/n how is the whole jungwon restaurant fiasco? 👀

you: girl i just got in my car and i my mom is blasting country music

minhee 🐈: did you put on the make up i bought you for your birthday?? 😊😊 (say yes rn before i storm in to that restaurant and put it on for you)

you: dayum girl dw i did and i think i did it good lemme show you it *insert pic of you

eunji 🦋: BRO IF I WAS JUNGWON I WOULD GO ON MY KNEES AND PULL OUT A RING

minhee 🐈: FFRRR Y/N WEAR THIS TO SCHOOL AND YOU MIGHT AS WELL PULL THE WHOLE POPULATION OF THE SCHOOL ATP 🤤

eunji 🦋: ↳ minhee 🐈: INCLUDING THE GIRLS AS WELL

minhee 🐈: ↳ eunji 🦋: EXACTLY TELL US HOW EVERYTHING GOES!!!

you laugh at how funny your friends are and your mom notices it.

"sweetie get out all your laughs and goofynees now because we are here"

those words repeat in your head

we.

are.

here.

the past four nights have been sleepless because of today and here you are

you nod to your mom and quickly type something in the groupchat

you: YEA YEA IM HERE NOW SO I GTG BYEE

you get out of the car and put some lip balm on and run your hand through your hair

you barely work and your mom's restaurant because of how many workers there are but it looks like her waiter went on holiday the perfect time jungwon's parents reserved a table.

the time was 6:11 PM and jungwon's family was coming at 6:15 PM

you run to the bathroom lock yourself in their and practice your welcomings to your costumers.

"hello! welcome to ma's kitchen, the best in gwangdo! what's on your plate today?"

no thats to enthusiastic

"hey peeps! welcome to ma's kitchen, wanna dine in?"

ew, if was the costumer i would laugh right in my face

"hello~! welcome to ma's kitchen. what would you like to orde-

a knock from the bathroom's door interrupts you and touch up your makeup and leave.

"your mom would like you to greet the costumers in since the yang family will be coming here

she checks her watch

"now"

you bow down and say thank you before heading your way to the desk near the enterance.

you where on your phone tapping through people's story when you hear the entrance bell ring.

you drop your phone on the desk and make your way to the entrance to see jungwon and his family.

"oh my! y/n baby~ your so tall and your so pretty you look so grown as well!" she says cupping your face as you laugh it off

you could see mr yang and jungwon staring at you two but mr yang's glare was much more softer than jungwon's

did i do something wrong? you thought

you hand them the menu and bring them towards their seats

"would you like to order any drinks for now?"

mr yang nods his heads "yes, can i get 2 beers for the olders and jungwon?

can i get some sprite?"

you nod but you only look at mr yang

"so 2 beers and 1 sprite?"

this time you look at all three of them for their confirmation and they say yes

you smile back and leave the table and make your way too the bartender

'hajun, i need two beers and one spirte please' you say handing him over the piece of paper

'coming right up' he says snatching the peice of paper as you head back to the desk greeting the other guess as today was the weekend meaning lots of costumers would be coming in today

as you greet the next costumer you see a familiar face

kang seola

the one who snaked on you to the whole year and the year above

yeah no chance you were serving her, on top of that allowing her to enter your mom's restaurant

she was with a few other friends who weren't from your school as you couldn't recognise their faces

you had to options

A) choose to serve them and get the money you needed for your ' pay check' - didn't benefit you

B) slam the door on their faces and put them on the restaurants blacklist - definitely benefitted you

or

C) get another waitress to serve them - benefitted you/ but wasn't better than option B

'hello welcome to ma's restaurant, please wait here for another waiter to serve you shortly' you say smiling at them sarcastically whilst tellin a waiter to serve them

you go up to the bartender who hands you the drinks that jungwon and his family ordered and you make your way there

you hand them their drinks and they say thank you one by one

'another waiter will come around to serve you your food, sorry for the delay today is very hetic' you say as you hand out the menus and bow down as an apology

'oh no darling it's okay! were just having a chat take your time hun' says mrs yang patting your shoulder reassuring you that they don't mind the wait.

you smile back and make your way to the desk again when you feel a water get splash all over your uniform

your top is drenched in liquid and the glass shattered all over the floor near your once dry shoes

you look up to see seola and her friends laughing sheepishly as stare at you innocently

"oops i spilt something, be a good waiter and clean it up''

you wanted to shout at her so bad but you couldn't as it would freak the costumers and that was the last thing you wanted to happen for your mom and her business

you sigh and get on your knees swooping up the broken glass shards and individually placing them into a paper bag to later throw away

you could hear her taking photos of you from the loud shutter sound from her phone

you feel your eyes brimming with tears as your vision gets blurry when you feel the hand of someone else help you collect the shards

it was jungwon

you look at him but he's too busy collecting the remaining glass shards and after he's done he scoops it in a bag and gives it to you

of course you had a crush on him for a reason but today it felt like you got a crush on him for a second time

his hair was slightly ruffled , long enough to cover his perfect eyes and his choice of style is so cliché but it suits him so much

you can't help yourself but blush from jungwon's sudden action as you stood up to put the bags that was full broken glass to the dustbin outside of your restaurant

you could hear footsteps following you so looked behind to see jungwon following you from behing with his hands formed into a little bowl carrying some broken glass that was left behind

"uh jungwon! aren't you hands bleeding from the broken glass? I don't think you should be holding on to them you could get scars?" you say quickly placing the bags on to the pavement floor an rushing over to jungwon with one of your peppa pig plasters to cover the big scar on his palm

once done you collect the broken glass bags from jungwon's hand and throw them into the bin along with the trash bin with all your might

you turn around to see jungwon staring at you, you feel abit embarrassed to see your life long crush see you do all that whilst looking like a mess

'y/n i wan-'

jungwon gets cut of by the slam of the back door being pushed open

'oh y/n! are you hurt sweetie? i should've of known that those girls that were coming in were eunji and her mean group!'

'mom i'm oka-'

'look at the state of you! you should go home and get pack for that trip you have with your school, just take care of yourself and freshen up okay?'

says your mom cupping your cheeks whilst bringing you inside leaving jungwon outside by himself

your mom helps you take of the apron and sends you to the changing room whilst she calls your sister to come pick you up

after getting changed you make your way out from the staff entrance waiting for your sister to arrive whilst scrolling through your phone when you hear your mom bid goodbye to mr and mrs yang

'thank you so much for coming in! i would love too see you guys again soon!'

'nonsense! thank you for the amazing company and food! see us as a frequent customer' mr yang says mrs yang laughs with him.

'y/n! come here and say goodbye to our customers properly!' your mom says putting the attention on you as your make your way to them

'thank you for coming' you say bowing down to jungwon's parents whilst making eye contact with jungwon in between

'wow your daughter is so pretty!' says mrs yang turning around to look jungwon

'y/n perhaps are you going to the camping trip? ' says mrs yang whilst patting down jungwon

'oh uh , yes i am' you say with a hint of confusion in your tone

'do you reckon you can look after jungwon?i don't trust him by himself for so long, please make sure he eats properly there!'

'mom' says jungwon irritated at her comment

'jungwon, your mother is trying to help you out son! plus, y/n looks mature enough to take care of you!' says jungwon's mum hitting his arm playfully

'don't worry mrs yang, my daughter will take care of your handsome son' your mom says smiling back at them

they continue to talk until your sister comes to pick you up in her car

'take care y/n, thank you for serving us today' says mr yang smiling at you as your mom opens the door

'thank you, bye mr and mrs yang - bye jungwon, bye mum!' you say waving from the window

⏰ DAY OF SKL TRIP

'y/n i don't now how you managed to be so calm with her acting like that' eunji says still annoyed at the fact that seola would do that

'trust me i bet she wasn't but mr lover boy was there so she had to be all mysterious' minhee laughs will saying it

'okay that's true but if he wasn't i would've dragged her out of that restaurant myself'

'yeah yeah'

'mhm of course you deffo would've'

eunji and minhee tease you for a bit before leaving the bathroom and going to the coach

'okay everyone i will list your partners recommended by your own parents' says your teacher

everyone bursts into whines and moans

'wait recommended by our parents, that means i'm gonna be with seungji' eunji throws a tantrum knowing she's not gonna sit next to her own twin brother for 6-7 hours straight

'HELL NAH IM GONNA SIT NEXT TOO MY NEIGHBOUR' minhee receives a message from her dad saying she's sitting with her neighbour's emo kid

'wait guys i might have to sit with jungwon'

you starts panicking remembering what his mother said

'oh shit, good luck then' eunji dashes off and minhee follows screaming

'better not mess up!'

eunji and minhee were in a different coach so you had to wait for jungwon to come on the coach with you

you start panicking

god this is so awkward

what were you going to do, either way you would’ve had to sit in a packed coach with jungwon for at least 3 hours

you prayed and prayerd that you could be there before him

but i guess your prayers didn’t work

jungwon was standing at the coach on his phone almost as if waiting for someone

waiting for you

‘jungwon, hi!’

you say running over

‘sorry for being so late, i guess i got caught up with something’

he laughs abit and puts his phone in his back pocket

‘it’s okay, let’s hop on the coach, im pretty sure all the good seats are left’

you guys quickly scramble on the coach squeezing through the tight path in the middle of the coach

‘look y/n, over there’

he points to some seats at the back of the bus - ish

there not the best seats but they are the only ones left

you quickly waddle over and take a seat near the window, jungwon following right behind

you put your headphones in settle in, cancelling the loud shouts of your classmates

jungwon goes on his phone and you can’t help glancing over

‘if you want anything you can just tap me’

‘thanks jungwon,will do!’

you say quickly and lean your head against the window closing your eyes hoping for the ride to go smoothly

you also can’t stop thinking about jungwon being right next to you but you start noticing your eyes getting heavier and heavier

you fall asleep but dream about the camping trip ahead

a/n: AHHH OMG IM BACK WADDA 🫡🫡 skl has been so stressful but dw guys the actual camp trip thingy will be out soon (hopefully 🤗🤗) I get tired so easily and sometimes forget i have a tumblr acc anyway bye bye - 4 now 👹👹

[pochipop]

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — LET ME PAINT YOUR SKIES (MOIRA X READER).

#. synopsis! — moira, a frustrated geneticist in the throes of an impossible war against her superiors, meets a despondent young artist drowning sorrows at the bar. as it turns out, the latter is a particularly good listener, and the former is the type of woman you’ve only met in your wildest dreams .

#. characters! — moira .

#. warnings! — light angst, mentions of alcohol consumption, extreme slow-burn .

#. word count! — 11.7k .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — sorry i've been gone so long, got busy w/ school and irl stuff :// feel free to hmu to play overwatch lol (i swear i'm not ass all the time!!) anways, moira kissers, this one's for you!!

This place is as rundown and decrepit as they come these days, —a hole-in-the-wall type of establishment with old, creaky stools and paint that chips off into the drinks from time to time. Fruit flies are more regular than most customers, and they provide little bits of extra protein to those either too wasted to fish them out of their shots or unfortunate enough to not notice them. It's incredible that this place hasn't been permanently shut down, actually, with health and safety hazards galore. . . And yet, despite all its undeniable (and very obvious) flaws, you quite like it here. It's where you come when you're stuck in a rut and need to drink away some sadness.

Sure, it's not the healthiest of habits, but everyone has their vices. This is yours, —but it's an occasional thing, for the most part. You go months at a time without so much as glancing in the direction of any alcohol whatsoever, and most times when you indulge, it's more of a social thing than that of a desire to get plastered. Unfortunately, old habits die hard, as they say, and being an artist has its ups and downs. The highs are more intoxicating than any alcoholic beverage could ever be, but the lows hit you like a semi truck. They claw at your ankles and pull you down into the depths so mercilessly, as if feeding on your sorrow is the feast of a lifetime.

Thus, here you are again for the first time since mid-November of the prior year. It's been roughly five months since you've sat on this stool, ordering shots from the grumpy bartender who never remembers your name and doesn't care much about conversing with his customers. This time, however, a fresh face stands out to you. She'd come in when you were still nursing a whiskey on the rocks, insisting that tonight would be different, that you wouldn't leave with your head all foggy or your balance thrown completely off. You've since changed your stance on that, of course, —as one simply does when they're wrung dry of artistic inspiration and turn to seeking some sort of haven in an unhealthy vice.

Still, the woman at the other end of the bar has your full attention, even if she hasn't realized it yet. Even from her slouched position you can see that she's quite tall, —and equally as thin. She's dressed in more formal attire than yourself, a starkly white button-up and a pair of black dress pants as opposed to your own ill-fitting jeans and a greyish-blue sweater you'd picked up simply because it was seventy-five percent off. It's certainly comfortable, but stylish is most definitely up for debate.

Her foot taps against the bar counter, the toe of her black flats ringing out in little thumps that nobody seems to notice but you. She swirls a shot glass in her elegant hand, —her long, lithe fingers adorned with lengthy nails all painted a uniform shade of violet. Strands of short, ginger hair fall over her forehead, clearly unstyled after a long day. Whatever she's going through, you're sure it isn't pleasant for her to have ended up here alone on a Thursday night. Even so, you silently wonder if she's aware of just how attractive she is. In a sense, she's almost ethereal to you, with her extended limbs and sharp lines. . .

You reach for a napkin and are pleasantly surprised when the rusted dispenser sitting loose just a seat away isn't completely empty as it usually is by this time of night. Digging in your bag for a moment, you find an old ballpoint pen buried at the bottom. You try to take something to write or sketch with wherever you go, —but sometimes you still find yourself wholly unprepared for when inspiration strikes.

It takes a bit of scribbling before the ink begins to flow. Even then, it's rather choppy and doesn't come out in a smooth line. But, it's the best you have on hand, and so you're sure to use it to your advantage in whatever way possible (which isn't many.) Your gaze flickers between the woman at the end of the bar and the napkin you're sketching her likeness on in inconsistent ink. It's certainly rough, but it's the first thing you've drawn all week that you haven't felt the urge to light on fire, so you're considering this a win. 

You get a little carried away with the shading and the general environment, adding flowers that aren't there and little markings all around for some additional texture and pizzaz.

"Interesting," a low-toned, curious voice says from just over your shoulder.

You startle at the sudden interruption, nearly scribbling a horrendous line across the center of your sketch. The woman had been so silent in her move, (or perhaps you'd just been too engrossed to hear her make her way over) that you were left flinching under her looming shadow.

She seems fittingly confident for the aura she gives off, —like some kind of CEO.

"Uh. . . Sorry," you apologize, hoping the mood won't become too awkward. "This must seem pretty weird."

This is pretty weird, actually, and you can acknowledge that much. After all, when someone trudges to the bar late at night, it's not as if they go there expecting that some equally as frustrated stranger will see them and be unable to resist the urge to sketch their likeness on a painfully thin napkin.

"I've seen weirder," she replies, —and though you don't ask for examples of that, you're rather curious about what she'd give as some.

She sits next to you now, on the bar stool just to your left. Her knee brushes against yours as she does so. 

"You're an artist then, I presume?" She asks without missing a beat.

You nod, letting your pen drop to the bartop, giving her your full attention now. Something about her demands it (not that you're complaining.)

"Yep," you answer, though you can't bring yourself to sound particularly stoked by that admission at the moment.

She takes notice of that much too quickly for having just met you.

"You don't seem very pleased about it," she notes. "Trouble in paradise, perhaps?"

An Irish accent clings to her words; not a heavy one, all things considered, but more than enough to be obvious. It's quite attractive.

"Yeah, something like that," you say with a bitter laugh, —one directed more at yourself than her statement. "Nothing I'd want to bore you with."

She hums in acknowledgement, not trying to pry anything out of you that you aren't readily willing to share. That makes you like her all the more. 

"I understand that quite well," she seems to sigh. "I'm a geneticist, —seasoned and well-ingrained in my field."

That makes sense. She speaks with an air of confidence that you assume comes with not only age, but experience, and it's clear she's well-educated.

"Yet here I am, constantly being pestered and questioned by those around me," she complains. "They insist upon checking and checking and checking again for ethical violations, —as if any true scientist has ever been able to examine the fullest potential of life without bending a few rules."

You gather rather quickly that she likely just needs someone to vent to, and a stranger is as good as anyone else. Though you're sure it won't be long before she gets into specifics and you lose the plot entirely, you have no qualms about keeping her company for the time being. In fact. . . This might as well be just as much for you as it is for her.

"They say rules were made to be broken," you quip, hoping it'll be enough to keep her talking.

"I don't know that I'd go quite that far, —but what I will say is that being ethical will do no good if it leaves us plateaued and unable to advance," she says. "Humanity is shackled by so many things. I am searching for the key to those shackles, —searching for the means by which to unlock the true potential of human beings. Just imagine what could be achieved if every individual was consistently performing at their highest levels of functioning. Productivity would skyrocket, advancements that have taken decades in the past would come about in less than half the time. . . There's so much waiting to be discovered, and yet so many seem to want to stand in the way of that."

"I'm sure that's frustrating," you acknowledge. "Obviously I'm not familiar with your field, but it seems a bit counterintuitive to stunt your progress when advancement is such a crucial part of today's society."

At this point, you're just speaking and hoping something sticks. It'd be nice to have someone to share time with, even if all she does is rant about things you're nothing short of completely removed from. 

"Exactly," she practically hisses. "Sometimes, I'm utterly convinced that I'm surrounded by fools. Fools who haven't a clue what it means to strive for the betterment of humankind."

Truth be told, she knows you don't get it. She knows you're telling her what you think she wants to hear from you. . . But, at this point, it's enough. She doesn't have the patience to keep it all bottled up anymore, and your vague attempts at encouragement are something she's rather pleased by (for the time being, anyway.)

As a result, she goes on, and on, and on, well into the early hours of the morning. She drinks, but seems to hold her liquor so well that it hardly affects her at all. Or, perhaps you're just a bit sensitive in that department. Either way, she finds you to be a tantalizingly good listener, even if she lost you the moment she started detailing something about stem cell research and the possibility of using the brain's localization to its 'fullest potential.'

By the end of your time with her, you're drunk less on the drinks you've admittedly been nursing, and more on her. A woman of such. . . Confidence and refinement. Perhaps in great contrast to the artist at your core, who craves some semblance of chaos and passion that burns so hot you can feel it course through your veins.

It's only after you've parted ways with her that you realize you never caught her name.

You return to the bar several times after that, though you seldom have the urge to drink any of your problems away. Your long, strange conversation with that enchanting force of a woman weighs heavily on your mind. Her very likeness on its own had helped to chip away at your stunted inspiration, giving birth to new designs and a perhaps pretentious series of paintings in which long, slender fingers with sharpened nails painted a deep violet color held different types of flowers. A part of you wonders if she’d like them. . . After all, they were born only because you’d had the chance to meet her (and spend at least a good two hours staring at her hands.)

Now, however, you’re content with staring at the art displayed at this gallery. It’s clear many of the paintings are uninspired, simply taking the form of references, —which is all well and good, of course. . . But there’s a sense of romanticism missing from most of them that isn’t quite scratching the itch inside your chest.

You stand before one such piece; a beautiful painting of a teacup filled nearly to the brim with amber liquid. It’s accompanied by a few cookies, ones that look delectable in spite of their bland appearance. The scene is nothing revolutionary, but there’s a sense of warmth it exudes that the other works here lack, so you’ve chosen to camp here for a bit, if only to bask in its delight for a while longer.

“I don’t presume this is one of yours.” You’d know that voice anywhere.

Perhaps a bit too quickly, your head whips to the side, eyes immediately scaling upward. You meet the duel-colored stare of the woman you’d met at the bar, and the intensity of her gaze leaves butterflies tickling your stomach. She’s dressed much the same as the night you first crossed paths with her, but her hair is pushed back completely, —not a single strand out of place. She wears some subtle makeup, a bit of color on her lips and liner on her eyes. You couldn’t even begin to picture her in casual clothing.

You blink, clearing your throat as you remember that she was likely looking for a response.

“No, not quite,” you reply.

She hums in acknowledgement. Her hand almost looks empty without a glass in it, you note, but choose to say nothing of it.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you introduce yourself, hoping that she’ll follow suit. . . Hoping that she’ll take it as a sign that you’d like to see her again at some point, even if just at random.

“Moira.”

You swallow. It’s a name that sounds so elegant, and it suits her completely. Before you can compliment it, she turns her full attention to you, no longer dividing it between the painting. She never seemed particularly interested in that one anyhow.

“Are any of your pieces displayed here?" She asks. "I'd be interested to see them."

You swear the smallest semblance of a smile quirks at the corners of her lips as she speaks now.

"No, unfortunately not," you reply. "The deadline was too tight, and. . . Nothing I'd created recently felt worthy of the spotlight."

Untrue. The few paintings you'd stayed up until ungodly hours to finish were more than suitable; but they were of her. Only her hands, thus far, but. . . You still felt the urge to keep them to yourself. That's why you'd lugged them back to your apartment instead of keeping them at your worn-down studio.

She hums in acknowledgement.

The conversation is running thin, and you feel your chest tighten. She’d gone out of her way to speak to you first, so you assume there’s some semblance of a spark here, even if only a little one. You yearn to keep it safe from anything and everything hellbent on snuffing it out before it even has the chance to burn brightly.

“How’s work been for you, then?” You ask, somewhat desperate to keep her talking.

Moira heaves a heavy sigh, —not so much at you, but at the mention of work. You take that as ‘less than stellar.’

“It could be better,” she replies bitterly.

It’s then that you let impulse take over. Working as an artist is the culmination of your life’s devotion and effort to refining your skills. . . But it can be a bit lonely. Usually, that doesn’t bother you much, —it’s a feeling that rarely bubbles up enough to even cross your mind; but since you’d met Moira, it’d been much more difficult to ignore. In the end, you took a chance, perhaps a bit rashly. And yet, it paid off.

“I’d be willing to listen, if you’d like someone to talk to,” you offer. “There’s a little cafe just down the block. I’ve heard the pecan pie is to die for.”

She stares for a few moments, as if eyeing you down like prey. At the very least, Moira seems to be giving some thought to your offer, and you consider that as good a sign as any. Eventually, she breathes out through her nose just loud enough for you to hear it (and make note of the amusement it carries.) A smirk tugs visibly at the corner of her pretty mouth, and this time, it’s not one you’d have to squint to catch sight of.

“Suppose I am feeling a bit peckish,” she notes, then tells you to lead the way.

You’re almost dumbfounded that you’ve gotten this far. It’s all too easy to abandon the gallery and travel with Moira to the newly opened cafe just a ways off. You’d stopped by a few times since its grand opening just a few months back, but had never ordered anything more than a simple drink. You’d also never taken the time to sit down and enjoy the sweet atmosphere of the establishment, always rushing about too frantically to even consider the possibility.

This time is different. You sit with Moira by a large window, tendrils of sunlight pouring in from above, creating long shadows on the table between the two of you. She orders a simple cup of dark roast, but decides for the both of you that the pecan pie does, in fact, look too heavenly to pass up; so she requests one slice with two forks.

She tells you about her day, —about her work and her ongoing struggles to convince her superiors that she knows exactly what she’s doing and should be permitted to do as such. You still don’t understand most of it, but you make sure she knows she has your full attention nonetheless.

And then she makes the decision to turn the direction of the conversation.

“How has life as an artist been treating you since we last spoke?” She inquires.

You’re almost thrown off by the sudden reciprocation of curiosity. Between the both of you, you’d simply assumed she was leading the more interesting life, and had been completely content to listen to her spew her frustrations while sipping on coffee for an hour or so.

Still. . . It felt nice to know she cared about your own ventures, if only out of politeness. (Though, really, Moira didn’t seem like the type who’d ask a question she didn’t care about receiving a genuine answer to for the sake of saving face.) 

“Better,” you smile softly. “I was struggling to find inspiration, —worried that everything I was producing was just bland and uninteresting. But, after speaking with you, I started digging myself out of that rut. Since then, things have steadily been getting back on track, so I suppose I should thank you for that.”

Moira hums in acknowledgement.

“I’m happy to have helped, though I’m not certain I truly know what I did to spur any of your artistic inspiration,” she admits.

“You’re alluring,” you tell her without thinking the compliment through. 

You qualify: “Unique. Very visually striking.”

She raises an eyebrow at the sentiment, then offers you a low chuckle in reply.

“Is that why you asked me here?” She questions, though she doesn’t seem perturbed by the idea. “To be your muse of sorts?”

Your heart thumps a little louder in your chest now, though you’re not sure why.

“No,” you answer honestly, shaking your head a bit, “—but I’m sure that’ll be a secondary benefit.”

Will it ever. 

“I take it you simply enjoy my company then?” Moira continues.

“Precisely,” you nod. “It’s exactly that.”

She stares at you for a moment longer, her eyes all but boring holes into your own. In a good way.

Finally, she cracks an amused smile, and mumbles: “Likewise.”

At that, you’re certain you’ve won the lottery. You talk with her a bit more about a variety of things; what it’s like to be a full-time artist, about her nails (press-ons, apparently, —you could hardly believe the notion), —about how right everyone was about the pecan pie. She disappeared before you could say a proper goodbye, paying the bill and scribbling her phone number down on a napkin that she left at your seat while you were in the restroom. You grin to yourself the whole way back to your apartment, letting the day’s events wash over you like the evening tide.

Just before you turn in later in the night, you send a quick message to her phone thanking her for paying the tab and telling her that next time is your treat. She responds in almost record time, and you let yourself believe for a moment that maybe she’d been waiting around for you to reach out since she’d left the cafe.

Looking forward to it.

As late spring turned to early summer, you kept in contact with Moira, if only passively. She was a busy woman, unsurprisingly, and despite the continued conflict with her peers and superiors, she remained wholly devoted to her work and ideals. It was easy to recognize that you came second, —if you even made her list at all.

But that was okay. It didn’t weigh heavily on you as it might have if she were anyone else.

You saw her only a few times here and there over the weeks, returning to that same cafe to chat for a bit over coffees, venturing to a steakhouse on the far end of the city for a night of fine dining, and attending an opera performance with her after she’d been given tickets by a work colleague as a regifted-gift when that individual had no interest in attending themself. Each time, you saw a new side of Moira; getting to know her better, getting to experience the many shades of her. 

It was mid-June when you heard your phone buzz late at night, vibrating against the oakwood of your bedstand. On the off chance it was Moira contacting you at such a strange time, you shot upright, startling yourself awake in the process. You snatched your phone off the surface, squinting at the brightness only to realize it was a completely unrelated, automatic notification from an app. But you sat there that night, your stomach tied in knots, that device clutched a bit too tightly in your hand, only to realize something all at once.

You were falling for her. For Moira. And you were so certain that that was a terrible idea.

You laid awake, thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong in the face of this newfound revelation. Really, had anyone else had a say in the matter, the more shocking part of it all would have been that it took you so long to put two and two together. —She’s addicted to her work, utterly devoted to her job. That had long been established. Any plans you sought to make with her had to first be run through her hefty work schedule; the one that was so bizarre and so obscure that you’d given up trying to make sense of it a week into your acquaintanceship.

Any relationship you could hope to forge with her would be a lowly affair. Her first love was destined to be science. Still, you rationalized that Moira wasn’t much unlike you, in that sense. You too were deeply devoted to your career, thinking of it often, keeping your art at the forefront of your mind more often than not.

Even that aside, there was so much that could go wrong here. If she were to feel the same way, which seemed so unlikely to you that even considering it felt like something akin to a cruel joke, —it was more likely to be fleeting than anything else. Yet, a part of you still wanted it. . . Wanted the push and pull, the long weeks of her undoubtedly forgetting that you even existed, just to fall back in her arms at the first sign of affection. Foolishly, a part of you still wanted the late nights and early mornings, —wanted to feel your own heart break as you watched her slip out of your bed through hazy eyes, leaving you lonely without a proper goodbye.

Obviously, you were getting miles ahead of yourself.

Still, the fact remained that you liked Moira. . . You just weren’t sure what exactly you were supposed to do about that.

The summer heat became sweltering before long. Moira traded her long-sleeved dress shirts for short-sleeved ones in the same color and style, and you began to stare not only at her hands, but at her arms now when the two of you found time to get together. You’d sit and listen to her frustrations, —always about her working life and how it was so difficult to deal with being stifled, told that she couldn’t do this or that because someone had deemed it inappropriate by their own standards.

Admittedly, you still didn’t get it. Her work was so different to your own, and in the end, she didn’t really get yours either. But, each of you managed well enough. Your relationship was symbiotic. She had someone to vent to, you had someone to lust and desire for, someone to get your inspiration pumping. . . And that was good enough.

Until it wasn’t.

You did your best to drown your feelings out. There was too much at stake, what with Moira being your closest friend in the city, you assumedly being hers (since she often made note that you were the only person she spoke so candidly with,) —and you didn’t want to disrupt the balance the both of you had created together. It worked, and they say what isn’t broken doesn’t need to be fixed.

But it was breaking you, little by little. It was something you could ignore at first, until ignoring it became much more difficult, and you defaulted to stuffing it down on purpose, forcing thoughts about the bow of her lips and the dips of her waist into the back of your mind. If she ever caught sight of your wandering gaze, she never mentioned it. Still, you were prepared to chalk it up to admiring her frame for artistic purposes, and Moira likely would have bought that without much thought otherwise.

And then came the banquet, —the gathering, the party— whatever the hell it was. You didn’t really know what it was about other than that it had to do with Moira’s work, and that in itself was enough to signal to you that you probably wouldn’t have been able to make much sense of it anyway. She’d asked you to attend alongside her, saying that it would go much smoother with someone there to talk to (presumably so she could ignore everyone else that would be lapping at her ankles, vying for her attention.)

Whether her colleagues liked or disliked her and her methods, it was surely undeniable that Moira was intelligent and could provide insight into just about anything (within reason.) Thus, she’d requested that you come along as her so-called “plus one.” It didn’t help that when you mentioned that you’d likely be out of place at such an event, she responded by assuring you that many of the scientists would surely be taking their partners and spouses along with them.

“So, this is your way of asking me on a date?”

It was a joke. You gave a sly smile to project that, and it seemed that she understood the intention. You just hoped she didn’t catch sight of the desperation that lingered in the back of your stare, —desperation born from the desire to cross every line known to man and then some. 

The worst part is that she didn’t deny it. She seemed unphased by the proposition even, telling you to “call it what you’d like.” And you would, albeit not to her face again. In your mind, this was a date. Perhaps one of convenience more than anything else, —but a date nonetheless.

When the time comes, you meet Moira just out front of your apartment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen her sleek, black car in person. She’d made mention of it before, (only when you’d asked first), but your get-togethers with her had been within comfortable walking distance of most things in the city. This time, however, the venue was a bit further out, and because the occasion called for fancier clothes, Moira decided driving there would be the best option.

You watched through the slightly tinted windows as she reached over the passenger seat, her long, slender arm easily reaching the inner handle of the car door. She pushed it open for you, and you got in, feeling like some kind of moviestar. It wasn’t often that you saw a car as expensive and luxurious as hers around your admittedly worn-down apartment complex. It was even less often that you got to ride in one.

“Wow,” you note, slipping your seatbelt on, “I figured you’d drive something nice, but this is really something else.”

She lets an amused tuft of air escape her nostrils.

You turn to look at her now, taking her in as the last rays of dying sunlight spill down from the sky. She’s in a nice suit, as expected of her, —one that compliments her lengthy stature noticeably even in a sitting position. The fabric of her blazer is a deep, crimson red, a few shades darker than the scarlet iris of her right eye, and it’s paired with a black undershirt and black dress pants to match. Her hair is slicked back, and her hands are hidden under a pair of black gloves. She’s almost too stunning to be real, you think as she seems to examine your own attire.

Though Moira pays you no compliments, the light smirk that curves her lips upward ever so slightly says enough.

“I’ll have you home before it gets too late,” she says. “This is more for appearances than anything else. Those matter much more than one might think in the scientific field.”

Unsurprisingly, she seems less than excited about all of this, and you temper your own expectations as a result. It wasn’t so much the event itself you were looking forward to, —it was just getting to spend time with her that really lit your fuse, so to speak.

“I’ve got nothing better to be doing,” you note. “I’m yours for the night.”

Maybe that was a little too forward. As soon as you’ve said it, a part of you wishes you hadn’t. . . But Moira gives you a little hum in reply, throwing you a final glance before fixing her eyes ahead, and that’s the end of it. You like to think she was pleased with that admission, though. The drive is quiet, but in a comfortable sense. She seems to be in neutral spirits in spite of her distaste for the final destination, and you’re glad for it (not that you mention it.) 

The venue was about as extravagant as you would expect; chandeliers hanging from the ceiling in the party hall, well-dressed staff members carrying platters of red wine and bubbling champagne, weaving their way through the guests with surprising grace and elegance. You can’t help but think to yourself that you’d never survive a day doing their job.

Moira snags the both of you some wine.

“Can’t help but think this is a bit nostalgic,” she comments as you put the rim of the glass to your lips to take a small sip.

The dark red liquid almost matches her outfit.

“I guess so,” you smile sheepishly. “It’s been a bit since we first met, and that’s the last time we drank together.”

“Indeed.”

She takes her own sip now, her lipstick clinging to the glass. You let yourself stare for a moment, gaze caught on her mouth. . . You let yourself wonder what it’d be like to pull her in, match your hand to the curve of her neck, —kiss her, taste the wine on her lips. It’s a bad idea, of course, but. . .

You just can’t help it.

“I suppose I should give you a proper thanks,” Moira notes after a few moments of silence. “I’m sure this kind of event isn’t much like anything you’d be used to.” 

“Not in the slightest,” you shake your head.

She appreciates the candid way you answer, not trying to soften the blow for the sake of saving face. Your honesty is part of your charm.

“Lucky you,” she notes. “These things are practically the bane of my existence. They’re just glorified circle-jerks, —everyone squanders their time meeting here to drink alcohol and grit their teeth while they speak with colleagues they haven’t seen since the last one, even though they promise to keep in touch every single time.”

You get the feeling she’s quite pleased they never actually go through with that. The very prospect seems more like a threat than a broken promise.

“Sounds. . . Fake,” you answer lightly.

“Utterly synthetic,” Moira says, venom lacing her words.

She really isn’t holding back tonight, and there’s a certain luster that comes with it, —the kind that makes your insides twist into pretzels. Though she’s seldom the type to be vulgar for the sake of it, her gloves seem to be off tonight. Metaphorically, anyway. The actual gloves on her pretty hands are still there, tightly fitted to her elegant fingers. You’d be a tad more bitter about the view they steal away from you if not for how nice they look on her.

“Worse off, you may think idle workplace gossip would be less common in a career such as mine, —but you’d be wrong,” she tells you. “The amount of nonsense they spew never ceases to amaze me.” 

And here you thought it was an impossible task to impress her. Imagine your shock when you found that a tried and true way of doing so was just to spout off pointless grains from the rumor mill. . .

“Seems hellish,” you remark.

You shiver at the mere thought of it, your eyes surveying the loose crowd now, looking for anyone who seems to be questioning your presence at Moira’s side or making assumptions about whether you really belong here. You don’t, and that just makes the anxiety worse. Another sip of wine down the hatchet, but your worries don’t go down with it the way you’d hoped they would.

“Hellish may be a bit of an understatement,” Moira mumbles sourly.

“Really though, a proper thank you for coming along is in order,” she sighs. “If you have anything you’d like in return, do tell. Money isn’t much of an obstacle, —within reason, of course.”

Unsure of how to say that all you really want is for her to pull you in and let her body meld into your own, you give her a little nod and a polite smile instead.

“I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.”

She seems pleased enough by your confirmation, swallowing down the rest of her wine in a few ungraceful gulps. The way her throat contracts as she tips the glass back sends a shiver down your spine. Everything she does is so mesmerizing, and at this point, it’s just unfair. No one person should be able to captivate you; mind, body, and soul the way she always has, even from the very start. Sitting at a rundown bar, standing tall before a painting of tea and cookies, —drinking down blood red alcohol under dazzling chandeliers and crystalline lights that dance off her eyes like fireflies in mid-July. 

You stand by as the night drags on, going much too slow for Moira, and far too quickly for you. It’s clear she’s not content to just be by your side here, and that hurts a little more than it should. She has another two glasses of wine and leaves a lipstick stain on each of them. . . And she doesn’t know just how much you’d risk for her to leave that same mark anywhere on you. 

For the briefest of seconds, you consider asking that of her in return, but you banish that thought to the shadow realm just as quickly.

A few fresh faces greet Moira with varying levels of that synthetic politeness she’d mentioned not long ago. Seeing it in real time is like looking through a kaleidoscope of disgust, and you have to force a scowl off your face. You try your best to zone out when they come around, figuring that you’re not supposed to be privy to whatever information they’re sharing, —and that you wouldn’t understand much of it anyway. Unless they were suddenly struck with the urge to discuss color theory or artistic interpretation, you were pretty certain you wouldn’t be of much help. Moira’s field of expertise was worlds different than your own. 

“Doctor O’Deorain,” a pretty blonde woman greets, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail and a little black dress clinging to her body in all the right places.

Moira regards her with less hostility than the others, her expression softening a bit.

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up,” she continues with a familiar giggle, losing the formal nature of her address. “I’m almost afraid to ask what you were offered in exchange for your attendance.”

If she’s comfortable enough to joke with Moira, you assume she’s known her for long enough to have built that kind of comradery. Maybe it was just a hunch of yours, but you’d have been willing to bet that Moira didn’t ease up to people very quickly. You like to think you were a slight exception to the rule.

“More like what they threatened to take away if I didn’t,” Moira answers, that characteristic bluntness still present in her tone, —but it’s softer with this woman, for one reason or another. 

The blonde laughs again, seeming content in the redhead’s presence. Jealousy prickles at your heart, making you feel utterly ridiculous. Her blue eyes finally travel to where you’re standing, as if she’s just now realizing that you’d been standing there the entire time.

“You brought a friend along?” She inquires, her kind smile never fading. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Moira beats you to the punch.

“Lover, actually,” she corrects, one of her gloved hands sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer and nearly knocking you off-balance in the process.

Your throat goes dry, face falling into an expression of panic, but you gather yourself before the blonde woman can take notice. Though you have no idea why she’d lie about such a thing, you can only assume that Moira has her reasons, and the last thing you’d want to do is correct her in front of a colleague, —even about something like this. You’ll probably never see this woman again anyway, so no harm, no foul. (Well, maybe some harm to your heart, but what else is new.) 

The woman seems shocked by even the idea of it. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” you say with a forced smile.

It’s not that she isn’t kind or easy to talk to. She’s both of those things, actually, and you can admire that (and you do.) But you’re still reeling from Moira’s sudden concession, and making small talk is the last thing on your mind. 

The rest of the conversation is a blur. You do your best to fall into the background, hoping that each of them might just forget you even exist. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, beating something dangerously close to out of control.

The feeling of her hand on your waist all but burns itself into your flesh. 

By the time they’ve said their goodbyes, she’s taken it away. But it’s far too late to fix the damage she’s done.

Moira never does explain herself that night, and you don’t have the nerve to ask. Questions are ripe on the tip of your tongue the entire ride back to your apartment, but you sit in silence just as you did before, —albeit much less comfortably.

It’s then that you’re forced to acknowledge the crueler parts of her. . . And yet, you fear, you’re still falling for her anyway.

Communication is brief and inconsistent over the rough week and a half following the event. You send a few messages out of nicety, hoping she might choose to spark up a conversation. . . But she doesn’t, and you chalk it up to her being busy with work. At least, that’s the story your rational mind would like you to believe. The part of you that you’d like to shut out completely warns you only of the possibility that you’re being overbearing, and it’s pushing her further away.

You begin to worry that it’s now or never. If things continue as they are, Moira might as well just be another person who only contacts you when it’s convenient or they’re feeling a little nostalgic and want to hear a whisper from a ghost of their past.

As a means to counteract that possibility, you decide that it’s time to put that favor from Moira to good use. Best of all, —it’s utterly free of charge.

She agrees to meet you at your little painting studio to provide some assistance. Upon arriving, she walks around and gazes long and hard at each of your pieces, —finished and unfinished alike, sparing you the flurry of compliments she’s sure you’ve heard a million times over. If she were anyone else, her silence might have been a bad omen, but you know her well enough to understand that she means well.

“I’m not certain I can really be of any help,” she says, giving you a sidelong glance over her angular shoulder. “I enjoy art, but I haven’t the slightest clue how to create it. I leave that to the lot of you who’ve crafted your skills and put in the time.”

“For many of us, —myself included— inspiration is just as important as skill,” you reply. “These days, it’s been running a bit dry. But I was hoping you could get the wheels turning, if you know what I mean.”

Moira thinks she has a good idea of it.

“And how, pray tell, should I go about that?” She asks. “Do I just need to sit here and pose?”

“Actually,” you say, hoping to rip this off like a bandaid, —because you know it’s bizarre and that she might well say no, but you’re sick of wondering about it.

As it goes, you’ve prepared for the worst, but you’re hoping for the best.

“I’d like to paint on you.”

She looks at you evenly, as if she’s not shocked by the request at all. You’re more surprised by her lack of a visceral reaction than she is by your requisition.

“Interesting,” she notes, though it doesn’t sound like this is particularly intriguing to her, “—where, exactly?”

“Just like that?” You laugh. “No hesitation? You’re just gonna let me do it?”

“That’s dependent on the where,” she replies, an amused smile thinning her lips out. “If I’m right to assume you’re keen on keeping this within a certain boundary, I see no real reason to object. I do owe you, after all.”

Above most things, Moira is practical. She sees this as repayment, not only for your attendance at her working banquet, but also for the many afternoons, evenings, and nights she’s talked your ear off, sharing her own disgruntled feelings over coffee, steak, and whiskey neat respectively.

You offer her an appreciative smile, as if she’s done something so loving for you out of the kindness of her beating heart.

It’s more out of obligation, you fear, but you’re fine to ignore that for now.

“Will an arm suffice?” She asks.

“Maybe two,” you answer cheekily, and she doesn’t object.

You grab her a wooden stool to sit on, one much less rinky-dink than the barstool she’d sat on the night you first met as you go about procuring your materials; paints, brushes, —the necessities for this kind of ordeal.

“Can you roll your sleeves up a bit more for me?” You request.

“Would it be easier to just discard the shirt?” She asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. Yes, she’s probably right in some sense. . . That likely would make this process increasingly easier in a pragmatic sense, —but you’re certain seeing her in such a state would do numbers on your heart that you’re not sure you’re really equipped to handle.

“I. . . I suppose so,” you nod.

You try not to stare as her elegant fingers undo the buttons of her shirt with ease, like she’s a master of the craft. Her back arches ever so slightly as she slips her arms out, long and limber as they fall to her sides and she keeps the mess of white fabric balled in her hands now. Her bra is a stark black, the kind of deep shade that really contrasts with every inch of her pale, porcelain skin. You swallow nervously at the sight of her, taking the shirt from her hands to drape it over an unused easel.

She seems to have no reservations about this. Maybe it’s because she’s simply confident in every aspect of herself, —or maybe it’s because she trusts you enough to remain stoic in the face of it. You don’t ask, and Moira doesn’t tell.

“Any ideas?” She says instead, “—For the artwork.”

“I was considering something floral and nature-themed,” you answer, focusing in on that aspect of the ordeal so as to forget that she’s sitting in front of you like this, so much of her on display for your eyes only.

“Butterflies with carnations,” you add, “—or daisies, perhaps.”

“I’m impartial to hyacinth myself,” she notes.

It’s not so much a suggestion for your art piece as it is something Moira simply wants to share with you. Still, you think it best to run with it, and you give her a slightly lopsided smile.

“Hyacinth it is.”

She watches with curiosity as you go through the motions, —mixing colors, cleaning your brushes between them, dabbing them dry. It’s not often that Moira has the luxury of watching something like this in person. . . In fact, now that she’s thinking of it, she’s not sure she’s ever witnessed an artist work firsthand at all. In her lifetime, she’s seen innumerous things she would personally describe as incredible, —and unbeknownst to you, this is one of them.

“This is actually quite relaxing,” she says. “Like a massage. I don’t fancy those much, I loathe the thought of a stranger touching me so extensively, —but this is nice.”

You offer her a small smile.

“I’m glad,” you reply. “I knew it was a bit of a strange request, and I wouldn’t have blamed you for turning me away, but I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to allow it.”

“Perish the thought,” Moira shakes her head slightly. “If anyone knows about unconventional methods, it would be me. I know better than most that in order to reach one’s full potential, sometimes it’s necessary to step outside the proverbial box.”

That wasn’t quite your mindset going into it, but if she was ready and willing to place a perfectly good excuse for this in your lap, then so be it. Truth be told, you were simply a conduit of passion to your very core, and in a perhaps distorted sense of the word, this was romantic to you.

You hum in acknowledgement.

“While you’re here. . . Can I ask you something?” You inquire.

Though it feels like your heart is in your throat now, you manage to keep your hand steady enough to continue your work with little disruption.

“You can ask,” she says, “though my ability to answer might waver depending on what the question is.”

“At that event. . . You told that blonde woman we were lovers. Why?”

It’s been eating at you since it happened, in more ways than one, and now seems like as good a time as any to get it off your chest. You steal a peak at Moira’s face, noting the way she remains completely composed, even in the face of such an off-color inquiry.

“So I did,” she says plainly, certainly not the type to deny responsibility or deflect accountability for her own actions. “It’s an unfortunate fact for me that my colleagues can be quite. . . Eccentric. And by that, I mean they often poke their noses in the affairs of others with something similar to reckless abandon.”

Her brows furrow now as she thinks about it, clearly agitated.

“It’s not uncommon for them to pry into my personal matters, and I was hoping to quench their overbearing interest in my romantic life by giving them a glimpse into it, —if only a false one. Like I said before, everyone there is in it for themselves. It’s all synthetic. . . An act they put on to please one another a few times a year. That night, it was my turn to do the pleasing.”

“That makes sense,” you acknowledge.

Of course it did. You weren’t expecting anything less from her of all people.

“Did it work?”

A low rumble of brief laughter resounds from her chest, —husky and divine.

“Like a charm,” she tells you. “I’m sure they’ve found another staff member to harass with their incessant yammerings about intimacy and partnership.”

“You’re not a fan of those?” You ask, and the question is punctuated by the quiet ripples of your paintbrush through water as you clean it.

Moira is silent for a few moments, as if pondering on your inquiry.

“I don’t. . . Dislike intimacy,” she replies, —though she doesn’t sound as sure of that response as she normally would have had the two of you been discussing anything else.

“Rather, I don’t dislike the idea of it,” she corrects quickly. “In practice, I suppose that’s a different story. I don’t offer my trust like candy, and for me, intimacy only follows trust.”

“I’d argue this is quite intimate,” you note softly, blending two shades of deeper purples together on her bare skin. “Does that mean I’ve won your trust?”

You fear you’re pushing your luck here, but can’t stop yourself from asking. Eventually, Moira lowers her chin a bit, seeming amused by your line of questioning.

“I suppose so.” 

Bingo. 

If nothing else, that was your win for the day. If nothing else, —Moira trusted you. . . And that was more than enough for the time being.

You thrive off the high of that evening for the next several days. You don’t even worry when things go silent on Moira’s end. It’s all too easy to simmer yourself down now that you know for certain she trusts you, —and it’s almost elating to hold that information so near and dear to your heart. She invites you for a drink that Saturday night, in the cooling heat of summer, and you jump at the first opportunity to see her in person again.

This time, the bar isn’t quite so run down. It might just be the fanciest one you’ve ever set foot in, and the outfit you wore that you were worried would come off as overdressed now feels like the opposite. Things like this remind you of just how different you live in comparison to Moira. . . It’s easy to forget that she’s quite wealthy, and though you’re well past your struggling artist phase, you’re far from living the way you imagine she does day in and day out.

She’s not keen on discussing work tonight, so you sit around nursing lemon drop martinis with sugar-lined rims, hanging off her every word like the admitted lovesick fool that you are.

It’s nothing profound, nothing inherently important in the grand scheme of it all. . . But it’s nice to know that her favorite season is autumn, and it’s nice to know that she can play a bit of piano. It’s then that you really understand just how much little things really do matter, even within the finite days we’re given. Especially within them.

Just like your drink, it’s slightly bittersweet.

You talk with her well into the night, eventually forgoing the bar to simply walk around under the stars and the city lights. And maybe it’s alcohol or that aforementioned trust she’s placed in you, —but she tells you that she misses her home on nights like these, and when she sees you shiver, she drapes her jacket over your shoulders and walks a little closer to you now. So close that the back of her hand brushes against yours, —once, twice, thrice— but the fourth time never comes.

Instead, she reaches out in between the hum of passing cars and the hollow breeze that swishes by, and takes your hand in her own. You don’t bother to bite back the smile that graces your lips.

That night, you consider telling her all the things you’ve been keeping bottled up inside, —all the time you’ve spent groveling over her and her unfair ability to captivate you like no other. But, a part of you is almost certain she already knows now, as if the poetry written in your heart has all but flowed right into her own from the lines in your palm.

As summer moves both far too slow and much too fast all in a single breath, Moira becomes a semi-frequent guest in your studio. Sometimes she simply watches as you work on canvas, and at others, she becomes the canvas herself. You have a little collection of photographs of her now, —posed according to your will, displaying her painted arms in the process. It must be hours upon hours now that you've spent gracing her skin with your brushes, listening to her tell you about her day; the good and bad parts.

She leaves out the finer details, not wanting to bore you with the intricacies of a job one could only understand through years of training and experience. Still, you know more than you probably should about her research, and you're there when the scientific community at large decides that she's a perfect fit for their next public enemy.

For how harsh the punishment is, you'd think she would have been more upset, —but she remained indifferent to it all, as if taking it in stride was the only way she knew how to cope with it. Moira asked that if you stumbled across any articles of her, you pay them no mind. . . And you didn't. Maybe that was a naive choice, but her work was only your concern to a certain extent, and you were already well aware that she was prone to bending ethical guidelines. At the end of the day, you knew her as a woman rather than a scientist, and that was that.

You have to admit, it’s a little tortuous seeing her so often, being constantly reminded of just how hard you’ve fallen, and yet never having the courage to act on it. You often hype yourself up, readying yourself to shoot your shot, —but as soon as Moira is actually in front of you, all the confidence you’d spent the prior day and night building up all but crumbles to your feet in pathetic little pieces.

You sit with her at that cafe again, sipping on lattes together in the early afternoon. She seems more relaxed today than she is most of the time, —like something amazing has happened, though she hasn’t told you what. If anything even happened at all. For a moment, you let yourself believe that she’s just happy to be here with you.

The new employee of the quaint shop slips you a napkin with some scribbled numbers on it, and you feel a sense of deja vu. It wasn’t too long ago that Moira gave you her phone number in much the same way.

“His number, I presume?” Moira inquires. 

You nod.

“I was wondering when he’d decide to make a move,” she laughs. “He’s had his eyes on you since you sat down.”

“O-Oh?” You utter, heat rising to your cheeks, “—Has he? I didn’t notice.”

You were a little distracted by the way she held the handle of her cup, though you’re keen on keeping that particular detail to yourself.

“Indeed,” she confirms. “So, any plans to take him up on it?”

“Ah. . . No, I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered and all, I just. . .”

“He isn’t to your liking?” Moira guesses.

She’s so nonchalant about this that it’s close to driving you wild.

“I don’t know that I’d say it like that,” you mumble.

“He’s not your type, then?” She revises.

“I don’t think I have any specific type,” you answer.

“Perhaps there’s someone else?”

Your face falls and it doesn’t go unnoticed no matter how quickly you right yourself. There’s no hiding that it’s the case now, —but you have a feeling she already knows as much. She’d known it for days, weeks, —maybe months. Maybe she knew you were falling for her before you yourself had the wherewithal to pick up on it.  

“Something like that,” you mutter, taking a long, drawn out sip of your drink.

Something like that. 

She doesn’t press it any further, letting it drop completely for the time being. You part ways as you exit the cafe, and while she spends the rest of her day in her lab, you meddle about your studio, unable to keep your focus steady enough to get much done.

Perhaps there’s someone else. . .

You sigh deeply, frustrated and overwhelmed. If there was ever a time when you wished she’d be as blunt as she always seems to be, —it’s now. A part of you is certain even rejection would hurt less than this; less than the unknown. You’re sick of sitting in this pit of misty grey indifference, stuck in limbo, always waiting for the right time (that never actually comes.)

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath. “Fuck.”

You feel pathetically underproductive, sitting against the wall in your studio as the sun begins to set. You’ve done so little, but your mind has been racing for hours, and there’s still no sure-fire way you’ve found to reason yourself out of this mess. Telling her how you feel is always an option, but there’s a risk there that you’re just not comfortable with as things stand now. Moira pushes and pulls, and you don’t know what to make of it.

She makes that choice for you, as expected of her.

When your phone buzzes, lighting up with her name on the screen, you’re close to jumping out of your skin. It says so little, but it makes you feel so much.

Dinner? 

Though you’re not particularly hungry despite having eaten very little all day, you quickly agree, if for no other reason than to bask in her presence and soak her in for everything she’s worth (which is more than any simple number could ever do justice, no matter how large.) For the sake of having an idea of how to dress, you ask where.

My place. 

And so it goes. You get her address and she tells you to swing around by 7:30. You’re there by 7:28, spending the last two minutes outside her door, preparing yourself for whatever is to happen next. This building is incredible, —clearly high-class and unsuitable for the average working person based on price alone. You’d expect nothing less of Moira. 

The outside pales in comparison to the inside, however. Her bookshelves are filled to the brim with titles, —some academically inclined, and others more for pleasure (though you’re not certain Moira would see much of a difference between the two.) She greets you in her typical attire, dress pants and a white button-up, although the top two buttons are undone tonight and her hair lacks any form of styling. You’re staring as she sits you down at a table overlooking the city, but you can’t help it, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. There’s something about her tonight that has your heart shivering in your chest.

“Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes,” she tells you. “Feel free to look around. I don’t mind what you touch as long as it isn’t broken.”

There’s a twinge of a smile on her lips and eyeliner slightly smudged beside her eyes. This is probably the closest you’ve come to seeing Moira in her rawest state, topping even the version of her you saw that night at the bar. It seems like that was so long ago now, but also feels like it was just yesterday somehow.

“You’re cooking?” You inquire.

“I dabble,” she replies. “It’s a necessary skill. I’m no Michelin star chef, mind you, but I can manage a proper meal.”

She hasn’t even set the food before you yet, and you already know she’s being far too humble. In the meantime, she pours you a glass of champagne, apologizing for the fact that it’s all she has on hand besides whiskey. You think nothing of it. If you didn’t know better, you’d consider this a date. . . And maybe you will, if only to yourself.

While she’s off in the kitchen, you run your fingers along the many book spines of her collection, imagining what she’d look like just sitting near a window in this place, a cup of tea resting near her, those elegant fingers flipping through pages. 

Dinner is mostly quiet, but delicious. As you’d guessed, she was certainly being humble about her own culinary skills. She takes your compliments with lilted smirks. Moira seems more comfortable here, which makes sense. . . This is where she lives, after all, where she sleeps and spends a fair amount of time (you’re assuming) when she’s not in the lab or off doing something with you. She keeps her space impeccably neat.

You ask about the things strewn about her place, —about some of the awards she displays on a shelf all to themselves. It’s pressed into a corner, like she isn’t much proud they’re even there. She doesn’t seem to mind telling the tales, but doesn’t jump at the opportunity; like she’s doing it to quench your curiosity rather than stroke her own ego. She gives you a few book recommendations after gauging your tastes, —offers to let you borrow her copies, and you tell her you might just take her up on the offer, even if you won’t.

“It’s a bit late,” she says at a quarter past ten, “I hadn’t meant to keep you so long.”

But she doesn’t apologize for it, and Moira doesn’t seem sorry at all. 

“I can drive you home,” she continues, “—or I could walk with you.”

She leans in a bit closer now, and you swallow nervously. You’re convinced you’re misconstruing something, but her lips are so near to your ear that you can almost feel them ghost against your skin.

“Or you’re welcome to stay,” she says softly, “if you’d like.”

You’re scared she can feel your heart hammering away in your chest. A part of you wants to just do as she’s offering, —stay the night with her, let her crawl under your skin, let her wrap you up in her arms and melt into her. But you’re not certain you’re ready for that yet. It’s a leap, and the both of you know what happens between adults when the lights dim and you stay over.

When you say nothing, she places one of those beautiful, elegant hands on the side of your face, cupping your cheek. You never really knew Moira could be that gentle. She waits, watching as your eyes flicker about for a moment, then leans closer; almost touching, but not. Like she’s waiting for permission or rejection. You meet her gaze, then let it flicker off nervously, and a smirk grows on her face.

Moira’s lips fall just to the side of your own, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. She leans back, standing to her full height, letting her hand linger on your face before pulling away. You were hesitant, and she could feel it.

“Goodnight,” she says, —as if she already knew how this night was going to end.

She’s not upset, and you let yourself smile up at her.

“Goodnight, Moira.”

This thing with her is intoxicating. It’s like a drug, and it’s getting in the way of everything. You’re finding it difficult to even be in her presence now without your eyes wandering or thoughts sneaking off somewhere they need not be. You fantasize about her more than you’d like to admit.

And now, you know that she must like you to, —at least to a certain extent. There’s plenty you aren’t certain of, plenty you’ll likely overthink in the future, but. . . You want this. You want her. You’ve known that for weeks, and now the only question left is what the hell you’re going to do about it.

You tell yourself the next time she comes onto you, you’ll accept her advances more readily. You’ll ask for the kiss she silently offers, tell her you want to stay the night. . . Maybe you’ll take the initiative, grab her by the ivory button-up and stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against her mouth, even if it’s somewhat out of your character.

But then what?

What happens after, when the heat has cooled down, when the water’s stopped boiling, —when her dry luster has dimmed and you’re tired of being tossed to the wayside everytime she’s set her mind to something else? What happens when you’ve fallen down the list of her priorities and she has a million and one things to think about before she ever gets to you?

What happens when you run out of excuses to make for her. . . ?

And why doesn’t that seem to matter to you as much as you know it should?

You wonder if that’s what it means to love someone. . . To know that there are parts of her you’ll likely wretch at the sight of, to know that there are facets of her that you’ll find absolutely fucking repulsive, —and you’ll love her in spite of it, just as you do now.

Or maybe you’re just a lovesick fool.

She kissed you a few nights later in your shabby little studio. Your eyes had flickered from the roses you were painting on her arm to the glimmering red and blue of her irises that still shone even in the yellow lighting of the dying bulb above your heads, and then to the bow of her lips. Moira reached out, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, as if this was how she’d chosen to test the waters. Your stare was so tender, and even she, in all of her romantic ineptness, could see that you were practically begging for her to make the first move so you wouldn’t have to be the one to break the ice.

You felt one of her fingernails trace your jawline from chin to lobe, then back down again. She cupped your cheek that time around, her surprisingly smooth palm sitting warmly against your skin.

You’ll never forget the way she paused just then, or the way she met your gaze just to lean in closer, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips before she asked simply: “May I?”

And even when you were still uncertain of what that really meant, —uncertain of what she’d do in the moments that followed your approval, if only naively, you gave her a nod, because you trusted her.

Her lips were soft and imperfect, and her lipstick wasn’t the type she could kiss with and leave nothing of the remnants behind. The reddish-orange color left an imprint on your mouth, faintly, of course, but it was there. It served as proof that what happened wasn’t just in your imagination anymore. You felt your heart stutter when she pulled away, and your head was swimming.

Since then, you’ve gotten that same feeling more times than you can count. Sometimes, it seems to live in the marrow of your bones. You had it for hours on end the first night you spent with her, all but glistening in afterglow under your worn-out covers. She never complained about the quainter life you lived, even though it often paled in comparison to her own. Moira held you just the same whether on your creaky frame and dreary mattress or on the king-sized bed in her luxury apartment that overlooked the cityscape.

You get that feeling when she takes your hand in her own, —when she traces shapes and cursive letters against your flesh under humble moonlight. You get it when she peels you apart, when she looks inside your chest with a single glance, when she soothes your deepest flaws simply because she can.

And it’s not always perfect. Sometimes she’s snippy, sometimes you’re sensitive, and sometimes you sleep in the spare room of her apartment just to make room for your thoughts. Sometimes she doesn’t call when she knows she’ll be working late, and sometimes you don’t see her for a few days when her workload piles up too high and she shacks up in her laboratory. Sometimes she forgets to make the most of every moment, and sometimes you shut her out when you know deep down that you shouldn’t.

But there’s always love to be found, —no matter where you are. She attends company banquets with you on her arm, just to show you off like a prize. You sit and watch her with stars in your eyes when she cooks, when she reads, when she paints the press-on nails she wears like claws for protection. She makes your coffee for you in the mornings, memorizes the way you like it, and keeps the additives on hand (even when she drinks hers straight from the pot.) You make her your greatest source of inspiration, filling in page after page of her likeness, never tiring of a single thing.

It’s not always easy. Love never really is, —not even in most of the movies these days. But as Moira crawls into her bed, —your bed—, the bed you share now more nights than not, her hair ever so slightly longer now than on the night you first met, she drapes a thin arm over your waist and welcomes your warmth, pulling you closer, smelling faintly of the perfume you gave her for her birthday, —you’re certain some things are not just meant to be, but are meant to be maintained: and this love is one of them. 

[regina-cordium]

me? responding to a post i got tagged in? wild!

got tagged by @renninflight

Rules: always post the rules. answer the questions the person who tagged you has written and write eleven new ones. tag 11 new people and link them to your post. let them know you’ve tagged them

except. i never know who to tag for these. if u see this tagged ur it. ill put questions at the end

under cut, because as yall know im a Yapper

What's your favorite band/musician? (And tell me why! And if you've seen them live!)

I'm a Hozier girlie thru and thru. he was in boston in march AND HAD NOAH KAHN AND I COULDNT GO AND IM STILL SO DISAPPOINTED. A N D HE WAS AT BOSTON CALLING AND I C O U L D N ' T G O auuuuugh

What's something you're proud of?

i dont mean this in, like, a self deprecating way. but i honestly dont know what to say. i got dean's list a couple times in college. i won some kinda award and now my name is on a plaque in the english department, thats kinda dope (i, to this day, have no idea what it was for)

What's something you like about yourself?

i do tell my parents they overestimate how smart i am, but i will say i am p good with trivia/knowing random things. nothing better than getting most of a jeopardy board right (<- needs to go outside more)

What's something you would like to do, if money weren't an obstacle?

i would literally never leave school. i love learning things (see above)

What's something you do when you're anxious or stressed to calm down and relax?

listen to music, sometimes Very Loudly

Do you have a favorite author? (If so, who?)

im totally blanking, but i dont really think so? theres not really an author that i see and immediately go "oh i gotta read ALL of their stuff RIGHT NOW" yknow?

Do you have a favorite poet? (If so, who?)

emily dickinson. yes, i am gay, how'd you know?

Do you have a favorite artist? (You can probably guess the rest of this question!)

van gogh!!!!!!! i know its such a basic bitch answer, but i L O V E the impressionists

What's a movie or TV show that had a big impact on you? (Could be something you watched growing up, a movie you saw recently that made you emotional, something you've seen a lot, something you quote with friends and family, etc)

i would watch beauty and the beast on vhs CONSTANTLY growing up. tv show wise, definitely buffy and angel and charmed. watched them with ma growing up and they have absolutely shaped my interests since then. also, and i swear im not being sarcastic, supernatural. ma and i watched every goddamn episode together since the pilot and look at me now.

What's something you wish you could forget? (Could be something personal, or it could just be a gross or weird fact)

not to get Very Fucking Morbid, but my dad almost died when i was 12 and i'd super love to forget that, actually

What's something you'd like to change about the world?

I Cannot Emphasize Enough That You Should Care About Other People

okay here're my questions. if u got this far, u are doubly tagged. idk i never know who to tag.

Song you've had on repeat lately?

Favorite play/musical (or both!)?

Book/movie/show you think somebody should read/watch to understand you better?

What's your favorite poem?

What's immediately to your left?

Favorite dessert?

Somewhere you'd love to travel, if money/accommodations were no issue?

Tv show currently/last watched?

Do you think aliens are real?

Do you think ghosts are real?

Do you have overly specific requirements for a room when you're trying to sleep?

[orpheusilver]

I am asking about your spiderverse dimension 🎤

yippeeeee okay id better explain what exactly im trying to write here lmao so like. this whole au was originally just an experiment in mapping the spider-person story onto a morbius variant as a joke bc i liked the idea of him being like "i was straight up bitten by a radioactive animal and started doing vigilante crime fighting can you please let me into the multiverse" and miguel going "NO youre literally a villain How did you get this number" but then it kinda spiralled and now theres like themes n shit

so long story short morgan michaels gets bitten by a radioactive vampire bat on a uni trip and wakes up with some weird mutations but doesnt really take much notice, he just goes about his day as normally as he can until he Fucking exsanguinates someone to Death. and takes it Badly. so then while hes trying to cope with that and adjust to the whole "vampire(?) thing" like. finding a non-homicidal way to get blood. he encounters spider-man and goes Hey! You know what would make me feel less shit about that whole murder thing? Doing that!

so he pisses off to try become a superhero and accidentally gets stuck with the name morbius, fucks around w/ doc ock and almost finds out until spidey saves his ass and morbius goes Hey. Im bad at this. Youre good at this. Can i be your sidekick until i figure out what the fuck im doing? and peter goes Hhhhhmmmmm bc He knows morbius is a villain. hes wearing one of them watches hes all caught up on how his canon works. but maybe this one is different..maybe he can fix him.....as in hes literally floating there in front of him asking to be fixed. so he says Yeah okay ill make sure you dont get yourself killed probably

so theyre doing the whole superhero mentor thing for a while, morgan learns and grows amd theres some cool contrasting moments where he handles shit completely differently than spider-man would and changes the trajectory of some established arcs, until eventually hes off doing basic superhero stuff all on his own and goes Hey that guy doesnt have a pulse. Thats kinda weird. so he tracks the guy to this weird secret rave in a factory basement with all these other dead people and at one point they turn on the sprinkler and its full of human blood? which hes so normal about ofc (<- the lying liar) and then this COOL GUY with a COOL JACKET and a COOL SWORD shows up and starts annihilating everyone and morbius goes Whoa cool! and then this guy tries to kill Him and he goes HEY WAIT IM LITERALLY ALIVE and blade goes Thats fucking weird cause youre definitely a vampire so whats your deal. Come with me so i can figure out what your deal is. so then morbius meets blades cool hematologist friend and cool butch biker mom and finds out abt Actual vampires which, it turns out, he definitely isnt hes something else which just seems similar bc [INSERT COMIC-TYPICAL MUTATION BULLSHIT]

they both get tied up in plot stuff and even though it takes a loooong moment for blade to trust him theyre actually a pretty good team, morbius is used to spider-man treating him like a student and, implicitly, a child so its neat that blade treats him like an Equal (albeit an annoying inexperienced equal w/ bad jokes and a worse costume but still) and turns out they actually have a lot in common? and kinda bond really easily? and maybe this whole "edgy-hero-who-kills-things" deal is working wayyyy better for him than the spandexed paragon thing spider-man has going on and that guy is super out of his depth in these circumstances and needs to stop pushing in assuming he knows best just bc hes a """hero""" and actually hes maybe being a total uptight prick about the no murder thing and who died and made him king of new york anyway?? fuck off spider-man i have a cool new friend who Gets Me and will absolutely definitely never judge me for killing someone or succumbing to bloodlust which is definitely totally 100% true and Not a fundamental misinterpretation that will come back to bite me in the ass.

[yanderu-deredere]

a/n: decided to do a lil bulleted thing with ayaka abt how she'd meet her darling! it was largely inspired with how @darling--core wrote abt their yanderes honestly loool and ill probably spend the rest of the weekend doing the rest with the rest with my other yanderes. i'll be queuing them all up one after another lmao

warning: gender neutral reader, implied drugging, non consensual picture taking, there's a blurb where ayaka wears a strap but there's no mentions of any reader genitals other than an 'entrance'

ayaka yamato ★ profile

it was honestly like every other night

which, unfortunately, meant ayaka was bored

she was in another one of the handful of mansions they elected to hang out in with her usual crowd of famous instagrammers and 'social influencers'

they were people like her who were rich (be it through their families or through curating their brands) and who each had their own niche part of the internet

ayaka herself found them all interesting at one point in time, but now they all felt like the same old boring person: just another someone trying to please her to get something or another from her

she'd indulge them because they intrigued her, and the thought of being chased and wooed excited her. but after that, it wasn't fun anymore

one of them was gunning for environmental change, which intrigued her at one point, and then, when the two of them got together, ayaka got bored of her and dumped her

then, there was the video game nerd. he was interesting too and what they said about his thumbs was true. but, after they got together, the chase was over and the two of them were over pretty quickly after

it was truly one of the only things ayaka hated about herself

she got bored. fast

it's in one of these gatherings that you met her eye.

you were another one of the hundreds of people there. you might be one of the more popular influencers, amassing your own following of thousands like her. or, maybe, you're one of the hopeful smaller budding accounts. or, even more surprisingly, you might be a plus one who didn't have anything to do with her world

either way, the way you stared at everything around you in wonder made her almost laugh

she was smaller than you, daintier (that wasn't a feat, ayaka tended to be smaller than anyone she knew) and when you looked down at her, she felt her heart skip a beat

that was a good sign

she definitely knew you were her next target. though, how fast she'd get bored of you, only God knew

"Hi, you are?" She spoke to you in that sugary sweet tone of hers and, when you answered and introduced yourself to her, you spoke to her like a regular human being.

She was used to people referring to her with a tone of wonder or excitement, like she was some sort of amusement park ride or painting at a museum rather than a person. At first, it was nice but it got tiring really fast. It was refreshing to be spoken to normally.

You weren't kissing her ass like the rest of the people in the room. It definitely interested her. It seemed that whoever you are, you didn't know who she was and, for some reason, she wanted to keep it that way.

So, when you raised your cute eyebrow, as if to prompt her for her name, she simply licked her lips and smiled coquettishly at you "Aya."

she'd spend the rest of the night pretty much hanging off of your arm and any time anyone gets even close to spilling the tea as to who she is, she'll send them a look that would freeze boiling water

ayaka would mostly try to keep you to herself, get you somewhere secluded, onto a couch where it's just you and her

she'll corner you and just have like a conversation about all of your deepest dreams and your childhoods and stuff right then and there lol

and it gets weirdly close? like a therapy session with strangers?

but she likes it. and she doesn't know why but it's really easy for her to open up to you and its easy for her to let herself be herself around you

she's always had to be someone but, in front of you, she can just be whoever and it feels.... okay

"Yeah, I don't know. It's an Asian family thing, yeah? Dad's always been tough on me especially." She tucks her legs underneath herself and kind of shrugs, her hands tightening around the uncomfortably moist glass in her lap.

For some reason, she's always been able to just put on a mask, shrug of certain emotions, be the bubbly aya.yama persona that everyone loves.

In front of you, it felt harder. She couldn't meet your gaze. She was scared of seeing your expression, of seeing what was there because then her brain would have to calculate what she'd have to do to counter it.

Then, you'd be just like everyone else.

She heard you shuffle forward and, suddenly, your knees were touching. She felt your hand cup her cheek and, suddenly, you were tucking her hair behind her ear.

Ayaka's eyes fluttered, slowly, uncertainly, to you.

There was no judgement on your face. All she saw was acceptance. She saw worry, she saw a small smile, she saw a person who welcomed her with open arms.

"That's really tough. You don't deserve that, especially from a dad."

She was hooked.

after that, she won't be able to leave you alone

of course, as a social influencer, she knows how to act like a normal member of society. however, on the inside, all she wants to do is occupy your every waking thought--

anyway, she'll try her best to exchange contact information with you and schedule the next time the two of you can hang out!

and, of course, if you don't want to exchange contact information with her... well, there's still some way for her to get what she wants!

Ayaka pressed her lips against yours, her smaller hands hurriedly pushing into your clothes, her glittering fingernails leaving harsh marks against your skin.

You groaned against her mouth, pressing back just as firmly, your tongue coming out to lick almost languidly against hers. She tasted like bittersweet artificial strawberry lipstick and alcohol.

You could feel her pussy grind against your knee and then your thigh, her desperate rutting causing you to bump her against the wall.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." She pulled away from you just to mutter those three words before she was at it again except, this time, her lips were at your neck, her teeth grazing your skin and, most likely, leaving marks you'll be seeing the next morning.

One of your hands clenched into a fist against the wall, the other helplessly gripped her waist as your hips haltingly thrust into her hip.

"I don't know where to go." You felt your ears heat as you panicked, your embarrassment overtaking this sudden weird arousal that came from nowhere.

She giggled in that oh-so-very endearing way of hers that made your heart go pitter patter and made your cheeks even hotter "Anywhere is fine. I'll be happy to be anywhere with you."

definitely has a photo of her posing in front of one of those dresser mirrors? (am i going crazy, those exist right?) and then in the background is you, lying unconscious in bed, naked with hickeys and stuff all over you

its obvious what happened

would she use this as blackmail?

no, definitely not! what are you talking about!

yes, she definitely would, she'd do anything so you'd be hers

if you're an influencer, you definitely have less followers than her so she'll use that to her advantage

don't you want to collab? don't you want to appear on her posts? or maybe she'll appear on yours? you'll get so many more followers and subscribers if she helps you out!

if you're not, she can still use her influence a little bit. after all, even if you're not, you still must be involved in that world somehow since you got to that party

you have a friend or someone who's an influencer that invited you there, don't you? and she'll milk that for all it's worth. she'll suddenly collab with them and be seen with them and-- oh! it's you! she saw you at the party that one time, didn't she?

and before you know it, you're seeing her everyhere

weirdly enough, you're even seeing her all over your for you page or all over your explore page

suddenly, you have her followed on all of your social media accounts

all of her content is suddenly a bit more geared towards romance and love and getting that one you love to notice you

and when she finally has you in her arms, when you finally fall for her, she'll feel all the relief in the world when the feelings she has for you doesn't turn into boredom like it always used to

in fact, it felt like the feelings she felt for you only increased tenfold

"I'm so happy." She tittered out, her voice high pitched and her eyes almost crescent moons. She looked down at you almost arrogantly, her hands framing your face, just like how her hair curtained you.

"You're mine now, all mine." She pressed a kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your chin and then your neck and then one right over your chest.

Her hair, which was usually in a high ponytail to the side, was undone tonight and, instead, spread across the bed as she bowed low to press a kiss above your heart, to your stomach, lower and lower, to your thigh, to your knee.

Then, situated between your two thighs, she moved your legs. For such a small thing with dainty little arms and a thin waist, your legs were nothing for her. She wrapped them around her with ease and before she smiled that sickly sweet smile of hers.

"Mine, mine, all mine." She grouns her hips against yours and you could feel the cold plastic of the dildo strapped to her crotch, the poison bright pink of it almost glaring.

The size and shape of it felt so daunting and, it seemed, Ayaka saw in your expression that you were a bit intimidated because she giggled coyly, even going so far as to cover her mouth with her hand.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." She rubbed her hand up and down your leg, her nails scraping against your skin "I prepped you well, didn't I, baby?"

Then, she was moving again, directing the tip to your entrance, pressing it in. Instinctively, your hips raised to try and get rid of it but her free hand pushed you down and, surprisingly, she did it with ease.

The head popped right in and you let out a pained moan. She moaned too, though you weren't sure if it was because of you or if it's because it actually felt good.

Slowly, she inched in, getting closer and closer to the hilt till, finally, the two of you were crotch to crotch, and her face was above yours again, her hair curtaining your head once more.

You felt so full, so absolutely filled to bursting, with nowhere to go. All you could do was lay there and take whatever Ayaka wanted to give you.

"All mine to do with as I please, right, baby?"

[mar-bluu]

Anyways don’t mind me re-uploading this incoherent ramble about that magic/fantasy/gang au from like almost 2 years ago, the link to the previous upload doesn’t work anymore

and who knows, maybe this’ll get me back into writing the rest of the 10 chapters i had planned out for this?

Powers:

People with powers are very common, they are usually born with them but can develop later in life. Kids usually take on the power/s of their parents, (e.g. a pyrokinetic and a hydrokinetic have a child, that child will have both powers though one power will develop stronger).

However, people can learn a different power by training with someone else. They will take a while to actually develop, and it can take months or even years for trained-in powers to even start to work/appear.

Powers will ‘lock in’ by 21 though they can grow stronger, they cannot change. People can permanently have two powers (occasionally three but that’s incredibly rare) but they either won’t be as strong compared to if they had just focused on the one, or one will be stronger than the other.

Elemental magic is by far the most common and some of the most powerful (meaning the ‘main’ elements i.e water, earth, fire air). Hydrokinesis is the most common, followed by pyrokinesis, then aerokinesis, with geokinesis being the rarest, taking the longest time to control properly. (other ‘elemental’ powers are branches of the others; Ferrokinesis-earth, cryokinesis- water etc.)

Powers such as invisibility, shapeshifting, revivals, and time/interdimensional travel being the rarest and often the most taxing, not unknown for the occasional death.

There tends to be large influxes/groups of people with the same powers. This can be because of families and genetic similarities in the area, environmental factors, or because people learn from each other.

Key:

(name)- Most important/main character (appearing in fics or possibly larger  chaptered story)

(name)- Secondary important/ main character

(name)- Won’t appear the most but does have relevance to the (possible)  larger chaptered story

 Characters*:

- this is a brief and fairly basic summary of some of the important characters and their powers, think of it like a list you can go back to if/when you see a character and are like ‘who the fuck are they again??’

*NOTE: These are just the ‘main’/canon characters, and a few others that may be important if I can find the energy/time to do a multi chapter thing (I’ve had to make up so many other filler characters to pad each gang, e.g. ‘Zip’ so I’ll be excluding a LOT of them 'cause they don’t really matter lol)

Manhattan Ink and Thorns

·       Jack Kelly- ;)

·       Crutchie Morris- Psychic, agrokinesis (used for potions and spells, he works with Davey)

·       Davey Jacobs- Linguistics (sigils mainly, but works with spells and potions with Crutchie. He also has extensive knowledge on ‘magical’ history and artefacts)

·       Les Jacobs- He’s quite young, so his powers are still developing, but he does have a tendency for pyrokinesis

Pins and Needles

·       Sarah Jacobs- Sews charms and spells into clothing (protection, strength, spotty invisibility. She knits blankets and sews clothing for those in need eg. Homeless people, infused with heat and relaxation charms.)

·       Katherine Pulitzer/Plumber- Partial persuasion on people (she stills works for The World)

Poisoned Daggers

·       Racetrack Higgins- Shapeshifting,

·       Albert DaSilva- Invisibility

·       Finch- Teleportation, Deadshot

·       Elmer- Energy/power absorption,

·       Buttons- Electrokinesis/ energy manipulation

·       JoJo- Manipulate gravity (mainly his own, but can manipulate it for others with great strain/effort)

·       Specs- night/x-ray vision, basic future sight (in the sense of heightened reflexes)

·       Romeo- Hydrokinesis, aerokinesis

·       Mush- Teleportation, barrier creation/manipulation

·       Blink- Increased strength, minor healing abilities

·       Henry- Flight, intangibility (phasing through walls/objects)

·       Sniper- Toxikinesis, revive (Toxikinesis is very taxing, and people can only be revived if they’ve been dead for under ten minutes)

·       Mike- Increased agility, wall running, pyrokinesis

·       Ike- Increased agility, hemokinesis, hydrokinesis

·       Boots- Hydrokinesis

·       Snitch- Increased agility, shadow mimicry

·       Itey- Photokinesis/light-bending

·       Skittery- Aerokinesis

·       Bumlets- Illusion manipulation

·       Zip- Increased speed, pyrokinesis

·       Tommy Boy- Electrokinesis, hydrokinesis

Brooklyn Bloodhounds

·       Spot Conlon- Telepathy, telekinesis

·       Myron- Freeze time, rewind time (up to an hour)

·       Bart- Hydrokinesis, cryokinesis

·       HotShot- Ferrokinesis, hydrokinesis

·       Kenny- Regeneration

·       York- ??

·       Graves ??

·       Split ??

·       Tilly ??

 Richmond Ivory Pistols

·       Adela Yates ???

·       Moira Blane- Hydrokinesis, magnetism

·       Mitts ??

·       Bitters ??

·       Anja ??

·       Honey ??

Bronx Glass Skulls

·       Smalls- Shapeshifting

·       Dauncey ??

·       Plex ??

·       Aster ??

·       Cicada ??

Other

·       Marjory/Maggie- ???

·       Veera- ???

[somnambulants]

make me your future

summary: set during black widow. Yelena walks into a bar. A bar you happen to work in.  word count: 1.6K

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Groaning internally, you roll your eyes at the line, not even bothering to look up at the person who’d said it.

Who even uses pickup lines anymore? Seriously?

“Not in the slightest.”

You continue to clean glasses behind the bar. Lining them up neatly one by one. Whoever it is, they can wait.

You’ve been working at this bar for about a year and a half since you’d moved to the city. It’s a decent job. Not what you’d pick if you had a choice, but you don’t hate it.

You have your favorite customers, too. Some of the regulars. The old man who shows you photos of his grandkids while nursing a beer. The woman with the fixed business-like expression who gives you an exorbitantly large tip every-time you bring her a glass of the already crazy expensive red wine she drinks.

Perks of working in a moderately upscale establishment known for it’s discretion for under the table, not strictly legal activities means you’re fortunate that the majority of your customers are nice and quiet and stay to themselves.

Well, usually anyway.

Clearly not everyone had gotten the memo.

“Weird,” the person doesn’t seem to sense the hostility in your voice, sliding onto the bar stool in front of you. You can detect a faint accent as they continue, more flirtatiously: “Me neither. Well...not until I saw you, at least.”

Raising an eyebrow at their boldness, you finally look up, ready to give them a piece of your mind and promptly lose the words that were forming on the tip of your tongue.

The woman in front of you is your type; so your type that your type doesn’t even describe how much of your type she is.

“Does that ever work on anyone?” You finally force out. You don’t know why you’re saying it; clearly it works. It’s working on you right now.

The woman shrugs. “I wouldn’t know,” she says, propping her elbows onto the table to rest her chin in her hands and looking at you intently. “Never tried it before. Is it working?”

Heat flushes up your neck under her gaze as you scramble for something to say. “Can I -- Can i get you anything?”

Her voice turns playful: “Your number?”

Twisting your lips to hide your smile at that, you also duck your head a little. “I meant anything to drink?”

“Oh,” she frowns a little, thinking. She doesn’t look offended by your clear diversion. “Water, I guess?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” You can’t help yourself from asking as you slide a glass of water across the bar to her.

Her accent is puzzling to say the least. You’d say slavic of some kind for sure but she has hints of almost American inflections every now and then on some of her words.

It’s intriguing.

She gives you another smile, leaning in closer. “Visiting family,” she confirms. “My sister and her partner just moved here with their kids. She’s a science teacher.”

“That’s sweet of you to visit,” you say. “You must be close.”

She shrugs, taping her brightly painted nails along the rim of her glass. “We were as kids. Now not so much but we just reconnected recently.”

As she takes another sip of her water, you let your eyes linger on her face.

There’d been something about her words as she’d said them. Something that makes you think that her story isn’t as truthful as she’s making it out to be. Or maybe not at all.

Just a hunch of yours.

A lot of the patrons had stories like this they’d recount for you when you’d asked about anything even slightly personal - before you’d learned not to ask; stories that sounded like they could be true but more than likely weren’t.

Or weren’t the whole truth, anyway.

This bar was well known amongst those who needed to know that this was the place to go if you wanted to lay low. Or pretend to be someone else.

“And thankfully for me I came to visit,” she adds after downing the water, getting that playful glint in her eyes again as they snap back to your own. “Because here you are.”

You can’t help but laugh this time. She’s just so effervescently charming without even trying. “Yep. Here I am.”

You continue talking for what feels like only minutes but must be much longer; just about random stuff. The woman is surprisingly easy to talk to and adept at steering conversations to the point that you end up on the most obscure topics more than once.

When you look at the clock at some point, you’re almost blown away to see half your shift has gone by just talking to this woman whose name you don’t even know.

As if sensing where your thoughts have gone, she introduces herself. “I’m Yelena.”

“Y/N.”

The woman -- Yelena -- chuckles. Not unkindly. More like she thinks what you’ve said is amusing for some reason. “I know,” she says and you frown a little until you see her eyes on your name tag, which is pinned to the front of your shirt. 

 “Oh,” you say, a little embarrassed. “Right.”

As you turn your head, trying to hide the flush you’re assuming is creeping up your neck, you also notice the line of people in front of you that must have accumulated as you’d become distracted by her.

You groan. “Ill be right back.”

You serve faster than you’ve ever served. Practically throwing the drinks at all the patrons in your haste to get back to her in worry that she’ll get bored and leave eventually.

When you finally make your way through all of them and turn around, you find her seat still occupied and her in the same spot as before. Your heart does a backflip in relief.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly as soon as you’re back in front of her, not really sure why you’re saying it, only sure that you are really sorry you’d had to leave her side. 

Yelena waves a hand, unbothered as she tilts her head towards you. “It’s fine. You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know?”

You freeze, not knowing how to react. “I  --”

This time, she outright laughs at your reaction, which leaves you no doubt looking even more flustered than before. Her eyes glowing with almost-childlike glee as she grins at you teasingly. “See? Cute.”

“Oh yes,” a voice drawls. You turn, only to find the voice belongs to a weirdly familiar looking red head, who is eyeing you up and down with an unreadable look on her face. “Just... adorable.”

“This is Natasha,” Yelena says, looking between you both. “My... sister. The...science teacher.”

Oh. 

So the sister is in fact real. And the sister is also looking at you with a knowing look in her eyes. 

She most definitely doesn’t look like a science teacher. You’re sure science teachers probably don’t walk around clad all in leather. Or look like they could snap you in half. At least none of the ones you’d ever had.

You’re also pretty sure that science teachers don’t also double up as members of the avengers, but you don’t say anything to that fact.

You do however recognise the black widow as soon as you see her. She’s pretty unmistakable, after all. 

“Oh,” you say. “Can I get you a drink?”

As you ask, you pretend you don’t see the tail ends of the way Natasha is mouthing the words: science teacher? to her with clear quizzicality. Or Yelena’s clearly unbothered shrug in response.

Natasha inclines her head at your words. “No. Thank you. I think we better get going, actually. Yelena?”

Yelena’s lips form into a pout. “Already?”

Heart sinking down to the soles of your feet, you pretend to fiddle around behind the bar as they seem to have a silent argument with their eyes in front of you.

It ends with Yelena rolling her eyes with a little huff. Reaching into her pocket to grab a couple of bills and stuff them into your tip jar, she gives you one last smile. Her smile is so infectious that you’re helpless to do anything but smile back, trapped under her spell. 

You don’t know how she managed to do it but in the tiny amount of time you’d spent around her, she’d had you almost convinced that love at first sight was a thing. 

And that you were it’s next victim. 

And because of that, you’d never forgive yourself for what happens next. You’re distracted for a brief moment, pulled away to serve another customer as they both continue to converse silently and then when you turn back around, they’re both gone.

No sign of Yelena. Or her sister. It’s like they’d vanished into thin air.

You scan the room multiple times but come up empty.

She’s gone.

--

(You lose hope pretty quickly that she’s ever going to come back. A week goes by. Then another. And another.

Nothing.

Months pass by with nothing and slowly, you start to forget you ever met her. Well, not quite; you never get out of the habit of looking at the door at work every now and then hopefully but you stop expecting anything after a while.  

Until one day it changes.

You’re in the middle of serving someone and just as you hand them their drink, you hear a voice you’d assumed you’d never hear again come from behind you.  

“So...do you believe in love at first sight yet?”

You turn around so fast you’re surprised you don’t get whiplash.

There she is.

It’s definitely her. She looks a little different, her hair a little longer. But it’s definitely her. That smile is hers.

You grin back at her.

“Go out and come back in and i’ll tell you.”)

[daimonhalos]

Appreciation post for the eggpire and more during the red banquet cause I'm not seeing enough love for how well they organized and delivered and because I'm so proud of cc!Bad for how far the Bloodvines arc has gone ♥ (this stuff is from Bad's vod btw)

Also something to cheer people up a bit in case the lore got u hard like it got me cause I'm still not okay bestie <3

The starting soon screen being an animation (with glitches to show another frame!!) plus the jazzy electro-swing soundtrack underneath. Just such a good intro, I felt like I was actually in the waiting line for an event, just awesome.

Ponk. Just Ponk, dapper man, handsome Ponk just standing there. Gorgeous, thank you, standing ovation, I love him.

Just everything Bad and Ant did with the building of the room, the stairs!! The coat room!!! The statues right in front of the table, everything looked SO pretty.

ANT MY BELOVED LOOKING HANDSOME AS ALWAYS I just loved all their outfits. The banquet's skins just SLAPPED HARD.

The little moment where Bad changed view of his character and we could see him, Ant and Ponk cwc

Bad singing >>>>>>>>>>

Everyone getting lost despite the oak signs

THE ARC ABOVE THE DANCEFLOOR, WHAT THE HELL YOO

Bad complimenting everyone on their outfits and giving out some gapples here and there

Bad also always repeating the same catchphrases

Sam just drinking copiously and the dumpy situation

People actually dancing + HBomb being the dj

Puffy walking around Bad to see his outfit and complimenting him, just felt like their old friendship cwc

FOOLISH GAVE BAD A FLOWER <3

Bad scolding George for not wearing an outfit (Sam's "his name is Gogy and he is beautiful")

"It's almost time for the feast. It's gonna be delicious." the foreshadowing

Everyone dancing together cwc

"minecraft dancing is speed squats" eret ilu

Bad and Ant complimenting moment ♥

The eggpire all on the same side of the table. Them

Ponk's little "Hello!" after Bad said he made the soup, plus everyone going "good job!!" just twt

When Bad started asking if anyone wanted to give a toast, I realized eventually that this was more of a disguised "Want to say your last words before death?" and it now sounds s o freaking cool. ye s

P O N K 'S S P E E C H

"you look beautiful right now" sam i will cry

When in the middle of his speech, Bad turns to Ant who's already looking at him, nods, Ant nods back, and as Bad turns around again we can see Ant walking away from his seat. I am OBSESSED with this scene, like you already know something is about to go down and oh gosh it was delivered so good

THE LAVA COMING DOWN FROM THE CEILING AS BAD KEPT TALKING, NONE NOTICING, HIM TALKING ABOUT HOW THE BANQUET WILL BE UNFORGETTABLE. SO HOT

"And yeah! Thank you for coming everybody" the little mischievous giggles right after "And prepare uh ... yep. Prepare to die." AND THEN HE FUCKIGN DRINKS FROM HIS GLASS LIKE COME ON YOU CANT BE ANY COOLER THAN THAT YOOO

"The leaf is staying the way it is" you can hear the laughter in his voice like HAH GOTTEM that's so good

Bad still giving Hbomb gapples cwc

"Where you looking for this perchance?" AND THEN EQUIPS THE ENTIRE ARMOR AND WEAPONS E Y E when the twists started dude. this si where the twists started and never ended

HANNAH CROSSING SIDES AND SIDING WITH THE EGGPIRE. QUEEN SHIT that was such a cool moment for her i'm so glad she's getting her moment

The eggpire laughing, just pure villainy, love them

"Time to get on the main event" the nonchalance. The way they equipped the crossbows and readied the arrows at the same time. B r u h fucking awesome they are

The eggpire faking being afraid when Sam was talking about blowing the egg up. Sad that we already knew about the obsidian thing, but still made it a very cool scene. Especially right after when they started laughing at them again. I don't know what it is about it but I love them being so sassy.

FREAKING EXECUTIONS THEY WORKED FOR MASS EXECUTIONS they were able to trap all those freaking people!! And trick them and counter attack all the time! what the fuck, I'm so impressed

Thank you Fundy for sounding super terrified /gen ♥

Wait ahah they really said EGGSECUTION-

THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES im not saying IT but im saing Velvet

"Follow me! Follow me!" HANNAH SOUNDED SO ENTHUSIASTIC i love

"We trusted you!" "Well, that was your first mistake-" THE WAY BAD WAS ABOUT TO LAUGH. DUDE they definitely had so much fucking fun making this

sassyboyhalo

Foolish acting thank u ily. Also the thunder not working what the heck i wanna know what was going on inside his mind right then he sounded so lost. THE ACTING

"Sacrifice!" Hannah idk how to say this but I love you

ANT MOMENTTTT

When puffy called them selfish i was expecting bad to just do a huge double take. I wanted him to snap immediately PLEASE SNAP-

BAD DELIVERING AGAIN WITH THE AMAZING ACTING

"Not just for the egg but for what the egg is going to give us" he's so desperately trying to make them udnerstand it promised him his friend back he literally mentions it every single time but everyone calls him selfish because they think he wants power when he just wants skeppy's friendship back in this essay I will- Anyway yes I love that he never explicitly says it because it kills us viewers with pain cause we KNOW and then the reveal will be 100 times more powerful. This is so awesome

"I can't stop Quackity and you know why I can't stop. If I stop I can't get what I need." his voice grew so much lower like he's just holding back MAN I HH IT WAS SO GOOD

SECRET RETREAT ROOM YOOO

Ponk giving Bad some food and telling him to stay safe, Bad telling both Hannah and Ponk to stay safe too. My tears

And now the solo Bad lore part, where we actually see the true part of him that's absolutely devastated and makes me cry, the way he acted all confident and then saw everything crumble in a few seconds and now he's destroyed again because what if they find a way to destroy the egg what then? what if he never gets skeppy back? dude, you can just read his emotions it's so sad and i love how it was portrayed

"I know where I can go. I know who I can see!" BDI REF BDI REF FOR SURE I have a feeling that's going to be explained in the next lore stream with Skeppy and I'm so hype. I love the little crumbs of references here and there.

"But now they have it.." he sounded so broken??? bad your acting please ill cry

"I didn't really want to hurt anybody" his true self trying to get back cwc especially because he's farther away from the egg. I just love the transition between the guy Bad portrays who's so sure about the egg when it's in front of others and the doubts and anxiety he actually has when he's alone. Just so cool

"Did I screw up?" im just pointing out everything that moves me emotionally cause these people's acting is so cool

Ending the stream with simple black background my beloved

Okay but really I'm so so so proud of the ccs for making this happen and it's only going upwards, I'm literally so in awe, they really said go big or go home

Free space for Ant's villain speech I wasn't able to hear yet, but they said it was v cool, so I'm trusting people on this

Thank you for listening, stan Bloodvines arc /hj

If I made typos no I didn't

[pradaksj]

the swimming lessons

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ pairing⟶  jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶  swimminginstructor!jungkook , fluff, a bit of comedy? head canon/bullet points 

❧ rating⟶ e for everyone??? none??? idk how ratings work lol i just know that m = the dirty, which this story has none of

❧ word count ⟶ 5,000 

❧ summary ⟶  accidental swimming lessons with jungkook were definitely worth the money 

❧ a/n ⟶ i literally dreamt something similar to this in like january and told myself i'd write about it when i had the time so hear i am :)) this goes out to all my folks who can’t swim !! i'm on the same boat with you , get it?  cause we can’t swim ... ok anyways ... enjoy ! (note: i have not proofread this yet so sorry for any mistakes!! ill get to it soon !! ) 

“hello, welcome to lucky duck swim school, how can i help you?” the receptionist, who was loudly chewing her gum, sounded more like an automated voice message than a person...

see today was your first official swimming lesson

yay!! 

how fun!! ...

://

totally not embarrassing for someone your age !!!

honestly, it wasn't your fault you didn’t have any family members or friends with a big pool you could learn in growing up 

and by the time you did, you were too much of in an awkward phase to be properly taught

aka your body absolutely refusing to float on its own anymore

but after several trips to the beach with friends and attending different pool parties, you were tired of being made fun of !! 

no longer would you remain at 5 feet and under !!! not on your watch ! 

and so here you were, ready to start your journey into the world of swimming :)) 

“hi i um have a swimming lesson at 3 with um ... i believer her name was um—” 

hmmm what was her name ??? jennie??? no, maybe it was aaliyah ??? no that wasn’t it.... 

the receptionist taps on her keyboard buttons, her long nails making a noise 

pop, her bubblegum goes 

“jungkook” 

“yeah jungkook” you mindlessly say. 

wait 

WAIIITT

jungkook????

ummmmm 

that was not the game given to you by the last receptionist 

jungkook is a boy’s name !!! 

you didn’t want a boy instructor !!! 

not with the way you were looking 

“i um—i had asked for a girl instructor—” you awkwardly mention 

she rolls her eyes

um RUDE 

she continues clacking with her keyboard, looking for god knows what 

she sighs 

“there’s no slots with female instructors available for today, nor for the rest of the month, the earliest i can probably squeeze you in by is july.” she bluntly states. 

JULY??? 

july was when you needed to already know how to swim !!

that’s the peak of summer ! 

there was no point in knowing during winter or any other season besides summer for that matter 

and you were not going to get made of by your friends this year

no no NO

“soo do i reschedule you or.....” 

you sigh 

“no ill take it” you pout, resembling a child. 

“it it makes you feel any better, jungkook’s our best instructor, most popular too” 

wink 

oh yeah that makes you feel so much better 

>:( 

you were going to make a complete fool out of yourself in front of the so called “best instructor” 

“well go get yourself washed up, get into the pool, and jungkook will be with you shortly” she smiles, her attitude now changing now that (what looked to be a supervisor) was passing by. 

what a bi—

flip flop. flip flop. flip flop. 

your sandles press onto the water on the floor of the girls locker room, a grouchy look now on your face 

this wasn't fair 

you made an appointment with a female instructor!! 

you didn’t care if he was the best instructor or the most popular ...

squeeaaakkk , you twist the rusty shower handle

...because now you were you were going to be judged for your lack of skills 

not that you had any to begin with, but still! 

god, you sounded like such a karen ... 

it’s just ...

a guy instructor ??? 

really??? 

you understood that this wasn’t elementary school anymore and boys certainly didn’t have cooties anymore but like :// 

no no, you had to give this jungkook guy the benefit of the doubt

if he was one of the best, it was clearly because he was professional and good at what he does 

putting your worries to rest, you turn off the shower 

this was going to be fine

just fine 

clearly your worries were not put to rest 

just a temporary halt 

:) 

pat. pat. pat. 

okay let’s get it ! 

making your way out to the pool, you dip your foot in 

ooooo 

cold

VERY cold indeed 

1 ...2...

you dip your whole leg in, quickly using the momentum to place your whole body in 

“5 feet and below ... you’re my bitch !!” you think to yourself 

your hand still clearly gripping onto the ledge, still afraid of accidentally reaching 6ft

.... now to wait 

“megan seems to have fractured her leg last weekend on a rollerskating day gone bad, so you’ll be taking up her appointments for the next month of two until she’s cleared for work” 

huh ???

“but—” 

“also she, well now you i guess, have a lesson to teach at..” 

jungkook’s supervisor looks down at his watch 

“oh i guess in 30 minutes, could’ve sworn it was at 4..” he mumbles that last part to himself

30 minutes?! 

“don’t worry i’ll up your pay for the remaining time that she gets better” 

he winks ;) making a clicking noise with his mouth before leaving the staff room 

jungkook sighs 

today was supposed to be an easy day :/ 

a simple cleaning of the pool along with a couple of measly hours of being the lifeguard and that would’ve been it but noooo 

he just had to be the highest rated swimming instructor on the company website 

he couldn’t complain though, sometimes it was fun reading the reviews past students left, even if sometimes they were a little too...

whats the word...

provocative? 

it often made him wonder if he was in fact an actual good swimming instructor or if the high highly rated reviews were for other reasons.... 

honestly it’d be dumb of him not to acknowledge the amount of googly eyes he’d get ranging from the mother’s of his younger students to his actual adult students (female and male) 

he just liked to think that didn’t come into play when they wrote their reviews 

hehe 

changing into his black fitted rash guard, he glanced at megan’s schedule 

name : y/n 

age: 23 grown

swimming level: beginner  aka noob. 

he chuckles to himself 

well won’t this be fun 

he couldn’t lie beginner adult swimmers were always a spectacle to watch 

they almost reminded him of baby ducks learning how to swim 

only that they’d verbally curse their frustrations here and there 

quickly showering, he begins to make his way to the pool 

hmm, he wonders..

what should he eat after today’s lesson? 

a bacon cheese burger sounded really good 

maybe even grab himself some birria tacos from that new restaurant that just opened near his apartment 

hmm no he had to start spending less on takeout 

sigh 

looks like it’d be rame—

woah 

as corny as it sounded, he could’ve sworn he felt his heart skip a beat 

because whoever it was in that pool was pretty, like really pretty 

hOly ????? 

wowzers 

you couldn’t be y/n ... could you?!?!?! 

you were the only person who looked 23 years of age in the pool ...

ermmmmmm 

mayday mayday 

jungkook.exe has STOPPED WORKING  

whoever this jungkook person was, sure was taking their time 

deciding to have some fun before your lesson, you begin to gently play with the water 

swish. swoosh , the water goes 

soon you’d be well on your way to becoming the next michael phelps 

hehe 

maybe with time you’d even be able to a somersault in the water like your friend always—

“y/n?” a voice from behind says your name

ah finally 

taking in a deep breath, you turn your attention to the so called “best swimming instructor” 

OH.

MY .

GOD. 

WHAT ?????? 

this man looked like he came straight out of GQ magazine !!!! 

this HAD to be some mistake , there was just no way ... 

your cheeks feel as if they were burning up 

probably because they quite literally were 

there was no way you’d be able to come here every saturday for the next month, not without fawning for this dude every single minute 

“u-um” 

of course you were a stuttering mess

of FuCkiNg course 

“that’s me” 

cue the awkward smile 

:) 

“be professional” jungkook tells himself

at the end of the day, you were his student 

any crush on you would just have to wait until of course ... you were no longer his student 

for now the only goal was : teach you how to swim 

the next one down the list being : to take you out on a date ! 

he offers you a handshake 

wow he had a strong grip 

“i’m jungkook, i’ll be your swimming instructor for the next month” 

he flashes you his all too famous smile

there was just no way this man was real

just nO wAy 

“um..” 

crap, you were still holding his hand! 

idiot, idiot, idiot ! 

“sorry” you awkwardly laugh 

ha ha ha 

so funny 

:/ 

god did you just want to hide to disappear 

“it’s fine” he laughs 

even his laugh was attractive :( 

ugh 

“so y/n, before we begin with anything, i think it’s important to review about what kind of things you already know and what you don’t” 

oh right ... 

for a moment you had COMPLETELY forgotten you were here for swimming lessons 

how embarrassing 

“oh um..” 

um, um , um. 

IS THAT ALL YOU KNEW HOW TO SAY???? 

“so like floating, holding your breath underwater, pushing, gliding, arm movement, that kind of stuff,” he explains 

you knew a cool trick to make it look like you were water bending :D 

of course you weren’t going to admit that here 

silently you nod your head no 

he gives you a reassuring smile, sensing your timidness 

“that’s fine, only more for us—” he corrects himself, “for you to learn,” he laughs 

hey you weren’t complaining 

;) 

“so i personally always like to start off with teaching my students how to float. as long as we get that down then you’ll have no problem learning the rest” 

gosh his smile was so infectious 

shaking your head, you reminded yourself that this was your teacher 

+ you paid 300 bucks for these classes, so you couldn’t afford to be giving him the googly eyes all day 

you were so cute :( 

jungkook couldn’t help but find you so endearing 

the color of your swimming goggles even matched your swim suit :(( 

so cute ! 

“okay so the first thing i want you to practice is going underwater for a couple of seconds, just so you get used it,” he instructs, “i’ll demonstrate” 

taking in a deep breath, he goes down under 

1...2...3 

he’s back up 

pausing for about another three seconds, he takes in another deep breath of air before going back under 

1...2....3...4....5

he repeats the same thing over and over, until the max count becomes 20. 

“use my finger as your reference of when to go up, but come up for air whenever you feel like you need to. it’s important to go at your own pace, so don’t feel pressured to get it the first try” 

no pressure at all 

okay 

“you ready?” 

you nod your head 

“okay, deep breath in”

you sink your head underwater, mentally counting the three seconds before going back up 

“good job,” he gives you a high five, and you almost feel like a schoolgirl, “now let’s try to five seconds” 

woo!!! 5 seconds here you come !! 

taking in a deep breath you go down under again 

1....2.....3....4...5

easy peasy ... LEMON SQUEEZY 

“okay now to ten” 

1.....2......3......4.....5......6....7

umm

now why were these seconds going by slow all of a sudden? 

sucking it up you manage to make it to 10, but not without being out of breath 

“you okay?” he’s quick to ask 

yup, totally fine ! 

you definitely didn’t see the gates of heaven for a quick moment :D 

nodding your head, you enthusiastically say, “let’s go for 15″ 

he smiles at your enthusiasm

ahh so cute 

“1....2.....3......4......5.......6......7......8......9.....10.....11.....12....13...

nope nope nope

you were not going to make it to 15 

immediately you make your way back to the surface, trying to catch your breath 

“hey you did amazing,” he immediately reassures you, “remember as long your going your own pace then you’re doing just fine” 

<3 

well doesn’t that make you feel better 

you wonder if he’s this kind to all his students 

besides the most obvious reason, there was no question as to why he was the “most popular” instructor 

and to think you had been complaining earlier !! 

and soon you’re back underwater, going at your own pace until finallyyyy you’re able to make the 20 second count 

“nice !!” he genuinely celebrates with you, making you feel completely proud for yourself 

“okay now that we have that done, we can move onto learning how to float facing both front and back” 

ohhhhh

he was just thinking ahead 

cool :o 

“so what i want you do is first relax,” he laughs, gently pushing your stiff shoulders down 

as if your blush couldn’t get any deeper 

“now my personal belief is that all humans can naturally float, just that for others, it takes a bit of a push to get them at that state,” he begins to explain 

others meaning people like um you 

“the key to floating is to relax” 

oh you’ve heard that before

many MANY times and each time you’ve tried to so called “relax” you just end up sinking 

“the moment you fight or stress for even a tiny bit, you will sink. now i know what you’re thinking, ive heard that before” 

damn 

he was good 

“but sadly it’s true, until you learn to relax then you’ll be able to swim” 

you sigh 

this was where it became hard 

you were the queen of stress 

you and stress went hand in hand almost like a married couple 

it was just that deep water was scary !! very very scary !! 

the amount of horror stories you’d seen on tiktok was enough for you to know, ocean = scary 

“so here’s what i need you to do, i need you to place your arms on top of the water like as if you’re going to fly” 

you follow his commands 

he separates your arms, which had been too close together, giving them a small rub 

“remember you need to relax y/n,” he chuckles, feeling the tension in your arms

“relax, i need to relax,” you repeat 

“okay now right now when i tell you, you’re gonna take a deep breath in and look down, from there you’re gonna let you body move forward. so remember you’re not gonna jump, you’re just gonna let your body glide forward and float. almost as if you’re flying to me,” he explains 

mm it was easier said than done  

“you ready?” 

“okay deep breath in” 

you inhale a deep breath in 

“look down” 

you do that as well 

“and let go” 

slowly your body begins to rise on its own 

oh my god !!!!! 

you were about to float!!!!! 

the day has come !!!

no more staying at 5 feet and under 

you were ready to hang with the big kids :D 

but as quick as the momentum came, the faster it left because soon you felt yourself sinking, the breathing exercise jungkook had made you do now coming in handy 

no!!!! 

you almost had it :( 

it was right in your grasp, only to have it snatched away 

not wanting to offend you, jungkook keeps his giggles to himself 

“hey at least you almost had it,” he comforts you, “let’s just try again” 

you sigh, now letting your doubts creep in 

because of this, this time your body almost immediately sank this time

he frowns 

you were losing confidence :/ 

“come on i’ll help you” 

grabbing your hands, he signals for you to follow his breathing pattern

“deep breath in” 

“deep breath out” 

god, was his voice soothing 

“i need you to relax y/n, let everything go” 

a soft feeling of relaxation washes over you, similar to that feeling you’d get when you were on the verge of sleeping

“i’m gonna let you go at the count of three, and then you’re going to float, okay?” 

silently you nod, knowing that speaking would only cause you to tense up again 

“1...2....” 

he lets go, and soon you’re floating, just like he said you would 

you hold your breathe for a good while before standing back up, a huge smile on your face 

“holy shit! i did it!!” 

he gives you high five with both of his hands, for a second holding them before letting go 

“now let’s try floating on your back” 

he notices that there’s now a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before

clearly you were now more determined to learn, excited too

preparing yourself to float once more, you realize you were missing something.... 

“jungkook...” 

he tilts his head, confused by the faint blush on your cheeks 

“do you think you can um—” 

now it was his turn to blush 

“o-oh yeah” 

what was his problem??? 

you were a student asking for help 

that was all ...

point blank. 

he helps you get on your back, his hand placed under your back as a way to keep you up 

“1....2....” 

you float easily again!! 

“nice!!” he smiles 

summer, here you come !! 

“okay so we’re gonna keep practicing that for the remaining time that we have and next week i’ll start teaching you about stroke techniques and which ones are easiest to do” 

nodding your head, you practice your floating by the end of the hour  having it practically mastered 

the two of you get out of the pool, now drying off 

“you’re a really fast learner y/n,” he compliments you 

hehe 

you mean, you didn’t wanna brag butttt 

you were a fast learner indeed 

“thank you,” you say in return, “but that’s only because you’re a great teacher” 

woah 

did you really say that :o 

aren’t you feeling a little bold today y/n  

his blush returns for the second time today

well technically you weren’t in class anymore ... 

a little flirting wouldn’t hurt right? 

if only he knew what to say .... 

hmmmm 

“well at least you won't ever drown!” 

HUH???????

jungkook, you idiot !!!!! 

someone needed to smack him straight in the face for that ! 

at least you won’t drown????

no fucking shit 

well there goes his chances with you now going down the drain 

but to his surprise, you laugh 

“you’re right, i won’t,” you say in return, “well i’ll see you next weekend jungkook” 

you flash him a smile, and he was certain he felt butterflies in his stomach 

walking into the girl’s locker room, you let out a sigh of relief

wheeeeew ! 

faking confidence was hard ! 

very VERY hard 

“so today you’re going to learn how to stroke so you can officially be called someone who knows how to swim, next week you’ll learn to tread water and continue perfecting your swimming, and then the final week i’ll teach you some fun extra things” 

“sounds good,” you say, definitely excited to learn more. 

“okay so now that you know how to float, right now when you float facing downward, you’re going to pull against the current with your arms, alternating each one. now the tricky part is that while you do that, you also have to paddle your legs a little and come up for air when you need to, and when you’re back in the water you should slowly be exhaling bubbles of air rather than holding your breath” 

well that sounded hard :/ 

“let me give you a demonstration,” jungkook says

he’s quick to float facing downward, showing you the maneuver he wanted you to learn while coming up for air every five seconds

thought it was a little childish, he somehow still looked good doing it 

he truly was blessed with the looks of a god 

he comes out the water

“okay now your turn” 

you nod your head, that determined look you had on your face last week now returning 

following his example, you begin your attempt at paddling and stroking your arms at the same time

SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! 

immediately you begin to panic and water begins to splash everywhere, including on jungkook 

noticing your panicked state, jungkook is quick to grab you and place you back on your feet 

“hey hey, i got you,” he comforts you, not wanting you to feel discouraged 

you sigh 

:/ 

well that was embarrassing 

“remember y/n you have to learn to coordinate everything, so think of it this way. your legs have to always be paddling, it’s the arm and coming up for air that switch roles. when you come up for air, it’s only your legs paddling, while when you’re head is back underwater it’s both your legs and arms paddling. once you get that pattern, the bubbling will come naturally” 

you make an ohhhhh face

you could do that ! 

“remember what i told you last weekend y/n, you need to relax and be comfortable so you can build confidence. there’s no need to panic because i’m here,” he smiles at you 

gosh this just wasn't fair >:( 

cute and charming ???? 

this boy really had it all 

not wanting to disappoint, you try one more time, failing once again 

now you were frustrated :/ 

“damn it,” you mumble to yourself, a sadness to your voice

jungkook feels his heart swell 

he didn’t like seeing you sad :( 

but doggy paddling was the most basic technique he could teach you so he couldn’t really cheer you up by offering a different technique 

you needed to learn to doggy paddle before you could move on to the more bigger strokes

damn it ://  

“hey don’t feel bad about not getting right away,” he gives you a small smile, “i remember when i first started learning it took me forever to even learn how float, so the fact that you’re already at this point is enough of an accomplishment” 

well that makes you feel little better ... 

“but you were probably a kid, im ...” 

old , is what you want to say 

figuring what you were gonna say, he only laughs 

“who said i was a kid? i was probably like 19″ 

whaaaaaattttt! 

assuming he was your age (which he was), you do the quick maths in your head 

that was like .... 4 years ago ! 

how the hell did he get so good in such little time???? enough to be teaching courses ??? 

“not knowing how to swim is nothing to be embarrassed about y/n, if anything it takes a lot of courage to even sign up for a class so don’t beat yourself up too much for not getting it right away” 

he ruffles your wet hair, a small affectionate gesture 

you didn’t know how it was possible but you were falling for this man and QUICKLY at that 

he was just so ??$%@^! 

UGHHHH

“so let’s try one more time, and if you still can’t get it then we’ll push it to next week, a free extra lesson on me” 

eeeeek 

though the temptation to purposely fails was very intriguing indeed, you still had to try for the sake of it 

if you got it, you got it, and if you didn't well .... 

an extra week with jungkook it was :D 

“you ready?” 

you nod your head 

“1...2...” 

you float and begin to paddle, this time actually getting the hang of it !!!

you hear jungkook’s muffled voice from above the surface, “there you go!!” 

holy shit ! 

you officially knew how to swim !!! 

at least enough to save your own life if push came to shove 

once you were out of breath, you stand back up, a grin on both of your faces 

for jungkook it was hard not to tackle you in excitement so instead he settled for a very enthusiastic high five 

“you did it!” he cheers 

“ahhh!” you giggle like a child 

“from here on out, the rest is a piece of cake!” 

yay yay yay !!! 

“now let’s start working on deeper strokes, maybe we’ll even have time to throw in backstrokes!”

:////

noticing your changed expression, he awkwardly laughs while scratching his neck 

“or maybe not” 

this week was the final week of swimming lesson with jungkook

:(( 

last week’s lesson of treading water and perfecting your swim seemed to had gone by in literally the blink of an eye ! 

and so today was possible the last time you’d see jungkook unless you managed to grow the balls and ask him out once that clock hit 4, once you were no longer his “student"

by now you were 100% sure you liked the dude... like a lot 

and he was definitely someone you wanted to get to know outside of this pool 

you just weren’t sure if he liked you the same way 

you mean yeah there were definitely times that had you raising an eyebrow here and there, but you always excused it as him simply being a kind hearted person by nature 

because clearly his five star rating on the company’s website had to come from somewhere 

not that you checked or anything....

who were you kidding 

yes you did

your favorite review was the one that went..

“wow!! this dude is amazing !! came here for beginner lessons and even i found myself fawning for the dude , and i don’t even play for that side of the team !! not only were his lessons thorough, but he’s a very charming person ! 10/10 recommend!” 

and so you were stuck 

did he liked you or was he just treating you like he treated everyone?? 

“ahh y/n,” jungkook’s voice suddenly brings you back to reality 

“today’s our final lesson!” he announces, not sounding too sad

in fact he sounded excited  

damn :/ 

he playfully jumps into the pool, today being his so called “fun day” 

“so since today’s your last lesson i thought i could teach you how to do a.....” 

he pauses for dramatic purposes 

“SOmERSAuLT!!”

immediately your eyes light up 

ahhhhhHHHH!!!! 

you always wanted to learn how to do a somersault in water, remembering the number of times you’d look at your friend in jealousy whenever she did one 

“you ready??” 

eagerly you nod your head yes

“okay so the steps to doing a summersault is first of course, you need to take a deep breath” 

okayyyy 

“from there you tuck your chin to your chest, next you do the moment of the somersault by swinging your chest forward and gently kicking out your legs, so basically forming a ball and then kicking out.  naturally, if you have enough momentum, you’ll spin, but if you don’t just use your arms to complete it” 

“think you can give me a demonstration?” you innocently ask 

he winks at you, “of course i can” 

taking in a deep breath, he follows his own instructions, and you watch he perfectly executes his somersault 

“woahhh, that was so cool!” you say, even now finding the trick to be amazing 

“now i dont expect you to get it right away, so right now that you try i’m going tog hide you thought the movement so you get the gist of it” 

sounds fair enough 

you weren’t trying to drown on your last day either 

“okay, you ready?” 

“yes” 

“let’s get it!” 

taking a deep breath in, you feel jungkook’s hand get placed on your back, ready to push you so you could do the somersault 

“1...2...” 

and slowly you feel yourself spin with the help of jungkook, a smile already forming on your face 

“ahhh!” you smile big and wide, causing Jungkook to smile along with you 

“you think you’re ready to try it on your own???” 

“yes sir” 

“okay 1....2....” 

mustering up as much as force you possible could, you push yourself into ball and successfully do the somersault 

YUPPPPP 

WHOSE DOING IT LIKE YOU???!$%@$!

feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline, you begin to splash water all over once you come back up for air, declaring an all out water fight with jungkook 

soon the two of you are chasing one another, you now using your new swimming abilities to get away 

hehe 

you’re a swimmer 

:D 

the sound of jungkook’s infectious laughter fill the air and soon you feel him grab your waist at an attempt to stop you 

“gotcha” he says, and he turns you around to face him 

slowly each other’s heavy breathing becomes relaxed, and it’s as if you’ve felt a shift occur in what you considered your new “friendship” 

“so....” he awkwardly says, hands still wrapped around your waist 

his was was RED

like cherry tomatoes red 

this only makes you giggle 

if you had doubts before, you DEFINITELY didn’t have em anymore 

he liked you :)))) 

and you liked him :)))) 

and in ten minutes you were officially no longer his student so......

“there’s this new restaurant that opened near my place....” you say 

immediately his eyes light up 

“cancun eats?” 

you nod your head and he gives you a toothy grin 

“i was wondering if you’d want to go out some time...” you muster up the courage to ask him out 

%^@%!@&!@^&@%! = jungkook’s brain 

holy crap !!! 

you liked him!!! 

he wasn’t just delusional !!! 

“hello?? jungkook??” you laugh, waving a hand in front of his face for jungkook.exe had truly stopped working this time 

nodding his head yes like a child,  the two of you being to lean closer to another, the clear goal in mind being each other’s lips

because honestly you’d come this far now, might as well give him a .... 

“wait!” he suddenly interrupts  he glances at the digital clock on the wall, remembering your final lesson officially ends at 4

because no way in hell was he going to get fired for kissing a student on the clock 

3:59 

.....

4:00 

“okay now,” he smiles, and you only roll your eyes, happy to have taken up on those swimming lessons. 

a/n : i was gonna make this longer but this was always meant to be a small little head canon so :))) pls give this a like, comment, or a reblog if you enjoyed it !! (if u can of course) and my ask box is always open for whatever !! :)) see yall next time 💞

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter two

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: torture, nightmares, angst, let me know if there's anything else :) 

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: honestly I have no clue where I’m going but I’m hoping you’re all still following. There’s still soooo much to go into readers past and yep, it’s gonna take a while but I hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to give feedback, like and repost it would mean a lot! :)

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

1943

Your head felt groggy, as you woke up. Not enough energy from an ounce of your body to open your eyes for the time being. The more your body woke up from the darkness of slumber the more the pounding of aches and pains became less subtle and started to fill each and every muscle. You weren’t sure where you were or what had happened, but you suddenly became aware that your surroundings weren’t familiar. The air was too cool and there was an eeriness from lack of noise.

Finally, you were able to pry your eyes open. The colours swirled around you into one, until they became to create recognisable shapes. Although this wasn’t somewhere you recognised, just as your mind had thought even before getting to look around.

You were laid down on a metal ‘bed’ if you could even call it a bed. The coolness of the metal began to get to you a shiver running down your spine and you attempted to get up. Only to be restricted. It was now when you noticed you had straps holding your ankles, down, but not only this; there was a limpness to your form. In fact, you didn’t have any real connection to your muscles. As if a switch had been turned on in your head you realised, this wasn’t a bed. It was a table.

Suddenly your anxiety rose. In an ill attempt to do something you turned you head groggily to the left, only to be met with machines, and hospital devices. You took in a sharp breath. This definitely wasn’t a hospital so why the machines? Rolling your head to the right with just as much difficultly as last time you were met with darkness. The faint sound of feet shuffling in the distance, and the whirring of more machines.

Almost as if whoever it was had realised you were awake, a bright white light turned on above you causing you to groan from the sudden contrast to the previous darkness. The footsteps became louder, as whoever it was approached you from their hiding spot.

“Ah you’re awake,” the voice started, “you know you gave our men quite a difficult time back there. Are you going to behave this time?”

Your voice barely was able to respond, only a hushed whisper came out, “Who are you? Where am I?” This worked to rejog your memory as you saw flashes of men running after you, as you had leapt from this same table. You had gotten pretty far and fought back fairly well but this place… whatever it was; was a maze. Realising now that amongst being kidnapped and knocked unconscious. Your first attempt to escape was probably why you were in pain all over. A vision of a few men jumping on top of you and beating you unconscious. Again. That must have been why you were tied down this time.

“I think you know the answer to that.” the small man with glasses responded appearing finally out of the darkness. “…We’re HYDRA, and you y/n...” He spoke reaching under your chin in a condescending manner. “…Were firstly going to be a pawn against your stupid Captain America. But you’ve shown promise, something our other soldiers don’t have.  Neither your American ones. My guess is it comes from your ballet training.” He shrugged as he moved away from you, turning and looking for something. Suddenly his hand was on a switch and machines began to rumble.

“Please,” you responded choking on your own words, “please just kill me!” You knew something was coming, otherwise why would be so aloof.

He chuckled at your words as he stood behind you. “The red skull doesn’t want me to do that, he needs more soldiers, and that’s exactly what we’re going to make you.” And with that you saw a metal machine slowly being dropped down over your left eye, and below your right jaw, causing your panic to rise. As quick as the unbearable pain started, so did darkness.

Present day ; 2017

You woke up screaming as the pain of what had happened almost a century ago shot through your entire body. You fumbled out of bed in a sweat like you did most nights. Heading towards your small kitchen in your small apartment. It was filled with greys, no life within in, you felt there was no need, why celebrate a life with no life?

Your life had changed in so many ways after 1943. You were one of HYDRA’S many toys, the many men that surrounded you called you tiny dancer, but not in a kind way, in a misogynistic arrogant way. Most people at that time though saw you as a weapon, something to be feared of, and they should have.

After you had stumbled upon the Winter Soldier on a mission in 2014 working as a freelance agent having cut your ties with HYDRA mere months before hand, it was only a few months when so had Captain America. From what you had heard amongst assassins under the radar living in Madripoor like you, it hadn’t gone well for HYDRA and now the Winter Soldier was nowhere to be found, invoking fear within many who had made themselves enemies to him. But you were sure his best friend would be looking for him. Whilst you had decided to go against helping him, Steve was not that kind of person.

Time had not been kind to you, you were no longer the frail girl who could fall in love in a week. In fact, you weren’t sure if you actually could feel love anymore. HYDRA had to make sure there was no collateral. Still once you saw him that night you wondered how amongst your many years with HYDRA, how you had never run into Bucky: The Winter Soldier. You had heard of the winter soldier, but you never knew it was Bucky behind the ghost of a person. Probably on purpose, HYDRA had been in your mind. Tthere was no doubt they knew who he was to you back then.

Not only did it invoke these thoughts, but it had led to your retirement. Well not your retirement, you were still about 25 years old on the outside, and though nor Steve or Bucky knew you were alive you knew how it felt to be in their position.

Hiding out in your small apartment in Madripoor was where you had spent most of your life since 2014, staying on the down low in case HYDRA somehow re-emerged, looking for revenge on a project they had wasted so much time on. You.  

You weren’t sure why they were so surprised people like you hated them with so much anger. They had taken your life, Bucky’s life and made you weapons against your will. You didn’t hold their values, it was forced upon you.

You shook yourself from your thoughts again. You only got sentimental after nightmares, and the nightmares had been pretty continuous after seeing Bucky those few years ago, so really you were sentimental most mornings. You think it had something to do with seeing him and how it brought back memories you didn’t even know you had.

Reaching for a bottle of water, you took a sip looking over at the clock that read 3am. You groaned, knowing that you’d probably never have a good night’s sleep again. Terrible payback for a terrible past. No sleep for the wicked.

You shuffled yourself back to your room getting into bed and turning on the tv as a way to mindlessly distract yourself until you actually had to do stuff.

A few hours past until it was 7am, and you decided you could at least go for a shower before your day at work. Working at a bar that opened at 9am wasn’t exactly high class living; especially when you had to deal with drunks so early in the day, so it definitely required more motivation than most jobs. You couldn’t do what you were originally good at, dance. And you’d decided you probably shouldn’t be doing what you were trained for. Killing people.

Turning on the shower to allow it to warm up, you rid yourself of your clothes, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles were after another bad dream. Stepping in you let the water try and wash it away, and though it did help you knew it would only reappear tonight in another form of a nightmare. You closed your eyes sighing in content, and it did last for a brief moment until you heard banging on your front door.

At first you tried to ignore it, but it got louder and more aggravated and suddenly your heart had fell to your stomach, resorting to thinking of the worst that could be behind that door. Getting out you threw some clothes back on. You reached under your bed grabbing your shot gun, holding it close to yourself as you slowly walked towards the door that had started banging again. Times like this you wished you had a peep hole to look through.

You turned on your best poker face and opened the door abruptly to be more hostile. Only you were met with someone you didn’t know, though for some reason you felt you recognised. On the other side of the door stood a woman all in black, her hair was in a blonde bob and for a brief second you thought you saw a reaction flash across her face like she knew you too.

“Is this y/n?” she spoke firmly and with poise.

You raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Is it?” she returned her poker face staying on her face.

“Yes.” You huffed, the half-amused face falling from your face, returning back to the glare you constantly wore. “Who are you?”

She raised her hand for you to shake her face accompanying it with a small smile, which you hesitantly took.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel​ @thatredlipped-classic​ @flightsandfantasy​ @7minutes-tomidnight​ @rebelemilu​ 

[floraliaison]

[ melodrama ] ― track i | homemade dynamite

political au. ushijima wakatoshi x fem! reader.

3.1 k 

masterlist. next.

If there’s any one word you would prefer people to describe you as, it would have to be unquestionably loyal.

After all, it’s just past seven, and you haven’t yet drunk enough whiskey as you would like to, but when Oikawa tells you about a new guy you must hate, you don’t even think twice before agreeing.

He shifts the drink in his hand, ice cubes clinking together while he side-eyes the group of men from across the veranda, no doubt burning holes into the back of his intended target’s head as he mutters, “And there he is.”

You whip your head to the right, not caring enough about subtlety because this is your house and you can and will look at whoever you damn please.

His directions don’t really help much, you soon realize, because there are a hundred and one of Eita’s friends huddled around the end of the buffet table where the drinks are located.

“There are a bunch of ‘he’s over there, Oiks. Which one?” you hiss under your breath, craning your neck to see if you can pick anyone out from the crowd.

There’s Leon, Kenjiro, Hayato, and a handful of other people you recognize but can’t recall the names of. All that matters is that they’re all annoying, and they’re all here.

You’d think Oikawa’s taste in men has improved in the six years you’ve been gone, but if he actually says it’s one of them then you’ve apparently thought wrong.

“The tall one, Y/N,” Oikawa says as though this is the most obvious thing in the world. His rings glint in the dim light as he discreetly points at one in the far back. “The one with the white jacket.”

Finally, you spot whoever it is he’s referring to, and the next thing out of your mouth is a crisp “What the fuck?”

Oikawa snorts in derision – why he would when he’s the laughingstock in this particular situation, you’ll never know, but that still doesn’t stop you from echoing the sound back.

“I leave my best friend alone for a few years, and when I come back you’re suddenly all broken-hearted about Ushijima Wakatoshi?” You say, equal parts incredulous and disappointed. Said best friend only shrugs in response, chugging the rest of his rum before slamming the empty glass down on the table.

“Save it, princess. Iwa’s already lectured me about the whole ‘you have terrible taste’ and ‘you should stop going after guys who you know are only going to break your heart’ thing,” he shoots back, his use of air quotes telling you that no, he didn’t – and probably still doesn’t – follow Iwaizumi’s advice. You roll your eyes, comeback already on the tip of your tongue, when —

“Hold on,” the boy next to you suddenly sits up straight, eyes wide open and staring at you. “How come you know him?”

“Well who doesn’t know him?”

Although you deliver it in a way that comes off as mildly sarcastic, all of his prominent social, athletic, and political embellishments have served to establish Ushijima Wakatoshi as a household name; both in Tokyo and throughout the rest of Japan.

But while that’s true, you for one can’t say that you know the man in the way that Oikawa is implying. Despite belonging in the same political circle, what with both your fathers’ professions, you have yet to properly interact outside of the social niceties required for the few parties and fundraisers you’ve seen him at.

From what you are able to discern the first few times you have been able to talk to him though, you are one hundred percent certain that you disliked the man to an almost frightening degree. His stoicism, apparent indifference and boundless pride rub off of you the wrong way, and you’ve been actively ignoring him at every meeting afterwards.

Your friend lets out another snort – you’ve half a mind to change his contact name to horse at this point – while you raise an eyebrow at his accusatory finger-wagging, almost daring him to say what’s so clearly on his mind.

Because despite wearing a short white number to stave off the summer heat that dominated the venue just hours prior, you have absolutely zero qualms about giving Tooru a thorough beat-down if necessary.

“There you guys are.”

Someone plops down into the vacant seat to your left, and when you turn to see a familiar, non-douchey face, you break into a smile.

“Hey, Haji,” you greet Iwaizumi as you lean against his side.

The faint blush that spreads across Oikawa’s face doesn’t escape you when you sneak a glance at him. Despite having his mind preoccupied by Ushijima, it looks like the brunette still hasn’t let go of his little crush on the final member of your trio. “Iwa-chaan, we waited forever. What took you so long?”

“Got lost, your house is fucking huge Y/N,” Iwaizumi explains, setting down his glass of his newest alcoholic concoction as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Good thing I ran into your brother, few more minutes and I would’ve lost my mind in there.”

You snicker at him, a low mumble of “and you claim Tooru’s the stupid one” escaping you because honestly, your house isn’t that big. He might just not admit it but it’s common knowledge that Hajime’s a bit... directionally challenged, to say the least.

Ignoring the glare he sends your way, you nonchalantly pick up his drink and take a sip. “Ah, very nice. You really should consider bartending, Haji, you’ve got the talent for it,” you remark, handing Oikawa the glass for him to taste. 

Iwaizumi’s skill in mixing spirits was one the three of you discovered during one of your first parties, when you and Tooru had complained about how shitty the drinks were. Hajime, in a true gentlemanly fashion, had grabbed a couple of bottles off the counter and kept the two of you well-provided for for the remainder of the event. (and for every other event that came after it.)

The spiky-haired lawyer only rolls his eyes at your words, plucking the crystalware out of Oikawa’s hands before he could finish it off amidst the latter’s ungodliest of whines. “What were you doing anyway? Looked like you were discussing some deep stuff when I came in.”

You separate from him, putting your hands on your hips and adopting a haughty tone, “We are slandering Ushijima Wakatoshi, and his ways of ill-repute. You, by declaration of the Mistress, which is me, and by Friendship Code 70040, is hereby required to join as well.”

“I’ll pass, Wakatoshi’s cool,” Hajime comments around a sip of alcohol, and the casual use of Ushijima’s first name is enough to give you pause.

“Okay, first of all how are you on a first name basis with him and second, you’re a guy.” you exclaim, throwing your hands up for emphasis. “Of course you’d think that!”

“First question: I worked with him for a bit two years ago, not gonna say anything more because company rules, but we talked and he’s really nice,” Iwaizumi holds up two fingers. “Second, sure I am, but even your brother thinks so, too.”

“The world doesn’t just consist of Eita.”

“Alright, you both better shut it because the topic of your very heated conversation is heading right here,” Oikawa interrupts, poking you in the side and sending a look at Iwaizumi.

You groan in response and shake your head. Even during your time abroad, you’ve been unable to escape his presence; from the posters promoting his team for the 2014 World League to the numerous brand advertisements three years later, Wakatoshi was everywhere.

But - and you’ll never admit to this out loud, not ever - even though all you’ve seen of him was in print, on the television, and in the occasional social media update, you could never deny the fact that the man was handsome.

Tooru is attractive, as evidenced by the sheer number of his admirers in high school, Hajime has received his own fair share of confessions and Valentine’s Day chocolates, and you have to admit that your brother is objectively good-looking as well.

And while it’s a confession you have to make under duress, Wakatoshi is a completely different case altogether. You’d thought you were stunned when Miya Atsumu came to your offices to help promote the newly rolled-out banking app, but even he can’t really compare.

Nothing can really do with perfectly gelled olive hair, pristine three-piece suit slightly strained against a muscular build, and the undeniable aura that exuded power and demanded respect.

One would have to be practically blind not to feel attracted to Ushijima (but even then, you think that the timbre of his voice can still make anyone weak in the knees), but because you have no shame and are definitely not above pettiness, you maintain a disgusted-looking sneer as you watch him make his way to your table.

“Hey Toshi,” Oikawa says, the red from before making a reappearance as he takes in the newcomer with eager eyes.

“Good evening, Oikawa,” Ushijima replies, but it’s clear that his attention is focused elsewhere; namely, on you.

Your skin crawls at the weight of the stare he’s pinning on you, but you veto the urge to flip him off right then and there because that would be against proper decorum. Your patience is running thin though, and he needs something else to stare at immediately or so help him God you will do it.

“Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi intervenes, bless him, and offers a hand towards the taller. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hajime,” Ushijima grasps the appendage and gives it a firm shake, but his gaze still hasn’t left you. ”It’s good to see you.” 

“Yo Ushiwaka! Get back over here!” One of the miscreants across the veranda calls out, standing beside what seems to be a set-up for a round of beer pong. You can’t help but make a face when you catch sight of it because what did they think this was, some messy Saturday night college party? These guys really had no taste.

Ushijima finally turns around to head back to his friends, but not without shooting you one last cursory glance over his shoulder; a glance that you dutifully avoid despite every single cell in your body pushing you to return it and have him catch sight of the hellfire burning in your gaze for doing whatever it is that he did to Tooru.

Because damn it, no one hurts your friends or family and gets away with it. Not even over your dead body, because God knows you will rise from the dead just to get retribution on their behalf.

The minute Wakatoshi’s out of earshot, you scoff into your glass of whiskey, hastily downing it in one go because you’d need more of it in your system if you wanted to survive tonight with him around.

In the entirety of your 26 years, never have you once thought yourself as unlucky. Horribly ill-timed, sure, but unlucky? Nope.

Or at least, not until tonight.

“If it isn’t Miss Semi,” a smooth baritone sounds from behind you, nearly causing you to drop the container you’re holding in surprise. “Good evening.”

You seethe, ready to give the person a piece of your mind for almost being the (however indirect) culprit to the destruction of a 20-year old piece of china, and you have the gall to be so confrontational because you actually know who it is. Only one person in this entire house can be in possession of a voice that deep.

True enough, when you turn, it is Ushijima Wakatoshi who stands at the entrance to your kitchen in all of his six-foot-three glory, eyebrow cocked in a perfect arch as he regards you. He’s holding an empty wineglass in his left hand, and it looks like he’s come in here to have it refilled.

You aren’t sure what exactly about the situation brings all the blood rushing to your face; be it the anger you feel at seeing him so callously walk into your kitchen like he owns it instead of going to the refreshments table outside, or the feeling of something else at the sight of him in only his deep purple dress shirt; sleeves rolled up and top two buttons undone.

That, along with the fact that his hair is now slightly tousled, leaves you thinking that he looks positively sinful, if not for the smirk that’s painted on his stupid face. That one tiny detail pushes you to choose the first, and safer, option.

You roll your eyes.

“Yes, hello Ushijima,” you respond drily, slamming the cabinet shut to punctuate your tone. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

He simply raises the glass in his hand in response, and you are unable to get a biting comment in about how he should instead look for a refill outside instead of in here like some privileged dick when he speaks.

“Congratulations on the announcement,” he begins, stepping beyond the threshold and into the kitchen, thick carpet muffling the sounds of his polished Italian leather shoes as he makes his way towards you.

When he gets dangerously close to the boundary of the minimum three-feet you need to have between you and him at all times, you briefly consider getting violent and chucking the bowl at him just to be done with it, but he seems to have other plans when he stops by the marble island, a full one inch away from your protective perimeter.

Looks like your grandmother’s favorite crucible will live to see another day.

You see him eye you expectantly from his position, and realize that you’ve yet to respond to his statement. “Thank you. I understand that the same is in order for you as well, what with your succession of Madame Junko’s position.”

He nods, less confirmatory and more ‘I’ve found your answer satisfactory,’ and you cannot suppress the white-hot lance of annoyance that shoots through you at the memory that comes barrelling along with the simple gesture.

Suddenly, you’re both no longer OS Post Holdings or The Ushijima Telegraph and Telephone Corporation’s newly appointed presidents and CEOs, but mere fifteen year olds attending middle school at the same time.

Ushijima has always been the star student, and while your father has pushed you to make friends with the quiet boy, you’ve never found it in yourself to brush aside the vast difference present in the way he looks at Wakatoshi, with eyes and gestures full of a soft sense of pride, and then at you, all strict words and interactions that feel more business related than anything else.

You’re not stupid, never was and never will; you know that your father wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. And although he had twins - a girl and a boy - he saw Eita as more of a disappointment because of his unwillingness to live the life the patriarch of the family wanted him to.

So while your brother pursued his dreams in the music industry, you were left to shoulder the responsibility that came with the Semi family name. You studied rigorously, honed your talents, and polished your social skills until you shined, determined to be the brightest gem in the industry and the daughter your father would be proud of.

But even though you were not stupid, you were definitely naive. Naive to have thought that he would be satisfied with what he had, naive to have thought that he wouldn’t look somewhere else to fulfill his own personal dreams.

And that’s how you first met Ushijima, the son of Governor Utsui and your father’s new protegee, as he so proudly told you over dinner with him one Thursday night.

The only thing that kept you from breaking down then were the years spent at etiquette lessons, so you settled instead on gripping your silverware until your knuckles turned white. You could feel Eita’s eyes on you from across the table, and you didn’t have to look to know that they were apologizing for something that he didn’t even do.

The other two males in the room seemed oblivious to your imminent spiral, happily talking with each other and discussing whatever it is that they deemed important, and the fire in your heart that burned for the olive-haired boy grew into a full-fledged inferno.

That day marked the beginning of your lifelong grudge against Wakatoshi, and you still haven’t given it up to this day.

“Attention! I would just like to thank everyone for coming tonight -”

Your dad’s booming voice is what breaks you out of your reverie, and you realize that you have been staring - glowering, really - at the object of your ire for far too long than what can be deemed normal.

An open bottle of Romanée-Conti rests on the countertop by his elbow, and his previously empty wineglass is now half-full, the deep red liquid catching the fluorescent lights as he idly swirls it around.

Much like his wine, there is also something swirling in his sharp eyes, but you neither need to or wish to know what it is. You let out a disgruntled huff before heading out to the living room, shooting him one final glare as you round the corner and disappear.

Wakatoshi sighs to the empty room before he too, decides to head on out and meet with Representative Semi - your and Eita’s father - to offer him his congratulations.

He finishes the drink in his hand, wine tasting oddly bittersweet as it goes down his throat, and as he exits the kitchen, he wonders for the nth time that night how come you seemed to hate him with such a passion.

He’s not stupid, not like the way everyone seems to think he is just because he’s blunt, but if it’s taken him this long to realize that your feelings towards him go much deeper than a simple dislike, then he thinks that he may never find out the real reason as to why.

The thought doesn’t deter him though, and when he catches sight of the back of your head while you talk animatedly to Oikawa Tooru, laughing your heart out as though you weren’t staring daggers at him just minutes ago, he thinks that he will gladly spend a lifetime figuring you out.

You are a mystery to him, and one that he will stop at nothing to crack.

[ note ]  ― and there we have it! first time we’re meeting the cast, and if the overly zealous descriptions about ushi isn’t enough to display how whipped i am for him then probably nothing ever will. hope you all like this one as much as i loved writing it <3

also this is dedicated to @cafemiya​ for giving me the push i needed to make this entire series. hi issy i love you bae 🥺💖

[lunnybunny12]

Young Snape x Ravenclaw reader

All characters are in their 5th year at Hogwarts. Reader is a ravenclaw (A/N I am a Ravenclaw so...YES!)

"Y/N!" Lily said shaling you violently. "Y/N wake up!"

With a groan, you opened your eyes to see the redhead hovering over you with a mischievous smile on her face. "Come on, were going to Hogsmeade today."

"Who let you past the Ravenclaw knocker, Evans?" you giggled, rubbing the sleep out of your eye and yawning. The Ravenclaw house was infamously known for letting Ravenclaws and ONLEY Ravenclaws into the common room and since Lily was a Gryffindor, she definitely didn't get in on her own.

She faked shock as she dramatically placed her hand on her chest, with a gasp.

"(Y/N), I'm shocked that you assumed I had help."

You looked at her with tired eyes, you knew her too well.

"It was Xenophilius Lovegood"

"Now that makes sense" you replied to her in a groggy tone. Standing up from your bed, you grabbed whatever clothes you wanted to wear that day. "But I can't go, you know my "guardians" didn't sign the slip."

Lily's smile grew even wider as she handed you a piece of paper. You took a glance at the paper and quickly put two and two together.

"Oh my god, you didn't" you said snatching the sheet out of her fingers and opened it.

"No, I didn't. Sirius did."

On a once blank line at the bottom of the permission slip was now filled in with your guardians signature.

"H-how did?.."

"Don't ask me how but... he did. Now hurry and get dressed the boys will be halfway through breakfast buy now"

Time skip (your in your regular clothes and just entered the great hall)

The smell of toast and pumpkin juice hit the pair of you right in the face. It was breakfast time and buy the looks of it most people were still asleep, leaving all of the good stuff for the taking.

As you and Lily walked to the 4 marauders, you felt a pair of familiar eyes watching you. When you saw it was Severus Snape you smiled and gavehim a small wave in wich he shyly gave you one back.

Even as children, you and Lily had always been together. You found out you were witches together and you met Severus together. And despite his home life he was the kindest person you had ever met. When you found out you were going to the same magical school as him you were over the moon and so was he. When you actualy got to Hogwarts the 3 of you became as thick as theaves but when you met the marauders he slowly became distant with you ... it broke your heart.

"Ah here are the lovely ladies now," James said with a gleeful smile.

"What took you so long?" Sirius said, standing from his seat to allow room for Lily and you.

Lily gave them an apologetic smile and sat nest to James who took the opportunity to wrap his arm around her.

"Sirius, I owe you a favour" you said showing him the permission slip with a smile.

He gave you a cheeky smile and said with outstretched arms " How about a hug and we call it even?"

"Sounds like a deal,"you smiled as he pulled you into a hug. It lasted for about a minute until you felt eyes on you again. When you pulled away, you saw that Sirius was looking behind you with a smug grin on his lips. You followed his gaze to see Snape with a broken look in his eyes.

With a hint of anger on your face, you turned back to the curly-haired wizard. " You know, Sirius. Being an arrogant git doesn't suit you one bit" you hissed, tapped Lily on the shoulder, told her you'd see her in Hogsmeade and made your way out of the hall.

After giving your slip to Mcgonagall, you began your walk to Hogsmeade before everyone else. You knew the way since you had been before. The walk was quiet and it was a welcomed breath of fresh air. It was pleasantly quiet and calming, the sun was shining and the wind was whistling through the trees.  

Halfway through your walk you heard some movement behind you, you turned around you saw the familiar black-haired boy you had known for years. He looked somewhat shocked to see you and you too were surprised at first. He never seemed like the type of person to go to Hogsmead, but it was good to see him out of the castle.

"Oh hello Severus, I thought I was here by myself."

His shock was slowly disappearing and he took a few steps to walk around you. "I apologise...ill... get out of your way"

"What? no."  You questioned, taking a few steps to stand beside him.

"Join me. Other than Lily you're the only person I can stand talking to."

When you said this he looked at you in a way you had never seen before. Admittedly, you understood his reaction to some extent. someone you hadn't spoken to in ages suddenly asks you to join them on a walk? very strange.

"I mean if you want to join me.. Id understand if you don't."

"N-no id like that" he quickly interjected. "I would like that."

The two of you started walking, side by side and for the first time in ages you talked. And it felt like nothing had changed between you.

"So... how has school been treating you?"

"Its been the same as every other year, I'm afraid. Very... unfulfilling. What about you?"

You sighed and fiddled with your shirt. "It's been stressful, to say the least, Severus. I'm majorly failing potions and my... friends are jerks."

"But you're friends with Lily and shes good at potions, why don't you ask her to help?"

"Are you kidding me? She's too busy hanging out with James." you chuffed. "And besides I've already asked her."

Another look crossed his face. This time you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before he spoke up again.

"Well... I can tutor you... if you wish."

Of all of the things you expected him to say you never expected that. He wanted to help you?  "Really Severus? Id hate to impose."

"I wouldn't have offered if you were imposing."

A small smile crept onto your face. "Thank you Severus, but are you sure you want to be stuck with me for an hour?"

He gave an amused chuff and answered " I'm sure I will survive."

"Alright well I'm free all day on Sundays so.... does 1 pm work for you?"

"It does indeed, in the library and bring a notebook"

Before you could answer your name rang through the air. It was Lily, James, Peter, Sirius and Remus making their way down the hill.

Almost eminently you saw Severus demeanour change. He became fidgety and his head slowly curled itself to look at the mud path below his feet.

"Listen, Severus, I um... I have to walk with them now so I'll see you tomorrow yea?" you said nudging him and trying yo look him in the eye. when his gaze met yours you offered the tallboy a smile.

"Yes. tomorrow" he said before quickly scampering off down the road.

The group eventually caught up with you and Sirius threw his arm around your shoulders. " Hey, what you talking to Snivellus Snape for?"

Your eyebrows knotted in confusion as you pushed his arm off of you and looked at him. "What did you just say?" You genuinely didn't hear what he said but given his response, it clearly wasn't something good.

The smile on his face then morphed onto fear at the realisation of what he has just said. His eyes scanned his friends faces and they were just as scared for him.

"Severus, Severus Snape. that's what I said" he chuckled. The rest of your friends chuckled with him. You weren't convinced that's what he said but you went along with it since you were in an awkward situation.

"RIGHT LADS, WHO WANTS SOME BUTTERBEER!" shouted Remus pointing his wand towards the Hogsmead.

Everyone cheered and continued walking down the dirt path while you lagged behind, pulling Lily to walk with you.

Time skip to a few months later

As agreed, you and Severus would meet up in the library every Sunday for tutoring and during that time you learnt so much. Not just about potions but about Severus too. This clearly was something he enjoyed doing and he was eager to do.  You also learnt a lot about yourself during this time.

Turns out you had quite a knack for potions when you had the right teacher and your grades slowly got better too.

Unfortunately that wasn't the only thing you learnt during this time. You found out that Sirius had a crush on you. He of course had yet to tell you this news himself. Peter let it slip in one of your charms class and you were shocked.

Then, on top of that, unbeknownst to you, Lily had told the boys what you were doing on Sunday afternoons and Sirius was pissed, to say the least.

This particular Sunday, Severus had asked you to meet him next to the tree across the Black Lake.  He heard it was going to be nice out and since it was just going to be a reading session you thought why not.

On your journey there, you heard yelling and cheering near your destination. As you got closer you began to recognise some voices and when you heard Severus yelling you sprinted towards the tree.

When you exited the shrubbery you saw Sirius and the boys laughing at something above them. It was Severus. Sirius had cast a spell that pulled Severus feet first into the air. Hanging him upside-down.

You felt your blood boil in your veins. You didn't know this was going on or for how long but it stopped right then and there. Within seconds you grabbed your wand and shouted at the top of your lungs "EXPELLIARMUS!".

The amount of fear that glazed everyone's eyes in that seconds, was nothing more than horrifying. None of them expected you to be there (over an hour early) and they definitely didn't expect you to have this much anger pumping through you as you did in that moment.

The spell practically forced Siriuses wand out of his hand making Severus slowly land on the ground.  

You walked right up to Sirius, who was quivering in his boots, and pointed your wand right at his face.

" YOU! You slimy, egotistical, peace of shit!"

"N-Now (Y/N)" He stuttered, holding his hands up in surrender.

"SHUT UP! now you will answer my questions with 100% honesty or I will destroy that pretty face of yours. Understand?"

He nodded his head vigorously.

You didn't need to worry about the others shooting you with their wands because they were just as scared as their precious "Pad Foot".

"Why are you doing this Sirius and for how long?" you seethed.

" B-because I'm in love with you..." He said looking at you with hopeful eyes " and so is Severus. I did it because I was Jesus."

You pushed your wand under his chin " I know the first bit but how long, Pad Foot?"

He went silent and lowered his gaze. "Since our first year"

You sighed and looked at the rest of the group. Your anger was slowly going away.

" You knew about this?" You asked. However, when you didn't get a response your anger quickly returned.

"DID YOU KNOW!"

Simultaneously they all nodded their heads. Your friends.. they were your friends and they purposefully hurt someone so that you would go out with one of them. It made you sick!

You raised your wand and pointed at all of them.

" Don't ever talk to me again or else the next time I see your names on the murders map will be in the dark forest. 6 FEET UNDER THE WHOMPING WILLOW! UNDERSTAND?" you yelled, tears at the corner of your eyes.

Sirius was upset, he took a few steps closer to you. " (Y/N), please"

"WHAT did I just... say?"

As he took another step towards you, you shot a bolt of electricity at his feet. "get out of my sight, all of you."

Within seconds they ran away with their tails between their legs.

Throughout this exchange, Severus was stood right next to the tree. He heard every word that left your lips and felt the emotion on every letter but at the same time, he felt fear. He felt the fear that was radiating off of the murders and he felt a fear he thought he would have gotten used to buy now. The fear of being rejected by the one person he loved more than anyone else. After Sirius had exposed his feelings to you.. that fear almost consumed him. When he saw you fall to your knees and drop your wand on the grass, However, he put the fear aside and went to comfort you.

Your face was already stained with tears. The pain you felt was excruciating and your hands were shaking from the amount of adrenalin. But... despite all of that when you saw Severus face come into view you smiled at him.

" You" you said breathlessly in a calm voice.

He knelt down to your level, with a clenched jaw, worry written all over his face.

With the smile still on your face you looked at him and said "You, Severus Snape are lucky that I love you too"

 Please feel free to drop your ideas in the comments or private messing me. Love ya!!

[spencerhotchner]

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 2

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk) 

word count: 2.1k

a/n: ok, i am really excited about this series. and really thankful that y'all are liking it. also, i hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as y'all did the last one! it didn't end up as long as i wanted it it but ig its ok right.

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You could hear some familiar voices on the background as you began to regain conciseness, voices you could identify anywhere. You kept your eye shut for a while, feeling the tiredness and dizziness your body was screaming at you despite the fact that you have been unconscious, and on the floor apparently. Even though you're head was still too slow to think straight, you noticed that your face mask wasn't on you anymore. 

“Who is she?” you heard the familiar voice of Shamar, or Morgan, given the circumstances. 

“Apparently she knows me.” that was Spencer’s turn to speak. 

“I met her this morning.” JJ states, you could only imagine the faces they would be making at her, wondering how and why. “I bumped into her walking on the street, she seemed pretty confused but yet she still knew who I was.” 

“Well, that’s weird.” Emily said.

When you finally decided to open them, you felt like you were still dream. Once again you found yourself asking what was going on. Why was the whole cast of Criminal Minds standing there simple staring at you and why were they acting like their characters? Out of the two explanations that came to your mind at the moment, only one made any sense. I was a tv prank, it could only be. There would be no other logical reason to it, other wise. 

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks, offering a hand. 

You stared at him trying to figure out what to say, but without saying a word you took his hands and got up. The whole team was looking at you, with weird expressions. You felt almost like you were an unsub, you hated being stared. 

“Yes, I mean, no!” you say. “Is this a prank of something? Because, damn, you guys went too far down with it. Fuck!” you say, finally snapping. 

“I’m afraid I don't know what you are talking about.” Rossi said. 

You tried not to but as soon as you realized you already had a big sarcastic expression on your face. How wouldn't they? They were tv stars and they were clearly acting, you've seen it. 

“Oh, you're not?” you said, as sarcastic as you could be. “Ok, let me enlighten you all, since you ‘don’t know what i’m talking about?’. I woke up in this freaking random apartment by myself wearing the exact same thing I was wearing the night before.” 

“...and where is the part we fit in there?” he replies. 

You ignored him, sighing and trying to push your anxiety down. 

“As I was saying, I was wearing the exact same thing and I was in Bellevue, in Washington state. I have no idea who decided to pull this off but as much as I love the show, I am not enjoying this.” you say, looking around trying to find cameras. 

They all kept staring at you, Rossi was the only one who didn't seem worried about, it was like he thought you were on drugs or just delusional. You were even starting to believe in that. JJ and Spencer kept staring at each other, possibly trying to figure out what was going on, and how you knew them. 

“You believe you were abducted, then?” Hotch finally says something. 

You sigh again, trying to be patience. All you wanted was to go home, when you said you wanted to meet the cast - all the hundreds of times you said it, you didn’t mean this. You closed your eyes, because suddenly all you wanted to do was cry. You couldn't count how many times you imagined this happening and it was being just awful. You hated being confused, lost and being pictured as crazy. 

“No, Agent Hotchner” you spilled his name, sarcastically. “I am sure.”

He looked at you without much expression - as usual, but you could tell he was superseded you knew him, just as much as the team. Morgan step forward, walking towards you. You stared at him, trying to remain calm. 

“Listen, we can't help you if you don't let us.” he said. “Can you tell us your name?”

God, don't they realize this is funny? I do not wanna be acting, some pictures would do the job just as fine. 

“Y/N Y/L/N” you say as you watch Rossi give Garcia a look making her nod and direct herself to her ‘cave’, certainly to search you up. 

“Alright, you have someone we can contact with?” JJ asks. 

You nodded, yes you did. But they wouldn't pick up the phone, as you tried multiple times this morning on the old cellphone. What if something happened to them? This was all so confusing. 

“But she won’t pick up the phone, I tried.” you said.

Once again, you caught yourself wondering what was going on. And that was the moment you kind of got what was happening. Would it be possible that you shifted to this universe? Maybe this wasn't all a prank and your wish had just became true. You probably should've thought about it before asking for it. At once it hit you, what you said to your friend just last night. 

“What is something you would want to do right now?” your best friend asked you, leaning a bit towards you, laughing drunkly.

“Um, I’d really like to be in Criminal Minds right now.” you say laughing as you best friend rolled her eyes. “No, listen! I’d love to meet Spencer Reid and I don't know, it just sounds better than quarantine.”

“Yeah, sure, because serial killers are just not bad at all, huh?” she laughed. 

Maybe this was true, maybe you did shifted. And if you did, you sure sounded like a crazy person, and probably a stalker. You looked around trying to figure out if you could sit somewhere, it all became took much for you mind at that moment. 

“Can I sit... Can I sit somewhere?” you asked, probably looking as ill as you sounded.

You watched as Reid rushed to bring the chair. You set down trying to figure out how you'd leave there, and how you'd shift back. Staring at them you felt your heart warm a little, you dreamed about this for so long - as it was all it was, a dream, until now, at least. 

Before you could say a word you watched Penelope come back and whisper in Rossi’s ear, probably what she found out about you. Which, maybe was everything, since you had no reasons to hide a thing about your life, which was quite boring, in fact. 

“Who are you?” Rossi says, like he’s ready to arrest you.

“I-I already told you.” you answer. “I’m Y/N.”

If you needed any proof about what was going on that was it. It was like you did not even exist, like you weren't real. She probably didn’t find anything because you’re not from this universe.

“Alright. What can we do for you, Y/N?” Morgan asks.

“I need to go home.” you let it out. “I don't know how I ended up here in Quantico.”

Garcia stares ate you, almost like she felt pity about your situation while the rest of them kept a suspicious look at you. It’s not like you blame them, anyways, you would think it’s weird for somebody to come out of nowhere knowing your name and claiming to be pranked. 

While you were sitting there, with all those eyes at you, you thought that maybe giving up and trying to figure it all out by yourself maybe would be better. How would they help you, anyways? It is not like they could send you back. And it is also not like you didn't actually wish for this. 

There are some wishes that are entirely rhetorical. 

“You know what? I’m good.” you fake a smile, obviously. “I’m just gonna go.” 

You stoop up fast, not giving them much time to contest you. Spencer looked confused, more than any of the others, for some reason. Maybe he was just curious on how you knew him, or JJ. Either way, you wouldn't know. 

Hotch looked at you, wondering your action. Why were you so desperate at one time and tried to pull off as if it was ok? It was definitely not ok. Your smile looked fake, your body seemed tense and your eyes looked as lost as he could think someone could be, as he has seen a lot of lost eyes. 

“Thank you, for your attention, though.” you say. “I’m sorry for taking your time agents.” 

You stormed out of there, not even realizing that you left your jacket in there. How could you? Not when you ran out of there as if your live depended on it. You let a sigh out as you got out of the building, not even noticing when the tears started to come down at your cheeks. 

At that moment you didn't care at all about where you were, you set on the floor, letting the tears roll down and the sobs come out. You never wished to be away from your reality, it only seemed nice in your dreams. Right now, all you wanted was to go home and hug your parents, or even just see them. You felt lost, as lost as a five year old who can't find his mommy at the park. 

You got scared as you felt a big hand touch your shoulders. As your turn, to see who was it, Spencer looked as nice as you could ever picture him to, or see on the screens. His face resembles worry, like he was actually wondering what happened to you and why where you there. 

“I believe this is yours.” he hands you your jacket. 

You stare at him before.

“Yes, thank you.” you wipe the tears away. 

“No- No problem.” he said, sitting by your side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” you answered looking away. 

“You don't have to lie to me.” he said, as you looked back at him. “I wanna help you, but I can only do that if you cooperate with me.”

Why would he?

“I don't know where I am. I mean, I do know but I don't know how I ended up here. I understand what is going on, I did after a while but I don't know how to change this situation. I don't know how to go back home.” you said. 

Not like he’ll understand, anyways.

"Maybe... Maybe me and my team could help you figure it out?” he tries. 

“I doubt it.” you shake your shoulders. “I know that you guys are awesome at your job, don't get me wrong, to be honest I’m quite the big fan.” you laughed a bit. “But it’s just out of hand.” 

He stops, looking at you. Gave up offering help, you were not accepting he felt it. No, he knew it. It was his job to know what body language was telling him, anyways. He didn't want to stare at you, but he felt like he needed to. He was stuck at your looks, so pretty, yet so lost. 

“If we can't help you, is there anything I can do for you?” he asks. 

You looked right into his eyes. Thinking, if you should say it. Maybe so, it wouldn't kill you, it was not like it was the real world of something, well maybe it was but you couldn't care less. All you wanted was somewhere to stay this night and figure out how to get back.

“I do need a place to stay tonight.” you say, smiling little at him. 

He had a weird look on his face when you said that, like he wasn't expecting it. Because he wasn't. That moment he considered himself a crazy man, because he knew the risks and yet was up for it.

“Uh, ok.” 

Taglist: @feverdreamreid @andromedasstarship @paulaern @theetherealbloom @thatsonezesty13 @reidsalvez​ @pieceofreid @nymeria-targaryen​ @greeny-kitten​ @peppermintnight @notebookgirl30​ @2sarvinem @holding-on-to-my-youth​ @mggsprettygirl​ @iifloweringnightsii​ @iidontgiveafuckuniverse​ @mcntsee​

[kyoomiii]

♡ Sick days [hcs]

- ✎ characters ❝ kageyama, ushijima, kenma and tsukishima ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): none other than maybe one curse word ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff ❞

❝ in light of the current situation i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. we can get through these tough times together. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ❞

-kyo  ♡

Kageyama knows something is wrong the moment he wakes up that morning, the irritating tickle in the back of his throat and the sudden heat that engulfs his body confirms his suspicions, but even so he refuses to let it bother him, pushing even the thought of being sick to the back of his mind as he departs for school.

Though unfortunately, the day passes agonizingly slow for him, and by the time it finally ends he had managed to fall asleep in almost every single one of his classes prompting multiple scoldings from varying teachers which only heightened his pounding headache. 

Even so, he brushes it off with mild annoyance as he changes out of his school uniform and into his practice attire, a small pit of dread forming in his already aching stomach knowing you’d be there waiting for him, and that you’d definitely notice his odd behavior.

As he enters the gym, the familiar squeaking of shoes almost sets his mind at ease, a trickle of relief flowing through him as he basks in the success of hiding his condition and that surprisingly, you were nowhere to be found. However, the moment is short-lived once he spots Hinata, who squints in his direction as if he had grown three heads.

“What are you staring at boke.”

“Nothing… I guess you just seem a bit- weird today.”

“It’s fine- I’m fine! Let’s just practice already!”

But throughout the entire practice, his vision only seems to get hazier, and his head only seems to hurt more as his tosses become less and less consistent, resulting in snickers from Tsukishima, and more shouts from Hinata, until eventually he just collapses in a pile of sweat, an overwhelming ache shooting throughout his bones,  and at this point he no longer cares about the current activity, all he wants is you.

“Crap- Kageyama! Someone get y/n”

And much to his relief, you come in rushing soon after his collapse, Sugawara having moved him into a slightly more comfortable position prior to your arrival.

“y/n…”

“I’m here Tobio… You’re gonna be alright, your sister is here to take you home.”

It was almost scary how lifeless he seemed. Slumped in between Sugawara and Daichi, barely conscious as you run your fingers through his damp hair. The club is visibly startled as it takes a total of all the third years and Tanaka to haul the setter into his sister’s car as a result of his protest.

“No... Want y/n…”

The little whine that leaves him has you flushed, cheeks burning red as you simply nod, scooting into the backseat with him as he deliriously snuggles close to you, a violent shiver running throughout his body despite his unbelievably hot temperature.

The ride back to Kageyama’s house is relatively silent with the exception of the occasional groan or whimper from him. A wave of worry floods through you as you help his sister move him into his bed.

“I’m really sorry y/n, I have to get back to the shop, so can you please do me a favor and watch Tobio for a few hours?”

“I-Uh- Yeah.”

And like that it’s just you and Kageyama, who looks just as bad, if not worse than before the car ride. He’s shivering like a leaf as he curls closely into the blankets, face contorted into displeasure.

“Tobio…”

With a gentle caress to his sickly pale skin, you stand up to leave, a feeling of guilt swelling in your heart at the thought of leaving Kageyama alone, even if it were just a little bit of time as you quickly return with a damp towel to press to his drenched forehead.

He looks almost too peaceful as he relaxes into your touch, the cloth that’s pressed against his skin easing his discomfort all the more. His eyes flutter open, squinting to look up at you.

“I’m okay y/n.. I’m not sick.”

You’re almost in disbelief, and you would smack him for being so reckless if he weren’t so ill.

“You are. Why would you lie about that?（￣□￣；)”

But the gentle grin that stretches across his face disposes of any harsh feelings you may have for his lack of thought in regards to consequences.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n…”

“Of course Tobio… Now get some rest… Boke.”

It had hit him like a brick. One moment he was fine, sitting in the corner of the gym before practice began, game in hand as some of the members shuffled about setting up the net, and the next he’s suddenly feeling a sort of dizziness in the back of his head.

It was all too familiar, the dizziness followed by an instant ache in his body as he slumps against the wall, eyes darting across the gym in fear of being noticed.

His game is slowly forgotten, as he dies repeatedly, unable to truly concentrate on the task at hand, due to the level of discomfort brought by the heat of his hoodie, but the almost painfully aching shivers that plague his small form convince him to keep it on.

He wishes you were here as he begrudgingly stuffs his game back into his backpack, unable to continue staring at the pixelated screen that has slowly but surely made him more dizzy than he was feeling moments ago. However, the thought of bothering you sets a pit of guilt at the bottom of his stomach, so he stays silent, suffering quietly as the other boys draw closer to finishing setting up. 

In less than three minutes, Kenma manages to fall asleep, legs hugged closely to his chest as he tries to make himself as small as possible in the confinements of his clothing. The gentle tap against his shoulder wakes him up. Kuroo looking over him worriedly, his usual smirk replaced with a frown.

“I’m calling y/n-”

“Please don’t…”

“Not an option.”

Kenma doesn’t have the energy to protest, his already low levels dropping even lower as he drifts between being conscious and unconscious. 

He doesn’t even realize you’re there until the familiar comfort of your touch lingers on his burning hot skin. The warmth makes you recoil in shock, much to his noticeable dismay. He looks so small and vulnerable as Kuroo helps you haul him home.

“Please take care of him y/n…”

And upon Kuroo’s departure back to school to finish the remaining practice, it’s just you and Kenma, who in this current moment has decided to burrito himself in his covers, the little lump that he’s created shivering harshly.

The sight makes you frown as you gently run your fingers over the fabric that he is using to shield himself. You had heard that Kenma would often get fevers after exerting himself when he was young, but everyone, including him had thought he had grown out of that phase. With a sigh, you stand from your spot at the edge of his bed, sending one last glance back before making your way to the kitchen to prepare something that would be easy to eat in his condition. 

As you stir the pot of rice porridge which seemed to be the easiest and quickest option, a small thump resonates throughout the relatively quiet house. A surge of worry filled you as you hurriedly set the stove to low, rushing to see what had caused the commotion. 

To your surprise Kenma lays in the middle of the hallway, his blankets still wrapped snugly around him as he wiggles his way into the living room. The image would be cute if said boy wasn’t currently suffering from a fever.

“Kenma? What are you doing out of bed?”

His response is so quiet, so delicate as you help him onto the couch.

“Missed you...:”

A soft smile graces your lips as you place a chaste kiss to his burning forehead. 

“I missed you too. Let’s get some food and medicine in you and we can go to sleep yeah?”

“...Okay…”

The lull of silence passes between the two of you as you return to the pot in the kitchen, you were sure that Kenma had fallen back asleep…

“I love you y/n…”

“I love you too Kenma”

Morning practice was something that Ushijima never missed out on. He was always there bright and early, dressed and ready before anyone else, including Tendou, who despite sharing the same dorm with, refused to get up at the butt-crack of dawn like his odd roommate. So when the rest of the team gathers, with Ushijima nowhere in sight, there’s a certain uneasiness that settles amongst the Shiratorizawa volleyball club.

“Where’s Ushijima-san… He’s never this late.”

“No idea-”

“Don’t you share a room with him Tendou-san…?”

“...Who told you that? ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)”

“You did? (´_ ` ﾒ)”

Your mind zones out of the conversation, stuck on a certain ace who was more dedicated to this sport than anyone you had ever met, something you had learned to love about him. The fact that he wouldn’t show up like this was just-strange…

“You guys get started, i’ll go find him.”

“Okay here’s a key~ But if anything-”

“Tendou Satori!”

And with your cheeks flushed red, prominent glare on your face you head off to the boy’s dormitory, ignoring the glances of curiosity as you practically stomp your way through the halls.

Softly you knock on Tendou and Ushijima’s dorm room, only to receive silence. There’s a slight hesitancy to your actions as you slowly unlock the door.

“Toshi?”

You call once more only to be met with the soft breathing of an unconscious Ushijima. The sight is something that is truly a shock, Ushijima Wakatoshi NEVER missed practice because he slept in.

There’s a feeling of worry that settles in your chest as you approach him. Kneeling down you run a hand through his dark brown hair, the heat radiating from his skin causing a frown to form on your features. Gently, you shake his shoulder, calling his name once more.

“Wakatoshi?”

And like sleeping beauty, his eyes flutter open revealing deep pools of dark olive. His mind is a haze, eyes bleary as he looks up at you, and it’s then you notice the gentle flush of pink that tints the tip of his nose and both his cheeks.

“y/n…?”

His voice is hoarse, throat scratched dry, most likely from a coughing fit as he gazes at you confused.

Your frown deepens as he attempts to sit up, visibly wincing before he eventually gives up, body going limp as he lands back on the mattress with a slight huff. 

“It’s okay Toshi, just relax today, I’ll take care of you.”

To anyone else Ushijima remains stoic, however, knowing him as well as you do, you catch the slight upturn of his lips, and the small shift of emotion in his eyes as you press a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sigh leaves you as his eyes flutter shut once more, your lips purse as you call the main office notifying them of Ushijima and your absence, followed by calling Tendou who doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but nevertheless delivers the message to the rest of the team, and lastly a call to a restaurant for some soup that would be easy on his stomach.

As soon as you finish all your calls, your attention is turned back to Ushijima. His face is scrunched in slight discomfort as he grips tightly at the blanket covering his body, and it’s then you catch the slight shiver the ripples through him.

Ushijima is a man of muscle, his body runs warm like a furnace, but in this moment he can’t help but feel unbelievably cold, despite the burning heat of his skin. So silently, as you take off your blazer and bow tie, folding it neatly and placing it on his desk, you crawl into his bed beside him, holding him close.

He stops shivering, cuddling closely to your body.

“...S’warm...”

“Don’t worry- I’m here.”

And you swear you could see the faintest smile ghost his lips as he settles in to your touch, basking in the much needed heat.

“Thank you y/n...”

Tsukishima could feel the oncoming sickness brewing in his system a day before it decided to smack him in the face. He’s not exactly surprised either, there’s always been this schedule since he was young which consisted of him being perfectly fine and healthy most of the year, and then dying for about a week somewhere in the winter months.

And after years of experiencing the same cycle, he’s become somewhat prepared to deal with whatever may come. Unfortunately though, he was not prepared when the flu decided to make its appearance as soon as his parents and Akiteru were out of town, leaving him to suffer alone.

With that being said, he wakes up one morning, feeling like absolute crap. His throat feels raw and scratchy, his body aches so badly that it just hurts to move, and his head is pounding so hard that he’s sure his brain has become mush.

He barely finds the strength to text you and Yamaguchi that he doesn’t feel very good, and then to his parents who unfortunately won't be back for a little while longer..

Immediately, the text has you worrying, Tsukishima NEVER missed school, and the fact that he decided to skip today meant that he was most likely really sick, and to top it off he was alone, with no one to check up on him, the thought alone put you in a state of mild anxiety.

As a result you spend most of the day with your thoughts scrambled, unable to focus as your mind constantly drifts back to Tsukishima, who has not texted you since that morning. 

You’re so anxious to see him that as soon as the last bell rings you practically rush to his house, using the spare key he had lent you in case of an emergency. 

Your steps are hurried as you enter the house, placing all of your stuff off to the side, then quietly making your way to Tsukishima’s room only to find him knocked out cold, sprawled on his bed cuddling close to a dinosaur comforter (something his mom got him when he was five, but doesn’t use unless he’s in need of real comfort).

The sight makes you smile softly as you set foot into the room, padding softly across the floor as to not wake him. His blonde hair is tousled and messy, some strands sticking to his sweat drenched forehead. Strewn across his bed is an assortment of empty water bottles, and beside his bed sits an empty teacup. 

It’s then the realization strikes you that he probably hasn’t had anything to eat since the day before, the thought making you frown as you brush the stray hairs from his forehead, a kiss being placed against the burning skin instead. 

Upon making your way into the kitchen, you begin to make a simple soup, something that would be easy on his stomach, but would still taste okay to eat. You don’t even notice Tsukishima opening the door to his room waddling out, bundled in his dinosaur comforter until a small thump can be heard from the couch. 

Once you finish the soup, you scoop up a small bowl before walking over to Tsukishima who lays on the couch staring blankly at the wall, he can’t seem to find the energy to make an snide comments, rather he’s just kind of grumpy and quiet mentally cursing life.

“Kei, I made you soup.”

“M’ don’t wanna eat… I’m too tired.”

“If you don’t eat you’re not going to get any better…”

He groans as you help him sit up, making sure to keep the blanket around him so he’d be at least a little more comfortable. When you get him settled you place the bowl in his hands, watching as his eyes squint at it.

“Something wrong?”

“...”

“Oh my god Kei, stop acting like a baby I didn’t poison it.  (；¬＿¬)”

“I don’t know that. ρ(￣ﾍ￣ ﾒ)”

It takes a minute for him to finish, but once he does he’s immediately curled up on the couch behind you, back facing you as you opt to begin today’s homework.

The room falls quiet for a moment, until the sound of shuffling fills the air, next thing you know Tsukishim has joined you on the floor, slithering his way into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs.

“Wow, who knew you could be so soft Kei.”

“- Shut up.................... Thank you for- everything. ( ˵¯͒＿¯͒˵)”

[surveillance-0011]

TBOI Headcanons: Horsemen

Death

He/him

He’s...nice. Not a good person by any means but he’s the most polite of the bunch. Kind of strange though. Creepily calm, a bit sarcastic, and he has a pretty morbid view on the world.

Reserved and usually grumpy. He can be rather chipper off-duty, though. Putting up with the others takes a lot of energy from him.

Tired....

A bit neurotic but good at coming off as a down-to-earth guy.

He’s the most book-smart of the bunch and he’s fairly wise. A bit emotionally stunted, but he tries his best to be mature and make the right choices.

Death is more than a bit nihilistic and pessimistic. He has a hard time just... caring, mostly about himself.

Not to say he’s completely apathetic, he can be pretty empathetic but he tries not to act on that too much because if he did his job would have broken him by now.

He likes to think he’s got it all under control, but he does not. He’s more prone to pettiness and stupid decisions than he’d like to admit.

That being said he’s been pretty good with like. Growing and maturing though. He’s changed more than he realizes in just in the past.... decade or so ago. A bit of a late start for an immortal but hey at least he’s slightly less of a scumbag.

It’s usually not easy to anger him unless he’s really tired or something’s already set him off. When something does piss him off badly he’s a bit prone to freaking out. He’s not very good at handling his emotions. 

Sees his own job as a necessary evil, because hey, someone’s gotta do it.

Interested in botany/gardening, as well as literature.

Genuinely nice- or at least polite- to the kids when he’s not supposed to be murdering them. He sees no reason to go out of his way to do so, especially since unwarranted cruelty towards others has only bit him in the ass.

Famine’s older brother. The two have always had each other’s backs.

Diligent, and always considers the logistics to things instead of acting on emotion alone.

Protective of the other horsemen.

Pretty short tbh

His horse’s name is Chili.

Famine

She/he (bigender). You can use both interchangeably or only use one set, she doesn’t care. Fine with they/them too but it’s never really clicked w/ him enough to be preferred.

Usually prefers more masculine terms (brother, sir, mr...) but fine with anything.

.Flips between bouncing off the walls and having no energy whatsoever.

Impulsive, she’s got terrible judgement and has the most idiotic of ideas sometimes.

Fairly easygoing, tries to forgive and forget and doesn’t let little transgressions get to her

Actually pretty damn sad. Needs some self care but never looks after herself.

I mean she’s optimistic and usually happy but like. There’s always just a bit of sadness, you know? He’s dealt with a lot and it’s definitely taken its toll on him.

Disaster Lesbian

Tries to be a graceful loser but she can get a bit more competitive than she’d like to admit.

Has a hard time relating to others and considering how they feel, at least when it comes to anything more complex than “bad thing happened now I’m sad/mad” He’s a drifter by nature, always onto the next big thing for a quick thrill.

Eats a lot. It’s never enough.

Plants and a good deal of food will decay if she touches them, or even gets too close to them.

Like his brother he has some interest in nature. Famine is more on the adventurous side, though. She’s tried to live off the land a few times with varying success.

Named her horse Frisk

Pestilence

He/him

Calm, quiet, but also a pessimistic jackass.

Always in a bad mood. I mean, he’s permanently sick with just about everything contagious and deadly. You’d be grumpy, too!

Surprisingly high pain tolerance. A good deal of his nerves have probably just.. shut down or something. Or maybe he’s just numb to everything after a lifetime of pain.

Sleeps a lot

Dislikes his situation a lot, but doesn’t mind the company of the others.

Lazarus is terrified of this dude. The other kids are mostly grossed out or annoyed by him.

Likes to be alone.

Fairly smart, but comes off as absent minded bc he’s pretty much too sick to function. He slips up a lot and he’s pretty damn clumsy

Probably the most rational of the bunch, when he’s not in airplane mode. 

He’s also got a fairly strong moral compass. He doesn’t really like fighting the kids unlike War and Famine. Or just having to go up against people in general. Hell he hates the fact people get sick because of him. At the very least Pest has higher standards and is fairly transparent

But that isn’t to say he’s a good person. Yeah he doesn’t go out of his way to hurt others for shits and giggles and He’s Not Conquest but he doesn’t ever object to any of the shit the kids are put through and well. Yknow he still does kill them. He will also encourage some of War’s antics when it’s against someone he dislikes.

Tries to be as supportive as he can for the others. He knows he can’t do too much without overexerting so he tries to be encouraging and comforting as he can.

This compassion usually isn’t extended to humans, though.

Not very emotive, the only emotions he ever really expresses would be disdain and mild concern.

Not very fond of Conquest but they don’t hate each other. They actually work together well, too.

Friends with Mahalath. They’re pretty close!

His horse’s name is Moses.

War

He/it

He’s not very friendly, he’s pretty defensive and always on edge.

Out of all the horsemen, he’s probably the one closest with the Beast.

Lots of scars n injuries, it’s practically stitched together

One gold tooth

Impulsive, prefers solving issues through violence than through reason.

He can be fairly clever, though.

Intentionally angers/upsets others, likes causing problems and ruining things for people.

Desires wealth and power

Gets burnt out pretty quickly.

Emotional, insecure, and sensitive, and he hates this part of him. Definitely overcompensates for it.

Explosive temper, quite literally. Catches fire when upset and explodes if it’s more intense. Damage done to him also makes it happen. It’s not entirely voluntary but can be held off, and his “sobbing” sprite is him doing exactly that (but he’s probably also trying not to cry lmao). In the Ultra War fight, however...

Its daily routine leaves a lot to be desired. It wakes up, goes to work, then it goes home and just. Sits and rots.

Also, his diet is god awful. Please just eat a fruit or vegetable for once maybe you’d feel better goddamn.

He cannot remember if his horse is actually a horse or not but uhh he named her Bellum.

Conquest

He/they.

High and mighty sort of attitude. Can be very selfish. Stubborn, set in his ways. Gets defensive if you call him out or tell him he’s wrong.

Gay + nonbinary but in the closet (and denial) about both of those things. They’re trying to unlearn years’ worth of internalized bigotry.

Used to be worse, now trying to unlearn his toxic behaviors. But he’s still awful.

Doesn’t remember anything before their death. However they’ve held very strong Christian (specifically Catholic) beliefs all their life and they have a pretty black and white way of thinking.

Very cold and clinical. He has a bit of a temper but there’s a sort of calmness to everything he does even when he’s pissed.

Just as argumentative and aggressive as War but like more of a threat.

The others call him Connie sometimes, especially Death, who practically almost always calls him by this nickname.

Doesn’t harbor ill will towards Pestilence. They might have been overshadowed, but it’s not Pestilence’s own fault. If anything, being out of the spotlight has been good for Conquest, even if they do miss the attention sometimes. The only reason the two dislike each other is because their personalities clash.

Now if there’s anyone he hates that would be the Headless Horseman. Fuck that guy amiright

Very protective of Death. The two are close, Death is probably the only person who is consistently nice to him.

Utterly terrified of needles (hypodermic, not sewing needles, though he’s not good with sharp objects tbh) and medical stuff makes him anxious

Seems very... off. Just weird vibes but no one can pin point what about him is wrong.

Oh uh and his horse’s name is Josephine.