#and she is willing to give you a chance probably

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I finally managed to finish this chapter without hating it!!! If you notice any errors please let me know, I know very little English and so I end up translating everything using an online translator, and you know sometimes there are errors...

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word counts: 1.435

The job was simple: break into the house of one of Markrov's henchmen, get any clues about their connection, and hopefully more clues about the human trafficking that had been going on for months. However, the job proved complicated when he had to deal not only with the guards but also with a woman, well, he was told that the guy had a wife, but he didn't expect her to be in the house.

The job was supposed to be simple. So why instead of just two in the car were there now three?

He actually considered the idea of killing her, leaving her in the house and making it look like some kind of ridiculous accident, just to confuse them and give them more time to act. But he felt sorry, Simon never liked killing women, he didn't even know if you were lying to them or not, but Ghost never minded killing women, not if they were involved in anything illegal.

You could well be in on it with your husband, and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Deep down your instincts tell you that you're just an ignorant woman who doesn't even know about her own husband, which would explain some of your behavior, but Ghost doesn't usually give people the benefit of the doubt, he's more of a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy.

So why is he taking you along? The only answer Ghost has come up with at the moment is that you could be of great help, a decoy perhaps. If this were a kidnapping, he could even use you as a bargaining chip, to find out how much the husband would be willing to pay to get his beautiful trophy wife back, but everyone knows that her husband wouldn't pay a penny to get you back.

As soon as they arrived at the safe house the first thing they did was tie you properly to a chair, they knew you wouldn't be able to escape even if they let you loose, not with two trained men of their size, but it was good to be safe. Ghost barely looked at you, he prefers not to memorize too many faces of people who will probably end up dead, he already has enough people to haunt his dreams, he doesn't need one more.

As soon as Ghost removed the tape from his mouth, he was ready to leave, anything not to be in the same room as you. He wasn't too surprised when you didn't scream, I mean, he realized you were a clever little thing the moment you decided to collaborate with him, maybe deep down he expected you to scream and shout at the top of your lungs even though you saw you were in the middle of nowhere and knew it wouldn't do any good, he kind of expected any reaction from you, just so he could be rude without feeling so guilty. He doesn't even know whether or not you were involved and aware of what your husband was doing.

“I thought she'd have some resistance, you know screaming and all.” Soap seemed excited by the discovery, a little too excited, but Ghost had learned to ignore strange comments and actions during his time in the army, after all, none of them had a good sanity, not even him.

“I think she understood that no one will come even if she screams.” Ghost just turned and left the room, heading for the room he would be staying in, he would leave you for Soap to deal with, meanwhile he would find out more information in other ways.

Soap appeared at the door a few minutes later, saying that you had fainted, overwhelmed by everything, Ghost just nodded and told him to try again later.

And then Soap was in charge of trying to get more information out of you when you were awake. Ghost felt he'd already had too much interaction with you, and let's face it, Soap was great at getting people to open up, so he was an infinitely better chance. Even though he initially failed, Ghost still believed that Jonny could achieve something.

“Why can't we have a clean safe house for once in our lives?” Soap complains as he throws himself on the bed and dust rises, he coughs a few times trying to shake the dust away in a failed attempt.

“We're in a safe house, not a vacation home Jonny. At least this one has furniture.” Ghost's voice comes out sarcastic, he doesn't take his eyes off the computer, grumbling when something doesn't go as he expects.

“How long is this going to last?” Soap rambles to himself, not really caring whether Ghost listens or not.

“Preferably as little as possible.” He answers back and lets out a strange sound, a muffled, croaking laugh. “I found something you might want to read.” Ghost passes the computer to Soap, the small print on the screen showing something interesting.

The night was colder than he thought it would be, probably because winter was approaching. Ghost stood guard in the early hours of the night, Soap was passed out on the dusty bed in the bedroom, at least this safe house had some comfort, in the last few missions the safe houses had nothing more than just the bathroom sink and the shower, of course, only cold water.

He busied himself going over the information he had about the mission. It was routine, something he was used to and something he could relate to now, if he let his mind wander to any other thought than the mission he knew he would lose himself in a spiral and Ghost couldn't let that happen. Not while he still had a mission to finish, not while he was still on that mission.

He wouldn't give you anything more than a few glances, just to make sure you were still in your sleep/fainting state. It would be tedious for anyone else to sit up half the night watching someone else, without much to occupy themselves, but Ghost doesn't really care, too used to babysitting at night to care that much.

It's actually kind of pathetic now that he thinks about it, the fact that he's watching you. A weak, untrained woman, tied to a chair and passed out. You'd never get out of that house without one of the two of you noticing, Ghost could be mistaken about you, you could be a clever little mouse playing dumb, but he still doubts you'd be able to get rid of the ropes holding you down without making a sound.

He's only awake to keep people out of the house, that's the truth. You're no danger to him. Too fearful, not even able to take the pressure of a few questions and already fainting.

Ghost remembers somewhere in the back of his mind that you're just a civilian, and as far as he knows you have every right to cry and faint out of fear and exhaustion, he sometimes forgets that people aren't like him, that most people aren't in the army.

And in a corner of his mind comes the nagging voice reminding him that for all he knows you might actually be being held in private. But again, it's just an assumption, not confirmed information. He found almost nothing about you in the files, your name was mentioned once in a file, but it was so vague that it could easily have been forgotten.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the thought and snorts, he'd rather not think about it too much, if he knew that bastard was holding you against your will he certainly wouldn't spare his fingers when he finally managed to catch the lowlife. Ghost simply hates violence against innocent, unarmed women. He also hates the memories that come with that thought.

A heavy sigh leaves his lips, he would definitely kill for a cup of tea or an alcoholic drink right now, anything to slow down his mind and relax his tense body. But well, unfortunately there's nothing in this house apart from drinking water, and if they're lucky, some kind of canned food.

The sound is very low, but it's still noticeable if you're paying attention. Ghost looks away from the window and sees you looking around, your gaze unfocused and lost, surely it would take you a few seconds to fully regain consciousness.

That's when Ghost knows it's going to be a long night. Maybe he'll wake Soap up and let him deal with it.

[sealer-of-wenkamui]

Started OG tsukihime and my early thoughts so far are wow I love kara no kyoukai part 4- garan no dou, and also Hisui is the cutest girl, shut up shiki, emotionless girls are cute!! They’re cute!!!

[relicsongmel]

Just spent over an hour searching for the static Ho-oh in the overworld and suddenly Ryuji taking literal years to reunite with his family makes sense to me now

[silkentine]

All I could think while drawing Nami was, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” And, of course, with Robin I was thinking, “save a horse… 🥵”

Design Notes and other opining below the cut:

For Nami, I wanted to go for a mix of cocky Jersey mafia newbie and surfer boy. I like to think that some of the horrendous outfit choices that Sanji makes (especially in the movies) were actually picked out by Nami. She’s the shopper!!! But yeah, the vibrant swim trunks and graphic tees just scream Nami. I also wanted to put him in a wetsuit/rash guard because I think that’s a sexy look so sue me if you hate it. You cannot argue with me that Nami doesn’t wear swimsuits as clothes.

He’s toned but not as muscular as Robin or Luffy (for example) because he isn’t a front-line fighter, I want him to maintain the same kind of role that Nami has in the animanga. He’s the best navigator in the world!! I couldn’t decide if I wanted to change the violent tendencies that Nami has, but ultimately I think he’d still give the more deserving members of the crew a healthy wallop (although I might portray it more cartoonishly). Boy Piece!Nami still grew up under Arlong’s authority so he spent a lot of his childhood walking on eggshells to protect his village and his brother, Nojiko, so I think he never really got to learn “you’re not supposed to hit people just because they frustrate you” lesson. I gave him a shark-tooth necklace because surely Arlong had a few loose teeth to spare once Luffy took her down. Victory spoils LOL

If he can get the girls to stop wrestling and sit down quietly for a while, he likes to host card games (with betting, of course) or watch the clouds while sipping whatever fruity cocktail Sanji whips up. I believe that Canon!Nami is a total lesbian, and I can’t possibly envision a Nami who doesn’t like women so Boy Piece!Nami is bi. I am, of course, a Namivivi truther and Vivi is also a man in this AU. I don’t hate Sanami within this dynamic though… lots to think about.

Okay!!! All-shipper mindset aside, let’s talk Robin. I gave him long hair because 1) it’s hot and 2) I think it makes him look like Dragon. Yeahhh, I subscribe to the Luffy and Robin are half-siblings theory because I think it’s funny and makes some sense. Crocodile is 100% Luffy’s Mom in this AU and I think Robin knows it LOL

For his outfits, I wanted to lean a bit more Indiana Jones where I could; he’s still primarily cowboy inspired though. For the main look, I went with the Skypeia color palette hehe, I think Robin looks good in yellow. I did some flower-petal shaped color blocking on his chaps because I think it’s cute and subtle. I really love that the powers of the Hana-Hana-no-mi are like… unexpected for a “flower flower” fruit and I think Robin would be more aware that juxtaposition as a guy. You might also be wondering about the gloves and I initially just had it for his cowboy look but I decided to put them on all the outfits up until the events of Enies Lobby. Canon!Robin has a really difficult childhood and I think it’s exacerbated by the fact that she’s a girl on her own. If Robin was a boy, he’d probably have an easier time living on his own but would be a lot less emotionally open. All of these elements combine to make him want that physical barrier between his real hands and the world. Once he can trust that the Strawhats will always be there for him, he’s more willing to be more physically open.

I also think it’d be cute if he was much more of a coffee drinker :3c I see Canon!Robin as a connoisseur who likes a well-brewed espresso but Boy Piece!Robin needs a cup of joe (no matter its quality) every chance he can get. So I drew him with his special #1 ARCHAEOLOGIST mug.

It would make me so happy if you left your thoughts in the tags or replies!! Even if you hate everything about them, I just really like engagement hahaha. I’m thinking girl Usopp is next despite the poll results because she’s on my mind rn (don’t hold me to this, LOL I’m fickle). I’m making these for fun so I just wanna make designs in the order that interests me the most. Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog to see all the genderbends I have so far. And happy pride!!!

[madlori]

On Tommy Kinard

"It's not that I don't like Buck and Tommy, it's just happening so fast, he's underdeveloped!"

*clears throat*

Here is a recap of what we know about Tommy. And this is just off the top of my head, I didn't rewatch anything.

He was closeted at the 118 before and found the atmosphere repressive. He (probably) acted like a dick to fit in. When presented with the chance to make things better, he took it, and developed positive relationships with Hen, Chim and Bobby.

He was in the army and trained there as a pilot.

He knows Muay Thai and has a set up in his house.

He likes to work on cars and has a lift at his house (where TF does he live is my question - he has some nerve being agog at Buck's loft if he has a muay thai gym and a car lift)

He is down for violating departmental policy at the drop of a hat (has done so on at least two occasions) to help a friend and has no problems fucking with the fire chief.

He is a nerd. He likes pub trivia and has incorrect Star Wars opinions, and can keep up with Chim in the movie-quoting department.

His favorite movie is "Love, Actually" and he likes craft beer and monster trucks.

He came out when he transferred to Harbor and felt comfortable enough to stop lying about who he was.

He follows MMA and has friends in Vegas who like him well enough to hook him up to a frankly insane degree.

He'll risk his own life and engage in helicopter skulduggery to save people he doesn't know...I mean, apart from doing that for a living.

He'll take time out of his day to give a tour to the cute boy who called him up and offer to give that boy flying lessons (a significant time investment) which was probably maybe about more one on one time with said boy.

He yearns for the belonging and found family that the 118 became after his departure and probably befriended Eddie hoping to earn a plate at the cookout, aside from just clicking with him.

He likes Eddie and Chris a lot and they like him. Chimney also likes him.

He was attracted to Buck right away and was emotionally aware enough to pick up on Buck's jealous feelings over Eddie and his friendship, even if he was surprised that it was him Buck wanted to get to know.

He respects and values Buck and Eddie's friendship and wanted to make sure Buck knew that.

He's brave enough to shoot his shot by planting one on a dude.

He's a lil bitchy but also generous and ready to throw in with this insane guy who's inviting him to a family wedding after 0.5 dates.

He showed up to a bachelor party when he was on call because Buck asked him to, then showed up in turnouts after fighting a fire for like 12 hours yadda yadda we all know this part.

He has got it BAD for one Evan Buckley, who he only calls "Evan" which according to LFJR is a conscious decision by the writers, which fascinates me.

He was willing to take a chance with a man just discovering his sexuality BUT wasn't willing to put himself through that if the man in question wasn't ready for it. When Buck showed him that he was, he was all in.

He does NOT take his coffee like that.

Oh and

He's a beast.

This is VASTLY more information than we knew about ANY of Buck's previous girlfriends with the possible exception of Abby. Even Taylor did not get this much development over 20 episodes (things we knew about her: she was an ambitious and ethically flexible reporter, did not eat fudge, had a dad in jail, and sometimes jogged for exercise, she was capable of being nice and did love Buck, I believe). And as for it being fast? Sometimes it just be like that? A relationship doesn't have to have year(s) of buildup. Sometimes people do just meet, like each other, and start dating, in fact in the real world that's usually what happens. It's in TV Land that you have to have eighteen seasons of UST before pulling the trigger. Most of the time in reality people just vibe off each other and decide to go out and THEN they learn about each other.

And they've got a great start. You'd think they'd barely spoken by how a few naysayers are talking about it - the loft scene was like a solid five minutes of very open conversation, the Cringe Date seemed to have gone well and again, open and honest (if cringey) conversation before Cockblocker Eddie showed up, and the coffee meetup was again....open and honest conversation. They're not gonna show us long scenes of them exchanging firefighting stories and workout preferences (I mean, I'd watch that, but it's not what the show is about).

In conclusion, anyone saying he's poorly developed or the relationship is "out of nowhere" either is being willfully obtuse or has ridiculously unrealistic expectations for relationships and/or what constitutes character development.

As for whether they have chemistry, that's a matter of subjective opinion. Given that a TON of people watched that harbor tour scene (even when it was posted as a sneak peek) and started going "wait...what's going on here...are they flirting??" might be a clue. People were talking about Bi!Buck maybe happening with Tommy based solely off that clip of the harbor tour and what they were seeing between them. And imho that loft scene was crackling. But we all see things through the lenses of our biases, myself included.

Got that off my chest, whew.

[yyuangss]

MORE GIRL TALK ! ( STAR RAIL MEN )

SUMMARY ! march 7th finds out you like someone. and as your best friend, it’s only right that she has to give her input on whether or not she approves of him.

NOTES ! part one of girl talk (dan heng, caelus, sampo, jing yuan, and argenti). need hoyo to give the biggest girl’s girl they’ve ever created a bff asap. she deserves it after everything she’s been through 🫡 this goes out to that one anon. if you’re reading this, i added a bonus for you <3

TAGS ! reader is not the trailblazer. contains gepard landu, dr. ratio, aventurine, and boothill. possible spoilers for penacony quest in aventurine’s part, tried to keep it very vague and minimal. feelings are mutual on both ends.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . GEPARD LANDAU !

the biggest mistake you’ve made is telling march you have feelings for the captain of the silvermane guards. because now she’s made herself the conductor of the express, switching course to jarilo-vi, crash landing terribly, and running all the way to serval to ask if gepard has feelings for you. march always assumed there might have been some mutual pinning from gepard’s side. he probably thought he was the best at hiding his feelings, except it didn’t help that he constantly shielded you whenever you were at risk of being at harms way. which in her opinion means he’s willing to protect you no matter what. this trait was very important and she will not let you pass up on that opportunity. according to serval, gepard had already confessed to his sister how he felt towards you and was too shy to admit it. once she confirmed his mutual feelings, serval and march are on matchmaker duty.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . DR. RATIO !

march does think that ratio is mean and extremely talkative. she also believes him to be selfish. there’s already a negative perception of him in her mind. though, her opinion on him is only based off the first time the express met him. compared to you, she hasn’t gotten the chance to truly know him (not that she really wants to). so, march says her judgement is biased and null in this case. she hears a different side when you’re in her room, telling her all about him and how he’s incorporated you into his very busy schedule. and it’s proven to her whenever ratio boards the express for the sole purposes of visiting you. or he’s arriving at the space station around the same time the express gets there, despite having prior plans made. march is very suspicious how the two of you aren’t dating yet. actions speak louder than words and ratio’s actions make her very impressed.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . AVENTURINE !

march won’t lie, she has heavy mixed opinions for aventurine and still doubtful of him. it’s possible that the entire astral express would share these mixed opinions if you told one of them. on one hand, she’s grateful for all the help he aided with. had he not been there, you all would’ve never gotten into penacony. she’s surprised to hear you ran into him several times when you were exploring. it’s where you got to know him while he showed you around, taking you to all the best sight seeing locations. aventurine didn’t waste a second to express his interest in you. even after what happened with him before the final battle in penacony, he still showed that same interest. which is why march doesn’t know why you’re wasting time telling her about your feelings towards him when you should be admitting them to aventurine instead. her mixed opinions will still be present. once she gets to know him like you did, they’ll eventually fade and she’ll be less on the weary side.

BONUS !

dan heng’s thoughts on . . . BOOTHILL !

“oh.” is all he says. dan heng is not very vocal, so his expression and body language tell you all you need to know. in this case, a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look forming on his face. he’s not really interested in this type of talk and that’s one of the main reasons. still, as your closest friend, dan heng doesn’t want you to think that you and your feelings aren’t important to him. his quiet demeanor makes him more observant. watching you and boothill interact makes dan heng realize how truly oblivious you are. it’s clear as day that the interstellar cowboy is interested in you. unless he’s the only person who has caught on to the mutual feelings. but there’s no way especially with all the darlin’s and sweetheart’s boothill calls you. either way, in his opinion, you should be with who makes you happy and dan heng won’t stop you from that. will bluntly expose yours and boothill’s attraction if either of you take too long.

[aajxs]

THE UNNOTICEABLE HAJIME IWAIZUMI

🏐 : ̗̀➛ hajime iwaizumi doesn't expect much when it comes to girls, but he thinks he might've finally found one thats out of his best friends reach.

CONTENTS // fluff / light angst / jealous iwa / i switch between iwa, hajime, and iwaizumi a lot so i hope that doesn't bother anybody / some cursing?? idk this is mostly fluff // 1.3k

PAIRINGS // hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader

A/N // I watched the haikyuu movie yesterday and it was so good icl... I wanna write for kuroo now he's so sexy. i tried out a different header theme for this one and I honestly like it more than the other one idrk. anyways enjoy this little drabble 🩷.

// MASTERLIST .

HAJIME IWAIZUMI has always been the less noticeable friend.

It's not like he doesn't get attention. He gets plenty of that. But when it comes to girls, or anything in the dating category at all, most of them flock to Tooru.

He doesn't resent his best friend for his popularity, Hajime just wishes girls didn't come up to him to get closer to his friend.

Him and Tooru are grabbing fast food after practice and a girl approaches him as he sits at the table he chose for him and his teammate. Tooru is in line, probably flirting with the girl across the counter as he orders for him and his best friend.

Iwaizumi feels a little pathetic for hoping that she's going to ask about him. That maybe, just maybe, he might be getting a chance for once. He gets his hopes up, only to be completely shut down when she asks for Tooru's number. He thinks she might notice the light in his face dim, but she doesn't acknowledge it.

"You'll have to ask him. Not sure if he wants me giving out his number to randoms." He says as he turns his attention away from her, a lousy attempt to hide his annoyance.

She nods understandingly, "W-well, thanks anyway." She stammers a bit, her voice small and nervous.

He stops assuming so much when girls approach him after that, always prepared to slide his friends socials and move on with his day.

So, when you approach him, obviously a bit hesitant as you clutch your sides and stare at him nervously, he doesn't even let you speak before he starts spouting his friends socials.

"Huh?" You ask a bit cluelessly, and Iwaizumi looks over at you.

"You're here to ask about Oikawa, right?" He says, staring down at you. He's obviously confused, a thick brow raised as he eyes you.

"N-no..? I wanted to talk to you." You reluctantly say, and he tenses up. You don't even spare a glance at Oikawa, who's entertaining a few girls a few meters away.

"Me..?" He asks, surprised.

"You." You respond, dead serious.

The puny sparks of your attempt at conversation light a wildfire in Hajime's weak heart. The small talk you try to make forms into real, genuine talking.

Although, even when you ask for his number, he can't help but think you might be trying to get close to him just to get with Tooru as he types in his number.

He doesn't tell you that he thinks you're playing him. And even if you were, you would've already had him beat because it's barely been two weeks of talking and he's already wrapped around your finger.

Hajimes lack of need for attention wasn't something you acknowledged at first. You thought it was natural because not only was this his first time talking to a girl, but it's your first time being the one approaching. You don't know what guys like unless they tell you, so you just do what you think is right.

And then you came to the subtle realization that maybe he's not desperate because he doesn't expect much from you. Is he toying with you? Was the first question you asked yourself.

On the other hand, Hajime doesn't expect much because he thinks he knows how this goes (he doesn't).

Hajime respects Tooru. And usually, he wouldn't add a but to that, but... he is willing to go to any lengths possible to keep you as far away from him as he physically can.

He knows how his friend gets with crushes. He'll either do everything in his power to completely embarrass Hajime, or he'll flirt with the girl and make her realize that maybe she doesn't like him as much as she thought.

That's his version of a loyalty test. Take the girl he likes around his best friend and observe her reactions to everything he does. So, that's exactly what he does with you.

Hajime had no idea that you've already met Tooru many times before. You light up when you see him, and Iwa can already feel his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. And then, to put the cherry on top, you go in for a hug. You're even on first name basis, no honorifics or anything. He might aswell lay in his coffin early, because watching you hug Oikawa is the closest to dying he's ever been.

You look over at Iwaizumi to see him glaring daggers at the two of you, a green eyed monster taking over his body as he scowls. Your smile drops, and you wonder what he looks so mad for.

"Are you alright, Iwa?" You ask obliviously, tilting your head and taking a step towards him. His eyes land on you, and they soften ever so slightly.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." He responds, blinking softly.

And for the rest of the day, all you do is worry about him. The pain on his face and the damp look in his eyes whenever he looks at you interacting with Tooru.

When the two of you go back to his place that afternoon, he asks to talk.

Iwa starts, "Is there something wrong with me?" He asks. You're taken aback, but you can tell he's serious by the look in his eyes. He looks hurt.

"Why would there be something wrong with you?" You ask, reaching over to grab the hand at his side.

"I just-" His voice cracks, and you want to fall to your knees right then and there. Hajime is about to cry and you don't know what to do.

The lump in his throat grows bigger the longer he stares at you. "Why didn't you tell me you already knew Oikawa?" He asks, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill like water from a faucet. He didn't exactly mean to ask that, but he thinks it's much better than 'I thought that maybe for once someone might like me, but as always they go to Tooru.'

"What do you mean? I thought you knew?" You ask, oblivious to the thoughts running rampant through his mind. Your grip on his hand tightens when a tear breaks past the defenses he's put up. You want to ask what you did wrong. You want to ask why he's crying. But the lump in your throat from watching his sadness grow and grow is unbearable, keeping you from asking for some much needed clarification.

"Knew what?" He asks, unable to think of anything rational or any kind of explanation for this other than you're interested in Oikawa.

"Me and Tooru grew up together- He's my cousin." You say, eyeing him confusedly and sadly.

Iwaizumi pauses. A wave of embarrassment washes over him. He was getting jealous over your cousin this entire time?

The night you met Hajime, Tooru invited you, his cousin, to get drinks. He must've forgotten to clear this information with Hajime because now he's standing in front of you, his deep eyes wide and filled with tears of anger.

"What? Did I do something? Are you okay?" You begin asking questions profusely, and Hajime just stares at you.

And then he begins laughing.

You're confused at his sudden change in emotion, the humorous chuckles leaving his mouth catching you completely off guard. "Hajime, what's going on?" You ask as he brings you into a relieved hug.

"For a second there I really thought you and Oikawa had something going on." He responds as he places his head on top of yours comfortably.

You audibly gag. "Are you serious?! This entire time I thought you knew I was his cousin!" You say into his chest. He tightens the hug, a deep laugh leaving his lips.

"Man, this is so fuckin' embarrassing." He laughs, and you can't help but join in.

"Like I'd ever choose his annoying ass over you anyways."

And suddenly, the unnoticeable Hajime Iwaizumi feels seen for the first time in forever.

© AAJXS

[saphronethaleph]

"Pick up" some Power Converters

“...no, what you want to do is to have most of the shipment be something innocuous – on every run. That way, even a random inspection probably won’t find anything. If you absolutely need to break that rule, still have some innocuous crates, but what you also want to do is to build up a friendship with the inspectors. Find out their routines if you can, and test out if you can bribe them to not bother looking – then you can aim the vital runs to be specifically with the people who you can bribe.”

“You’re sure that works?” Dodonna asked.

“Well, yeah,” Luke replied, with a shrug.

“Luke?” Leia called. “Luke?”

She leaned around the door. “How long have you been in here? We’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes.”

Luke frowned, then glanced down at his comlink. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“We don’t know your com code, kid,” Han provided. “You didn’t get around to telling us.”

Luke’s expression cleared.

“I have been going through Threepio if I need a com discussion,” he admitted. “I guess that’s not going to work if we’re staying with the Rebellion long term, though, I really should give you my com code-”

“Not now,” Leia objected. “What were you talking about, anyway?”

“He was giving us lessons,” Dodonna provided, indicating every single intel operative on Yavin IV and about half of the other Rebel Alliance techs sitting around.

“It’s basic stuff, right?” Luke asked. “I’m surprised you don’t know it.”

Leia frowned. “Lessons in what?” she asked. “Farming?”

“Well, sort of?” Luke replied. “Not moisture farming, not that bit, but the other stuff. I guess it’s helpful, and I’m glad to help!”

“What other stuff, then?” Han asked, leaning on the door, then got out of the way as Chewbacca made a questioning noise. “Right, sorry Chewie…”

“You know,” Luke said. “The basic stuff. Hiding stashes, underground hyperlanes, gun running, how to deflect attention from an enforcer without their realizing you’re doing it. Burning out slave collars, dead drops.”

He shrugged. “Farming.”

Leia blinked.

“That’s… not farming,” she said. “That sounds like a hostile-environment intelligence agent tutorial… how would you pass off vital information?”

“Let’s see…” Luke frowned. “One option – disguise it as something innocuous, while anyone would assume you’d hidden it in a much more complex way. Option two – copy it, send both versions by different routes or hide it in two different places. If you’re willing, get tortured, then crack under torture and give up one of them – that means they’ll believe they’ve got everything. Then another choice is to make it completely public, that’s a bit of a last-chance thing but if you make it completely public then everyone gets to see it including your intended recipient.”

He glanced up at her. “I guess you did the first one, gave up one location but they decided to keep looking for the other, and that’s what led them to R2? Or did you use one of the other methods? I could keep going.”

Leia shook her head.

“Okay, I’m convinced you know what you’re doing,” she said. “But how do you know all this stuff?”

“Do you not?” Luke replied, sounding slightly baffled. “This is boring stuff. Kid’s stuff, you’ve got to do it right but it’s a yawn fest. How does nobody have any ideas about it?”

“I know,” Han declared.

He pointed at Luke. “Farmboy, yes. Tatooine farmboy. The only thing that planet exports is crime.”

Luke looked momentarily offended.

“...yeah, I guess,” he agreed, relenting.

[girlgenius1111]

overworked

putellas!reader r is struggling with being a full time student & playing for Barça, and being alexia putellas' sister. she turns to some unhealthy methods to cope, and her sister is not pleased when she finds out. warnings: panic attacks, hospitalization, drug use [very mild]

--------

"Alexia," Olga murmured, shaking her girlfriend gently. The blonde only mumbled incoherently, rolling away from the disruptive sound of her girlfriend's voice, and tucking her head under her pillow.

"Alexia Putellas Segura," Olga repeated, yanking the pillow away.

"Hey! What do you want?" Alexia asked grumpily, glaring up at her girlfriend.

"I think your sister is still awake. I went to get water and her light was on."

Alexia sighed, running a hand over her face. "What time?"

"It's 3am."

"Hermanita loca," Alexia groaned, rolling off the side of the bed and directly onto the floor, before popping up and heading for the door.

"You are so dramatic." Olga sighed, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend's antics.

You'd lived with your sister for a while now; after signing with Barça, Alexia had convinced your mami that the best thing would be for you to live with her. Alexia could keep an eye on you, and Eli wouldn’t have to deal with the crazy schedule you had to follow. 

Being a 20 year old playing for the best football club in the world, while simultaneously being a full time student was not easy. In fact, you were pretty sure it was slowly killing you. 

You were, and always had been, a perfectionist. You weren't a quitter. In your family, you saw through your commitments. So, even though you were dead tired, stressed beyond belief, and barely keeping up with your coursework, you wouldn't give up. You wouldn't even drop a class. You were running yourself into the ground, and everyone around you could tell. Well, mostly everyone. 

You'd heard Olga get up, and you knew her well enough to know that she had probably woken your sister to tell her that your light was on. Before she could come marching into your room and take your computer, you flicked the light off, shut your laptop, and burrowed under the covers.

Sure enough, your door creaked open a minute later, and your sister poked her head in, finding you 'asleep'. She knew you, though, too, and she didn't buy it for a second.

"Nice try." She said, voice just above a whisper. She moved towards your bed, flicking the light back on, and grabbing your laptop.

"Alexiaaaa," you complained, pretending she'd woken you. You squinted your eyes at her, removing the covers from your face, finding her staring at you with one eyebrow raised. You knew you were fucked, but you needed to get this essay done, tonight. The thought of adding it to tomorrow's to-do list made you want to cry.

"That was quite a performance." She opened the computer, where your essay was still pulled up, and looked at the document history.

"'Last edit made: 3 minutes ago'. Do you think I don't know all your tricks, nena?" Alexia teased, shutting the laptop again, and moving to get off the bed to leave the room with it. She caught your facial expression, though, and realized you were barely holding back tears.

"Hey," she said softly. "What is it? What's wrong?" Alexia took a seat back on the edge of the bed, brushing a piece of hair out of your face as you blinked hard, willing the tears away.

"Please give it back." You managed, gesturing towards your computer.

Alexia grew stern once more. "Nena. No. It's late, and you need sleep. This isn't healthy."

"I need to finish this essay, Alexia, please," you pleaded. You and your sister were similar, especially in that you were both very stubborn. The chance of either of you letting up was... low. Alexia held your computer, though, and therefore, held all the power.

"No. You can finish it tomorrow."

"I can't! We have training, and I have an essay to do for another class, and an exam to study for, and a presentation to start, and-"

"You are working yourself too hard, nena. None of those things are more important than sleep. You can turn in some things late, it won't kill you."

Unlike you, Alexia was not a perfectionist; at least not when it came to school. She tolerated it for as long as she had to, before putting all of her energy into football. It had paid off, but Alexia never understood your need to be a good student, to get the highest grade possible in everything.

This very distinct difference between the two of you often caused confusion on Alexia’s part, and frustration on yours. Alexia didn’t understand why you couldn’t just relax about school, and you didn’t understand how Alexia expected you to be okay with getting anything less than a perfect score. 

“Alexia,” you began. 

“No. Sleep.” Alexia insisted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room, your computer held hostage in her arms. You waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and opened up your essay. It wasn’t ideal, but it needed to be done. Sleep was the last thing on your mind. 

You finished the essay an hour later, which gave you only 5 hours of sleep. Still, you’d trained with less sleep, and you probably would again. 

--------

Being the sister of the best in the world wasn’t easy. Alba had been telling you that for years. Being the sister of the best in the world, and playing the same sport that she was the best at, though? That was a different kind of nightmare, one which you lived everyday. 

Though the athleticism genes seemed to skip right over your middle sister, it was clear to everyone that from a young age that you were talented on the football pitch. The 10 year age gap between you and your sister meant that Alexia had always blurred the line between parent figure and sister. Once you got serious about football, Alexia made it her mission to make sure you were the best that you could be. 

From extra training to talking about tactics while you were supposed to be studying for school, your sister had always made it clear to you that if you wanted football, school would have to come second. Your mami disagreed heavily, but no one on earth had the will to stop Alexia doing something she’d decided was important. And as her baby sister, you showing interest in following in her footsteps was the most important thing. Ever. She’d moved you in with her when you were 18, still playing on the Barça B team. It was because of your sister that you excelled enough there to move up to the first team by the time you were 19. 

Your sister had been stunned when you told her you intended to attend university and get your degree while you continued your football career. For her, football was it. Football was everything. It was all she had ever wanted to do, and all she would ever want to do. For you, though, it was much more complicated. You loved football. And maybe you would have loved it as much as Alexia did, if it hadn’t been for your sister herself. 

It was a combination of things that had begun to leech away your love for the game. It was the pressure Alexia put on you, for sure. The demand for perfection at all times, even if she told you that it was okay to make mistakes. It was the expectations inside of the team to be a mini Alexia, to take charge and be a leader even though you were much shyer and quieter than she was. Above all else, though, it was the feeling that nothing you would ever accomplish, no matter how hard you tried, how hard you pushed, would ever be enough. Alexia, the public, the team, the coaching staff, they all expected you to be a younger version of your sister. They expected you to do what she did, sooner than she’d done it, and better than she’d done it. 

The pressure mounted. It built over several years, accumulating until you were 20 years old, and you weren’t even sure why you were still playing. You didn’t think you loved football anymore. You kept going because of Alexia, because you’d made commitments. But the truth was that you worked so hard in school because that was your safety net. It was your chance to do something that was your own, do something that Alexia hadn’t done first. It was a place where you were spared constant comparisons to your sister, a place where you felt like yourself, your own person. 

You loved Ale; that wasn’t the issue. It was just that very accomplishment you had was tinged with it just not being as good as something your sister had done. And it felt like everything football related you would ever do would be overshadowed. 

It felt like if you ever wanted to be something other than Alexia Putellas’ baby sister, you’d have to do it someplace else. 

So it was a full workload of classes for you, on top of training with the team. On top of playing for the national team. Alexia didn’t understand why school was so important, no one did. But you were committed to having a back up plan. Football wasn’t your passion at the moment. So much of the joy you had while playing had drained away. 

You couldn’t slow down with football, that was out of the question. And you couldn’t slow down with school, either, not if you wanted to graduate on time. Your only option was to push through. 

It was inevitable, really, that you’d stumble, that it would all become too much. And inevitable that you’d break. You just couldn’t fathom what would come after that, so you plowed forward. Moved steadily ahead, towards the edge of a cliff. You didn’t know what awaited you at the bottom once you fell from the edge, but you were well past caring. 

-------

Your sister always kept a close eye on you during training. She made sure you were hydrated enough, that you didn’t get overheated, that you weren’t doing anything to risk injury. Any hint of discomfort on your face had your sister yanking you off the pitch and dragging you inside to get evaluated. 

No one could ever accuse Alexia of not caring. 

Today, she noted that you looked preoccupied. And that you’d brought your phone into the gym with you, which in and of itself wasn’t odd. It was the way you were checking it obsessively in between reps that had Alexia slightly concerned. You weren’t talking to your friends the way you normally did, and just as Alexia had decided to put her foot down and pull you aside, you picked up your phone again. 

This time, your face dropped, all the color draining out of your cheeks. Before Alexia could take even a step in your direction, you were slipping out of the gym, rushing into the locker room as you stared at something on your phone.

“What are you doing?” Alexia said, following you into the locker room. 

“I- I got a grade back.” You told her. 

“A grade?” 

“On the exam from last week,” you whispered. 

“Is it bad?” Alexia wondered, taking a few steps closer to you. Her mind flashed back to when she used to have to show Eli a bad grade she’d gotten on an exam during school. Normally, she’d slip her the paper and take off to hide in your room, because Eli didn’t like to yell in front of the baby. Alexia wondered if you were so upset because you were worried about her reaction. 

“No Ale, I did well, that’s why I'm freaking out,” you snapped sarcastically, falling back down onto the bench as your chest heaved, hiding your face in your hands. “I can’t breathe.”

“Hermana?” Alexia asked, brow furrowing with concern as she looked at you. 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated, your voice muffled by your hands. 

“What is happening?” Alexia asked, her face clouded with concern as she sat down next to you. “Hermanita, tell me what is wrong.” 

You thrust your phone into her hands. It took Alexia a moment to figure out what she was looking at, but then she saw the grade reflected back at her. It wasn’t bad by any means, but it wasn’t your usual perfect score. 

“Nena, this isn’t bad,” she tried, but you pulled your hands away from your face to glare at her, barely able to form words. 

“It’s- not good enough, Ale, I need to do bet-better than that, it’s not good enough,” you sobbed. Alexia couldn’t remember ever caring this much about a grade, but she knew how different you were from her, and she did her best to comfort you. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay nena,” she soothed, noticing Irene and Mapi walking in through the locker room door, looking concerned, but she couldn’t tear her focus away from you. You’d gone completely silent on her, the only sound you were making being a choked gasp as you tried to inhale enough air. “Nena?” 

“Ale, help,” you cried, both of your trembling hands clawing at your chest. Your face was rapidly losing color and you looked completely dazed and completely petrified. Irene and Mapi moved closer, looking between the two of you.

“Hermana?” Alexia panicked. You shook your head, a few tears escaping. You swayed in your seat, tilting forward until you were half leaning on your sister, and gripped onto her shirt with your hands, desperate for some relief from the tidal wave of terror and panic rushing through you.  “Nena, talk to me.” Alexia said, rubbing your back as she looked between her teammates. 

“Can’t breathe,” you gasped, “chest hurts.” 

Alexia froze, but Irene snapped into action. 

“Mapi, call an ambulance.” She instructed. “Ale, let’s get her on the ground before she passes out.” 

The world was swirling around you, nothing comprehensible. Before you knew it, you were laid on the floor of the locker room, your head resting in your sister’s lap as her hands anxiously fiddled with your hair. You could see her mouth moving, and you tried to force your ears to hear anything other than an echoing ring. 

“You’re okay, nena. You’re okay, I’ve got you. You’re going to be just fine.” 

You blinked, but when you opened your eyes next, you were moving through the halls of the Barça facility. You felt a bit like you were floating, and though there was a mask on your face that was forcing oxygen into you, it still didn’t feel like there was enough air on earth to fill your lungs. 

You blinked again, and Alexia’s face was hovering over yours, along with the face of a stranger. You could hear a bit better now, and even as your eyes tried to shut, you did your best to listen before you drifted back off.

“-does she keep passing out?” That sounded like Alexia. Worried Alexia.  

“A lack of oxygen, she’s breathing too rapidly. Every time she comes to, her heart rate picks up again.” 

“Stay awake, please,” Alexia begged, the paramedic next to her forgotten as she glanced down and noticed your eyes were open.  

And you wanted to, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe. You were pretty sure you were dying, and the only thought you had was that at least the anxiety would finally stop. 

-------

You were completely calm when you woke up. Sleepy beyond belief, and your body felt heavy, but you were calm. It was hard to peel your eyes open, and harder to try to move your hand to rub at your eyes. 

You remembered what had happened, but you didn’t feel panicked like you normally did. The constant pulse of anxiety wasn’t running through you as it normally did, and though you couldn’t figure out why, you were relieved beyond belief. 

“Hey,” Alexia whispered. She was sat at your bedside, cheeks alarmingly tearstained. 

Your guard was up instantly, and your sister could tell. She desperately wanted to know what was happening to you, what had caused this, but she knew from the look on your face that you wouldn’t talk to her. 

And that hurt more than she wanted to admit. 

“I am going to go call Mami and tell her you are awake.” Alexia said, avoiding eye contact as she got up and left the room. You hadn’t realized Olga was standing against the wall until she moved, taking Alexia’s vacant seat. She gave you a soft smile. 

“Hi.” You whispered. 

“Hi.” She replied, taking your hand in hers. 

“Was it a panic attack?” 

“It was.” Olga nodded. “Has that happened before?” 

“Never that bad.” 

“You need to talk to someone. And it doesn’t have to be me or Ale, but something is going on. I don’t know what, but you need help.” 

“I’m fine, Olga.” You said, biting your lip and looking away from the brunette. She sat silently for a minute. 

“Alexia is not going to let this go. You know that. You terrified her today, and you know as well as I do that she would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you are okay. It doesn’t matter how much you pretend, nena. She sees right through you.” Olga said gently, falling quiet as your sister reentered the room.

You knew she was right. But like your sister, you were stubborn, too. And you wouldn’t make this easy. 

-------

Three days and two painful therapy sessions later, you were dragged into a meeting to discuss your wellbeing. Your favorite topic. 

The meeting really couldn’t have gone worse. The team psychologist, Ana, couldn’t say much because of confidentiality reasons, but she’d made it clear that if you kept going like this, panic attacks like you'd had the other day would keep happening. You were under a high amount of stress between school and football, and it was of her opinion that something needed to change. 

Ana suggested you be benched for a few weeks, while you figured things out. She told Jona, and Alexia and Irene who were sitting in the meeting, that she didn’t think you were being honest with her, and that if you were going to get better, you needed to be. 

You’d barely spoken during the meeting. Alexia did all the talking for you, and she managed to convince Ana not to bench you, not yet. You were given 2 weeks to get a better football-school balance, and to prove that you were mentally doing better. If your sister, Ana, and Jona felt that you weren’t improving after 2 weeks, you’d be benched.  

You knew Alexia was upset when she ignored you the rest of the day. The entire training session, the entire drive home. Olga looked confused at the icy tension between the two of you as Alexia stormed into the house, turning to face you with a frustrated look on her face. 

“Here is what we are going to do. I want you to drop a class, but you are not going to agree to that. So, you are going to put your computer in my room every night at 11pm. You will either finish your homework by then or it won’t get done. Either way, you will go to bed at 11. You will see the psychologist twice a week. You will come to me if you have any more panic attacks. We are fixing this before it goes any further, okay?”

She paused, raising her eyebrows at you. 

“Okay.” You agreed. There was no arguing with your sister, and you knew it. You’d have to break the rules, rather than try to change them. Alexia was instantly suspicious how easily you’d agreed to her request. 

“There is no option of you being benched, pequeña. Football comes first, before school, before everything. Do you understand?” 

“I understand.” 

“Good.” Alexia turned without another word, heading upstairs to take a shower. You avoided eye contact with Olga, as you slipped upstairs, too. You had a call to make.

-------

It was a bad idea. You knew it as soon as you bought the pills, but that didn’t stop you. 

It was just a few. Just to get you through this upcoming round of exams and through football. You had to wait for Alexia and Olga to both fall asleep to get your computer out of their room. Once you finished your homework, it was normally around 3 or 4 and you were exhausted. You had to put your computer back, and then you could go to sleep. It wasn’t a sustainable routine, but it was your only choice. And the only way you knew how to accomplish it was to take the adderall you’d bought from a boy at school. 

You couldn’t quit school. When football failed, or you quit, whichever came first, you needed to have a plan b. School was your plan b. 

And you weren’t sure you wanted to quit football. You hadn’t decided yet. It was suffocating, playing in Alexia’s shadow, and you just weren’t sure how much more you could take. Quitting, though. You weren’t quite there yet. 

You just had to keep going. Keep trying to balance both things, and not let anyone know how miserable you were. You didn’t really consider, very naively, that the pills would make everything worse. 

-------

You took one for the first time the next evening after training. 

The guilt that hit after you swallowed the pill was unbearable. You couldn't work, couldn’t get anything done. You curled up into a ball on your bed and let your thoughts run wild. All you could think was that you were risking everything; school, football, everything. 

It was school or it was football, but you couldn’t have both. You were pretty sure of that now. Something had to change. You had to get rid of the pills, and you had to make a decision. 

School or football. 

Disappointing your sister, or never living up to her expectations. 

And, ironically, the only person you could really turn to for help was Alexia 

You couldn’t keep everything a secret anymore. And even though you were terrified of being honest with her, you knew you had no other choice. 

-------

Alexia and Olga were lounging on the couch, Olga draped across your sister, when you walked in. Olga saw you first, sitting up slightly at the sight of the distressed look on your face. She nudged Alexia, who paused the TV and turned expectantly towards you, a frown tugging at her lips as she looked up at you. 

“Pequeña-?” Alexia cut herself off when you took the plastic bag out of your pocket, the little blue pills clearly visible inside. You dropped it onto the table in front of her. 

“I bought them from someone at school. It’s adderall. I didn’t take any. Get rid of them, please.” You said numbly, refusing to make eye contact with your sister, before turning and walking back out of the room. 

Alexia and Olga sat in stunned silence for a minute, before the blonde slowly reached for the bag, picking it up gingerly and looking at the pills. Her expression quickly grew angry, and she moved to stand up from the couch and follow you up the stairs. Olga grabbed her arm, though, pulling her back down onto the couch. 

“Ale, hold on.” 

“She bought drugs, Olga. This could have ruined her career, gotten her kicked out of school, gotten her arrested. You cannot tell me not to yell at her,” Alexia complained, though she turned to Olga with an expectant expression on her face. 

“She brought drugs, Alexia.” Olga repeated slowly. “Your perfect marks, perfect training schedule, perfectly behaved sister bought drugs to try to keep up with her school work. She is so stressed about getting everything done that she bought drugs. She didn’t take them, she gave them to you before she took them. This isn’t normal, Alexia, this is not a normal stress level for a 20 year old to have. Yelling at her is not going to make it better. Trust me, Ale, talk to her like she’s an adult.” 

Alexia considered that, for a minute. It was worth a shot, she supposed. And she could always start yelling if she needed to. 

-------

The softness of the knock on your door was almost unnerving. You’d expected Alexia to follow you up the stairs, shouting her head off. It had been a few minutes, though, and you’d only just heard her quiet footsteps coming up the stairs. 

“Come in,” you called shakily. 

Alexia walked in slowly, her every step measured. You could tell that she was trying to keep herself calm, which is more than you expected. More than you deserved. 

Your sister didn’t speak as she came in, didn’t seem to know what to say. She just slid onto the floor next to you, seemingly stunned into silence.  

“I fucked up.” You said after a minute. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister nod slowly. 

Very suddenly, she put a hand on your shoulder, forcefully turning you in her direction. Her eyes looked severe when you looked up at her, and all you wanted to do was cry and beg for her to forgive you. 

“Hermanita. Did you take any of those pills?” Alexia asked, enunciating each word slowly. She was looking at you right in the eye, and you knew that if you lied, she’d be able to tell. You’d lied before, and you thought you’d be able to keep it going, but you couldn’t. All of a sudden, you felt like another lie might suffocate you. 

“One.” You whispered, shutting your eyes tightly. 

Alexia exhaled slowly. “When? Today?” 

“Sí.” You told her, voice dripping with shame. You couldn't look at her. If she’d been disappointed in you before, you were sure the look on her face now would be something you couldn’t tolerate. 

“You feel okay? No hives, no allergic reactions?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

Alexia didn’t really feel like taking your word for it, evidently, and you felt her hand grip your chin and turn your face up towards her. She didn’t look as disappointed as you’d feared. She looked worried, and a bit lost as she inspected your face. 

“I don’t know what to say. I’m… I am upset with you. This is just so unlike you, nena, and I am really worried. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’m never going to do it again, Ale, I gave you all the pills, I swear.” 

Alexia shook her head. “The pills are a problem, but something is going on with you to make you feel like you needed to do this, and I want to understand.” 

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I was just stressed, it was a mistake and I won’t make it again.” You dismissed. 

“It is not nothing!” Alexia shouted, seeing you wince and look away from her. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that yelling wasn’t the way to get you to talk to her. “It is not nothing. I am your sister, nena, you can tell me whatever is going on. I can help you. I can fix whatever isn’t okay, you just have to tell me.” 

“Alexia, there is nothing to fix. Now please, I gave you the pills and I know I fucked up. There isn’t anything to talk about, just leave it alone.” You hated how much she was pushing. You’d prefer if she would just yell. Yelling, you could take. But honesty? And what would come with it? There was no chance on earth that Alexia would understand. She was Alexia, and you were just you. Her younger sister, who would never live up to her legacy, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Leave it alone?!” Alexia yelled again, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically. She rose to her feet, beginning to pace, and you stood up too, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest. “You bought drugs at school, you took a pill that was not prescribed to you, you have been going crazy with anxiety, and I want to know why!” 

“I told you, I was just stressed.” You said through clenched teeth, willing yourself not to rise to her level of anger, even though you wanted to. Why was she pushing so hard? Why did she care so much?

“This has to be more than just stress, pequeña! Doing things like this is not okay, you are not okay.” 

“I’m fine.” You insisted. 

“Stop lying to me!” Alexia yelled, ignoring the appearance of Olga in your doorway, even as she felt her girlfriend giving her a look that told her to calm down. 

“Ale-” Olga began, but you cut her off. 

“ I am doing the best that I can, I am doing everything I can to be good enough for you and for the team and for everyone, but none of it is ever enough!” You shouted, slamming your mouths shut when you felt like you’d said too much. 

“This is about school, not football. No one is making you do school! This stress is your own doing, this pressure is coming from you, not anyone else. Drop a class, drop out for all I care. What you are doing to yourself is completely unnecessary.” Alexia said, completely and entirely confused as to just why school was so important to you. Important enough to risk everything.

“It is not unnecessary, Alexia. I need a backup plan, and school is my backup plan.” 

“You have football, why do you need a backup plan?” Alexia scoffed, rolling her eyes at you in a way that made your body flame with rage. 

“Maybe I don’t want football, Alexia. Maybe that’s not what I want anymore.” 

Alexia stared at you, jaw dropped in shock. “What?” She whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Olga step closer, but you willed yourself not to look at her. Olga was always more sympathetic than Ale, and you were pretty sure the look on her face would break you right now.

“I can’t do it anymore, Ale, I can’t,” 

“You are 20! You are a baby! How could you want to quit, you have barely even gotten started!” 

“You don’t understand what it’s like for me, Alexia.” 

The blonde rolled her eyes. How could you say that? Of course she understood. “I do, nena, I understand better than anyone, but you cannot just give up because things are more difficult than you anticipated.”

“No. You don’t understand. Things aren’t more difficult than I anticipated, they are impossible. I am losing my mind, Ale, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t.” 

“So you want to quit? All of it, everything you’ve worked for. Throw away everything I’ve done for you?”

“I don’t know, Ale. I just can’t do it like this anymore.” 

Your sister didn’t understand. The anger on her face told you that, and you knew when she opened her mouth next, her words would hurt more than you thought possible. 

“If you are quitting because it is hard, you are not the person I thought you were. Putellas’ don’t quit. I expected so much more from you.” 

And even though you’d anticipated it, the words Alexia spit at you still felt like a bullet through the heart. Mostly because you were pretty sure she was right. You were a failure and a disappointment beyond comparison. 

Your sister took a step back, and though her face remained hard, she was horrified at herself. 

“Alexia, that is enough,” Olga snapped, walking to stand in between the two of you. She knew she’d stepped in too late but the roles of Alexia’s girlfriend and of someone who cared about you were difficult to balance. 

“I’m going to Alba’s. I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry Alexia.” You rushed out of the room, leaving your sister frozen, in horror at her own words, behind you. 

-------

When Alexia got to Alba’s,  she could hear you from the hall. Your sister paused for a minute. She’d expected you to be angry, expected you to be telling Alba exactly what she’d said. She’d expected anger, and that wasn’t what she found. 

Instead, she opened the door to Alba’s apartment quietly and stepped inside. You were curled up on the couch, your head in Alba’s lap as she soothingly ran her fingers through your hair. 

“I-I’ve ruined everything,” you sobbed. 

“No, hermanita.You made a mistake. Nothing is ruined.” 

“She hates me now,” you continued, as if you hadn’t heard Alba speak at all. 

“You need to breathe, cariño, you need to calm down.” 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you cried, before words became impossible and all you could do was cry. 

Alba looked up, then, her face thunderous as she caught sight of her older sister. She shook her head, but Alexia’s eyes were only on you. 

“Hermanita,” she whispered, cautiously walking closer to the sofa. You sat upright at the sound of your oldest sister’s voice, a downright terrified expression on your face. “I don’t hate you, nena. I could never hate you.” 

Your face crumpled at her words, the last stable part of you collapsing.“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore, Ale, I can’t,” 

“Alright, alright.” Alexia soothed, sitting down on the couch next to you. 

“We’re gonna fix it, hermanita. Whatever is wrong, whatever you are struggling with, we are going to fix it.” Alba promised you, exchanging a look with her older sister. Alba was pretty furious with Alexia at the moment, but they knew they’d need each other to get you through this.The destroyed state you were in now, the things you’d been doing were all signs that you weren’t okay, and that you needed their help. They were determined to help you.   

You sat in between your sisters, crying harder than you ever had before. You weren’t sure how everything had gotten so messed up. And you weren’t sure you knew how it could be fixed. 

-------

Alexia and Alba had both decided that you should go back home, and get some rest. 

Olga had been anxiously waiting for you both to return, having sent your sister after you almost as soon as you’d left the house. Neither you or Alexia had said much upon arriving back home. You’d been practically catatonic when you’d walked through the front door; cheeks tearstained, body slumped against your sister’s as she helped you into the house. You’d gone right up to bed, and Alexia had simply pulled Olga into a hug. All Ale had told her girlfriend was that she was going to sit you down tomorrow and get you to talk. She was going to figure out what was wrong. What had brought you to this point, why you’d been hiding things from her. She was going to get you to talk if she had to get down on her knees and beg. 

Alexia had already texted Jona and told him neither of you would be in tomorrow, aside from a meeting with Ana that your sister had scheduled for the afternoon. If Alexia couldn’t get you talking, she hoped the therapist would. If that didn’t work, she’d call Eli. The only reason she hadn’t called her mami yet was because she knew how hard Eli would come down on you for the drugs, and on Alexia for not taking better care of you. And Alexia knew that each of you respectively carried enough shame for both of those things. 

 Your sister lay awake in her bed that night, trying to piece together what exactly was happening with you. It was like there was a big piece missing, and she couldn’t think her way through the problem no matter how hard she tried. She tossed and turned in her bed for at least an hour, fighting the urge to go check on you. 

“Ale.” Olga whispered, having been woken up by her girlfriend's restlessness. She rolled onto her side and wrapped her arm around her girlfriend’s body. 

Alexia sniffled. “Did I wake you?” 

“No. I was thirsty.” Olga lied, sitting up to grab her water off her nightstand. “Worrying all night is not going to help your sister, baby.”

“Well, I can try.” Alexia said back, turning on her side to bury her face in Olga’s shirt. “I messed up. So badly. She wants to quit football, she brought drugs at school. She’s been miserable for so long and I didn’t know. I didn’t do anything about it.” 

Olga ran her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair, thinking hard about what to say. “Amor, you can’t go back and change things. You can just try to be better for her.” 

“What if I can’t be better? What if I’m just a bad sister? A bad person?” 

“You aren’t either of those things, mi amor. A mistake doesn’t make you bad.”

“This is more than just one mistake. This is months of mistakes.” 

Olga shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. She is your sister, and she adores you. Both of you will get past this. You love each other too much not to.” 

Alexia sat with that for a moment. It was true. Even if she didn’t always act like it, even if she wasn’t the best at showing it. She loved you and Alba more than anything on earth. And she decided, then and there, that she wouldn’t ever stop trying to prove that to you. 

------

Crying must have tired you out, because when you woke the next day, before even opening your eyes, you could tell it was late. Well past when Alexia would normally wake you up for training. Momentarily, you wondered if she’d gone without you. If she was upset. But then you recognized the soft touch of Alexia’s hand on your back, gently moving back and forth; her preferred way of waking you up. Alexia cherished her sleep, and because she assumed everyone else did too, she was careful to wake you up in the least jarring way possible. 

You rolled over, clonking your head into her knee. Grumpily, you opened your eyes. Alexia was not in her training clothes. She was still in her pajamas, in fact, looking down at you nervously. You weren’t used to her being nervous to talk to you. 

“Hola.” She greeted. “I woke you up because you never sleep this late, but if you are still tired, you can go back to sleep. We have an appointment with Ana at 2, and I was hoping we could talk before that, but we don’t have to. We can just-”

You cut off her rambling with a shake of your head, dragging your body into a sitting position. Your head was pounding, probably a combination of all the cry and dehydration. 

“No, I’m okay. I’m up. We can talk. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” 

“Okay!” Alexia said much too quickly. She ruffled your hair awkwardly before turning and heading downstairs, looking back at you slumped in your bed at least 3 times. 

When you appeared downstairs 5 minutes later, having made yourself look somewhat presentable, Alexia was sitting on the couch, anxiously bouncing her knee as she waited for you. She had her phone in her hand, and she was rapidly texting someone. Alba or Olga, you guessed. You carefully sat down on the couch a safe distance away from her, now feeling a bit nervous yourself. 

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say. If being honest would make things better or worse. If things could really even get any worse. 

“You wanted to talk.” You said after a minute, finally venturing a quick glance at your sister, who was looking expectantly at you. 

“I want you to talk. And I want to listen.” Alexia said gently. 

You thought for a moment, before shrugging. “What do you want me to talk about?”

The blonde took a deep breath. “Do you want to quit football?” She asked quietly, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice, no matter how hard she tried. She loved playing with you. It was her favorite thing. 

You read her disappointment wrong, though, thinking she was disappointed in you, and you became slightly defensive, and slightly more tense. “Sometimes.” 

Alexia fought the urge to respond to your hostility with her own. Instead, she kept her face soft and open. “Why do you want to quit? And why do you not want to quit?” 

You shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. Avoiding Ale’s gaze, you replied as honestly as you could. “I think I still love it, deep down. It just feels like it’s suffocating me right now. Draining all of my energy and all of my happiness. It’s really hard, Ale. I don’t know how to fix that.” 

Nodding slowly, the blonde tried not to react to your words outwardly. “Can you tell me what is so hard? I have played for many years, nena, and I do not think I have ever struggled as much as you are struggling now. I don’t understand, but I want to.” 

She was being sincere, you could tell. She genuinely did not understand what the issue was. It had never felt this difficult for her, not in this all consuming way. You wanted your sister to understand, but you didn’t want to hurt her. Explaining ran the risk of upsetting her, yet you knew you had no choice. 

“You have played for many years, yes. But you have never played as Alexia Putellas’ younger sister. You have never played in the shadow of the greatest in the world, of your sister.”

Alexia inhaled sharply. “I make it hard? Being my sister makes it hard?” She asked, voice almost a whisper as she tried to fight back tears. This was her fault. 

You nodded miserably. “I can’t go a day without being compared to you. Your talent, your leadership skills, everything. I feel like nothing I do is ever good enough… for you or for anyone else. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will never be you, Ale. And that is what everyone wants me to be.” 

Your sister shook her head frantically, scooching closer. “That’s not what I want, nena. You are one of my favorite people in the world. I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be you.” 

“But I’m not good enough, Ale. Not for anyone. Being me isn’t good enough.” You cried, pulling your hand away from Alexia’s. You couldn’t even begin to consider that she was telling the truth. 

“Yes it is, nena, and I am so sorry if I have made you feel like-” 

“If? Alexia you have spent the past 2 years of my life pressuring me to be better, telling me to try harder and to push more. And so has everyone else.” 

Your sister shook her head again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her, even as you tried to pull away. “I am so sorry, nena. So sorry. I thought you wanted it, as much as I wanted it for you.” 

“I did want it.” You mumbled. “But I wanted you to just be my sister more.” 

Alexia felt her heart shatter, but she fought against the tears welling in her eyes. “I am so sorry.” She repeated, shutting her eyes tightly as she rubbed your back. “ I… If you want to quit, I will support you. I won’t be disappointed in you, I will always support you. No matter what you do or don’t do, I will always be your sister. And you will always have me.” 

“No, Ale, I don’t know that I want to quit, I just… I can’t do it anymore. Not like this. It’s too hard.” You sobbed, hiding your face in your sister’s shirt. 

“Okay. Okay, cariño. We’ll figure it out, alright? We’ll figure it all out.” Alexia promised. 

You hoped she was right. 

--------

Therapy later that day was… alright. You broke down again, detailing your near constant anxiety and stress, and admitting to Ana that you’d bought adderall. You don’t quite remember what you said, honestly. It was a blur. You remembered crying, remembered holding Alexia’s hand. Explaining to her that you were so obsessed with school because you wanted to have something if football didn’t work. You never wanted to disappoint your family, Alexia most of all. Alexia had cried too. You remembered what she said clearly, and even now, three weeks later, you thought of her words.  

“Hermanita, I don’t care if you are a footballer. I don’t care if you get a degree or get an impressive job. I don’t care what you do, as long as you are happy and healthy and okay. That is all that matters to me. And that is all that matters to Mami and Alba, too. I love you, nena. That is not conditional or dependent on anything.” 

And she had proven that. She had been patient, kind, and thoughtful. Supportive. Even when you took three weeks off of football and school to get your anxiety under control. She was there through every sleepless night and every tear. Alexia was the reason you got through it, and she was the reason you made the decision you did. 

-------

You’d waited a bit to tell her. You were always going to finish the season out with Barça, but it remained to be seen whether or not you’d continue after the season ended. Alexia had prepared herself for you not to continue. For you to tell her that this was it. She’d made her peace with that. She was wholly surprised, then, when you sat her down two nights before you were set to go back to training and told her your plans. 

“I’m dropping out of school.” You said carefully, watching her reaction. She looked stunned. 

“But I thought… you don’t have to do that for me, nena. I just want you to be happy.” 

The thing was, you believed her. And that was why you wanted to play again. 

“I know you do, Ale. I’m doing this for me. I love football. I’ve missed it these past few weeks, much more than I missed school. I didn’t really care about school, I just wanted to have something. If I couldn’t make you proud of me with football, I thought I could do it through school.” 

“I am proud of you. So proud of you, because of football and completely separate from it.” Alexia insisted. 

You nodded. “I know you are, and that’s why I want to play again. It doesn’t feel the same as before, like your love for me is riding on how well I perform. That wasn’t ever the case, and I know that now. You’ve made it really clear, Ale.” 

“But your anxiety,”

“I was having a hard time because I was trying to do school full time and football. I’m already so much less stressed. The pressure feels less intense. It feels like football can be fun again.”

“You are sure about this?” Alexia asked, gripping tightly onto your hand. She didn't want a repeat of three weeks ago. And she didn’t want you to be unhappy. 

“I promise, I’m sure. I want to play. And if that changes… I’ll tell you. I know I can trust you. I should have known that all along, and I didn’t, but I do now.” 

“You can always trust me.” Alexia affirmed. “You are sure? You want to play?” She checked again, looking intently at your face, trying to tell if you were lying to make her happy. 

“I want to play.” You promised. 

Her neutral face transformed into a huge grin and she all but suffocated you in a bear hug. 

“I love you so much, hermanita. And I would have understood if you wanted to quit, but I love playing with you and I am so, so happy.” She told you, rather vulnerably. “I’m going to be better. I am going to make sure no one puts too much pressure on you, especially me. I won’t mess up again, nena, I promise. I won’t ever let you think that I care more about football than about you.” 

You buried your face in her shoulder, sniffling slightly. “I love you too.” 

It wasn’t just about missing football. It was about knowing, really really knowing, that your performance wouldn’t change how your sister looked at you, or how your teammates looked at you. You’d spent the last three weeks learning from Ana to see yourself as a person separate from your abilities on the pitch. You were good and worthy of love no matter how you played. And with that weight off your shoulders, you knew you wouldn’t care as much about being in Alexia’s shadow. You could just be proud of her. And be proud of yourself. You hadn’t needed school the way you thought you did, and you hadn’t needed to quit football. You had just needed to be honest with your sister, and be a bit kinder to yourself. 

The following season, you would play better than you ever had. You found your place on the pitch and within the team, and you set yourself aside as your own person. Even if you were known as a great footballer, you would still always be known as Alexia’s sister. And you didn’t want to change that, because it was your favorite thing to be. 

--------

hope you enjoyed! ❤️ leave a comment if you want, they make me v happy! :)

[gnomewithalaptop]

Y'know, it's so funny to me when people make out like Tim Drake would keep files on how to take down his friends when Tim has explicitly said he disagrees with Batman on this:

[Young Justice (1998) #36]

Like, yes, during his Red Robin tenure he does make a Hit List full of contingency plans for known heroes. But if you go and read that, you'll notice that, while the Justice League and Damian may be on there, Tim's own friends are decidedly absent:

[Red Robin (2009) #14]

In fact, a lot of these heroes are people that have either (a) attacked Tim specifically, (b) have a track record that includes turning evil/getting mind controlled, or (c) are on the JLA (meaning Batman probably already had those files compiled and Tim just stole them).

So yeah: Tim's not down with contingency-planning for his friends. You know which one of the YJ crew DID agree with Batman though? My favorite blorbina Anita Fite, aka Empress:

[Young Justice (1998) #36]

But yeah, this contrast is honestly fascinating to me. Because while both Anita and Tim have been shown to be incredibly loyal individuals, this exchange really highlights the fact that, between the two of them, Anita is far more likely to engage in this kind of pragmatism when she thinks it's necessary to get the job done

The whole Our Worlds at War arc actually does a really good job of illustrating how both of them react to betrayal from within. It's not just the Batman Files conflict either -- I'm thinking specifically about the hallucination-based torture Granny Goodness put them through, which showed them their worst fears. Most of the team ended up having to watch their loved ones die, but what's super interesting to me is that we really only see Anita and Tim hallucinate that their loved ones blame them for their deaths:

[Young Justice (1998) #37]

Like. It's not the same as a teammate turning evil at all. But it does give us a good idea of how they'd both react when faced with a friend or teammate doing harmful things, albeit on a smaller scale. Because where Tim kind of just accepts Superboy yelling at him and moves straight into bargaining for Kon's life, Anita actually flips the script, gets angry, and defends herself against her father:

[Young Justice (1998) #37]

(she actually gets so righteously pissed off that she manages to break out of the VR simulation Granny Goodness had her trapped in, but that's another point)

But yeah, it's super interesting, because by this point, both Anita and Tim have been set up to be very similar characters. They both can be a little bit obsessive, they both have some issues with boundaries and stalking (Tim with Nightwing and Batman, Anita with Cissie), and of the team, they're both portrayed as the "normal" members (Anita does technically have mind control powers but she barely ever uses them, and in a fight, she's basically just a very good, human-level fighter)

But at the end of the day, though Batman forces Robin to put on a cool front of objectivity, Tim (at least in his pre-grief-spiral era) ultimately wants to see the best in his team. When the people he cares about screw up, he wants to give them second chances. And when that trust gets broken, his first instinct is to try to use diplomacy, or, failing that, simply remove himself from the situation (as we see at the end of the Our Worlds at War arc when he quits the team)

Anita, on the other hand, while still incredibly loyal, does not hand out that loyalty unconditionally. We see this when she tries to keep her identity secret from the YJ squad, we see it when she gets pissed in Granny Goodness's hallucination when her father blames her for her mother's death, and we see it when she later blames Secret for her perceived role in Anita's father's death

Anita also happens to sit right smack dab in the middle of the YJ morality scale; while she's generally pretty chill and willing to abide by typical superhero codes of ethics (unlike Slobo and Secret), she's also been shown to bend those rules when she believes it's necessary (as seen here when she tortures and threatens to kill a man for trying to hurt Cissie). Ultimately, what this means is, between Tim and Anita, it's honestly Anita who'd probably be the most willing to put her personal qualms aside, buckle down, and go against her loved ones if it was the only reasonable option

Anyway. This is a really long-winded way of saying I think Gun Batman's biggest nemesis should be Empress

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 6: Come As You Are

Word count: 8k+

Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

---------

A call from Kim Minju at this hour is never good news. 

To give context: It’s one in the morning on a Saturday. Office workers and the youth above the legal age for drinking are patronising drinking spots, throwing back a couple of beers and basking in the euphoria that alcohol brings them. Perhaps they're using alcohol to cope with the stress of their lives, or maybe they're trying to numb the pain of recent difficult experiences. In both cases, emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through their systems, memories are resurfacing, and maybe, just maybe, tears are streaming down their cheeks—nothing too out of the ordinary. If you were to receive a call from anyone else at this hour, you would've thought it a request to be escorted back home, or a soused friend dialling in to say incomprehensible things before truncating the call.

But for more context: Kim Minju has been the bearer of bad news since highschool. If you are to combine this with the information above, you know that something has probably gone down, and you’re the only man she can trust to help them. She never calls you on a whim; every call from her is a desperate cry for help. 

As you stare at her caller ID on your phone that vibrates on the table like it’s possessed, you start steeling yourself for what is to come. You’re hesitant to answer, but basic human decency gets the better of you. You can hear the deafening roar of club music in the background when you pick up, and Minju’s yelling into the phone. Even in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t make heads or tails of what she’s trying to convey to you. Even as you holler I can’t hear you at the top of your lungs, she continues to blabber her intelligible words over the pulsing bass of that horrible song that’s playing in the background.

Then it suddenly gets quiet on the other end, and for a moment, you only hear the sound of your heartbeat crunching in your ears. When Minju speaks again, you can hear the wind blowing by in the background, your indication that she’s exited the club. Her voice rings loud and clear in your apartment. 

“Eunbi’s driving to your place, she’ll explain everything,” she’s telling you. “She’ll text when she arrives, get ready to be picked up.”

The urgency in her voice drives you to acquiescence, and you throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. Couple of minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of your singer’s car. She’s running you down on the events that have occurred tonight, and the multiple mentions of Chaewon makes your heart sink further and further. 

It was enough dealing with her in the band. That shrill frequency she could produce with that trumpet was often aptly used to deafen you whenever she could (she sat on your direct right so she could be a bitch with ease). The bowl she used to collect her saliva was often “accidentally” (the way she said that word with such bogus innocence really brought you to your boiling point sometimes) spilt on to the leg of your jeans when you walked by, her trumpet case “coincidentally” (again, bogus innocence with this one) be in the way of your shin as you tried to get to your kit. Her behaviour wasn’t the culprit behind your irritance towards her, rather the fact that her behaviour failed to reflect what she had requested for when the two of you schismed—a clean break.

“She’s thrown up twice now.” Eunbi’s tone is a mish-mash of frustration and commiseration, “She refuses to move, and she's been groped twice. We don’t mean to drag you into this, but you’re the last feasible option.”

There’s an odd feeling of nihility in your chest as the two of you come to a stop at a red light. In the band, you dealt with her on a physical level. But when Kim Chaewon and alcohol merge, you know that you’ll have to deal with her on an emotional level, and that somehow fails to engender any spite or frustration of the ilk. The silence that hangs in the car is unsettling in light of the confusing sensations you’re experiencing (and also due to the fact that usually chatty Eunbi is finding it hard to start a conversation in this atmosphere), yet you find that you’re poised. 

“I’m uh… I’m actually your highschool senior,” Eunbi decides to input, “I used to go to the same school as you, Chaewon and Minju…”

You remain reticent. Eunbi takes the cue and returns her eyes to the road. 

The bouncer almost didn’t let you in because of your shabby fit, but a quick wink and a, he’s with me, from Eunbi was enough to get him to let you through. You easily spot Minju amidst club-goers once you get in.  Those long, luscious jet black locks that flow just past her shoulders and those large round eyes that always seem to be doleful quickly catch your attention as you wade through the sea of people together with Eunbi. She looks the same as she did all those years ago. She stands when you approach; Kim Chaewon’s slumped over the table they’re at. 

“Thank god you’re here.” Her expression tells you that she’s been through quite the ordeal tonight. “I… I hope you understand that—”

She stops mid sentence when you hold up a hand. You understand that such a gesture is impertinent of you, but you can’t help it—there’s too much to process, too much to take in, and a club isn’t the best place to assimilate it all (or to find a lover, an ex lover in this case). Minju steps aside, and you take a moment to look at the sorry sight of your ex—face down on the table of the booth seat and an empty shot glass in hand. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask them. The two girls look at each other, then Minju tells you to do whatever it takes to get her out of here. 

So there you are—contemplating on whether you should dump a bucket of ice on her or gently wake her up. Basic human decency gets the better of you, and you slide onto the couch next to Chaewon, gently tap the bare shoulder that’s exposed in her outfit. When she raises her head off the sticky, glossy table, you’re momentarily reminded of the countless times you’d woken her up in the same way when she fell asleep in the school library.

Then those eyes—half-lidded and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. The volume of her voice pales in comparison to the blaring House remix of the Barbie theme, yet when she calls your name, it’s the only thing you can hear. She shifts closer—close enough to rest her head on your shoulder, close enough for you to smell the vodka on her breath as she silently sobs against you; Don’t go, don’t leave, she slots in between those heart wrenching cries. Right now: emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through her system, memories are resurfacing, and tears are definitely streaming down their cheeks. 

Eunbi and Minju look on in silence. Eunbi’s lips are pursed, Minju’s eyes are somehow more doleful. Their looks are doing nothing to assuage the turmoil that you’re feeling. You find yourself saying things that you were never prepared to say. 

“She can stay at my place for the night… I doubt she’d want to go anywhere else.”

They look apprehensive, but deep down—they know you’re right.

***

“Uh… Are you sure you want to present this?” 

Chaewon looks up from her presentation script to give a simple, “Hm?”. You were scratching your head as you read over the vivid description of Kurt Cobain's death that she’d included. It detailed the nature of his death, the brutal imagery of small, tiny shotgun pellets blowing a hole through the skull of Nirvana’s frontman on the night of his suicide described in an unnaturally calm tone, as if people shooting themselves through the head with a shotgun was an everday occurance. 

“I mean…” You were doing your best to not sound reprehensive, “I don’t think Miss Kim would appreciate the… Visceral imagery.”

Her look was one of innocence as she asked, why not, and proceeded to further justify her vivid depiction (her argument was that Lee Chaeyeon had presented on Aviccii’s death in equal vividness and your teacher enjoyed it). The theme of the presentations for the week was “the talented die young”, and she’d decided to talk about one of her favourite bands at the time. She was blasting their hit song Smells Like Teen Spirit through the speaker in her room, and you were finding it hard to focus over all that grunge (you didn’t tell her of course, cause that would’ve made her pouty for the rest of the day).

That was one of your fondest memories from dating her. It showed you her tenacity and her stubbornness in insisting that she was correct. It showed you just how determined and strong-willed she could be. You found that you could still recall every detail of that moment as vividly as she described Cobain's death while you watched her walk around your kitchen from the doorway to your room. Her hair is in disarray, the set of clothes that you’d passed her baggy on her slender frame. For the record: She knows how she got here, she knows where she is, she knows you’re awake, and she knows that you’re watching her. In spite of all this, her movements are calm, her hand taking its time to trail across your cabinets as her eyes slowly soak in her surroundings. 

“You know, for someone that said that they wanted a clean break—you’re making things messier than they should be,” you can’t help but tell her. Her hand stops on the handle of your cabinet, her index finger affixing itself there for a minute as she lowers her head. With a sigh, you stuff your hands into your pockets and tell her, “Get out once your hangover wears off.”

You retreat back into your room to get some work done. When you emerge around lunchtime, you find that she’s taken liberties in your kitchen, a piping hot bowl of noodles sitting opposite her at your dining table as she silently slurps on a bowl of her own. You stand there for a moment, then you accost the eating space and stop just before her. 

“Are you being for real?” You can’t help but let the revulsion seep into your words, “You’re telling me that your hangover has lasted this long?”

She’s unwontedly silent. Her pugnacious, bratty nature seems to have dissipated into thin air, replaced by one of taciturn and timidness as she stares blankly into her noodles. She doesn’t look up when you sigh and slide into the other seat, nor does she say anything when you start digging into the noodles that she’s prepared for you (you aren’t one to pass up on a free meal, even if it’s prepared by your ex). 

It’s when you're halfway through your bowl that she finally pipes up, “thank you for taking me in.”

You go still for a moment. 

Then you choose not to reply to her. 

After washing up, you communicate to her that she has till sundown to leave your abode before you head back to your room. You know that she’s going to stay like that stubborn patch of mould beneath the snare drum in the recording studio when you hear her playing Smells Like Teen Spirit on her phone through the door. Once again, that damn song is reminding you of how tenacious and stubborn she can be. Those two traits of hers were really double edged swords for that woman.

Night comes; she still hasn’t left. When you exit your room, you find that she’s asleep on the floor. It seems that she’s found it congenial to sleep on the carpeted surface, even though the futon that you provided her last night is literally an arms length away from her sleeping body. Seeing her that way, you’re momentarily reminded of the times she’d stay over at your place while you were dating, and she’d choose to nap on the floor while you worked—even though the bed was empty. The reasons as to why she chose to do so are still unknown to this day—one of the many unsolved mysteries in your relationship, second only to why she’s being the way she is despite what the two of you have previously agreed on.

To be absolutely clear: the two of you know why you broke up. It wasn’t a case of a one-sided sudden change of heart; there was a reason behind it that you both understood (even though you did need a lot of time to come to terms with it). Yes, it was painful. Yes, it was unexpected. Yes, you did miss her for quite some time. But there wasn’t much you could do about it. She’d set her mind on the breakup, and her stubbornness and tenacity had her on wits end when you tried to talk to her. 

Was there a possibility the two of you could’ve stayed together? Your answer—yes. Her’s—only God knows what goes through that confusing brain.

Once more, basic human decency drives you to do things you don’t want to, and you end up cooking a share of fried rice for her. You lay her bowl next to her on the floor along with a spoon before seating yourself at the dining table to eat. You’re about halfway through a video essay about some game you’ll never play when she stirs from her slumber. 

She spots the bowl, then her gaze wanders to you. Silently, she picks it up and rises to her feet. Now it’s her turn to accost the eating space, except she isn’t belligerent, nor can you sense any hostile intentions.

“Can I sit?” She’s oddly genteel as she points at the chair opposite you. You’ll just end up sitting even if I say no, is your reply. She allows a soft, short chuckle before she slides in. You think about turning off the video essay, but then you decide to not let basic human decency get the better of you this once. 

So with some random guy’s voice filling the air, you and Chaewon partake in your meals in silence. You try not to look at her, but you can’t help but throw a few glances her way as she eats. She decided to grow out her hair over the past few weeks, dye it auburn, and now it drapes elegantly past her shoulders like silky curtains. You can’t read her expression (though you never could to begin with), and you certainly can’t understand why she’s become so quiet. She’s trying to make you lower your guard, soften you up then launch some manipulation tactic is what you’re considering. You won’t put it past her to use a facade of milquetoast nature to try and break past your boundaries. 

“I’ll be out by tomorrow morning,” she suddenly tells you. That was the first time you tore your gaze away from your phone for more than five seconds. How would one normally reply to such a statement? Oh, okay, seems to be one of the better options, yet you choose to go with, “Good, cause I’m not planning to overstay your welcome.”

Chaewon plucks a rice grain off her top lip. “But you’d let Eunbi or Ryujin stay, right?”

There you were, hoping that she’d be as timid and quiet as she’d been for the rest of the day. The nap must have gotten rid of the rest of the hangover, cause you can hear the haughtiness in her voice. 

“Are we really going to have this conversation?” you ask her. The firm look she fixes you with tells you, I’m gonna run my mouth on you whether you like it or not. 

“And here I was thinking you’re being a decent human for once,” you can’t help but mutter. “You’re fucking confusing you know that?”

She bristles in her seat. “You watch your fucking mouth player.”

You’re not one to take offence from such comments. Normally, you’d understand that in the heat of the moment, people can say hurtful things that they don’t mean. It’s natural, completely natural—the adrenaline, the emotions, the tension… All of it can melt together in the form of nasty words that spew forth from a person’s mouth. 

But when it comes from Kim Chaewon’s mouth however… You can’t seem to find that sympathy in you. She knows that you’ve slept with your singer and bassist, she knows that they’ve had you more than once—it’s right for her to feel this type of anger (even though the two of you aren’t even together anymore), yet there’s no part of you—not even a single atom—that wants to take the time to try to understand where she’s coming from and why she feels this way.

“Player?” You don’t mean to sound as pissed as you do. “Player?” you echo again, just for good measure, “What gives you the right to call me that? I’m not the one who couldn’t wait for their partner!”

“It was two years!” Chaewon cries.

“Well you could’ve at least tried.” You’re not even bothering to filter your words now. “You’re a hypocrite for calling me a player when you couldn’t even wait for me.”

“Two fucking years! Do you really expect me to close my heart to love for two whole years just so I can wait for you to get out of the damn military!” The way her tone conveys how right she thinks she is pisses you off, “I’m a human! I need love! Do you really expect me to wait for it for that long?”

She’s on her feet now, hands on your table, breaths heavy. 

She screams, “It’s your fault for signing on so early! It’s your fault for ever thinking that I’d wait!” 

You shoot up from your seat and cry, “Well then damn me for ever trying to believe in you!”

Her face contorts into a snarl. She skirts the table, accosts you with her arm whizzing through the air; she slaps you across the face. As the sting lingers on your cheek, you find your fingers curling into fists. 

“You’re horrible!” She’s hollering at the top of her lungs, “I wish that I never met you!”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of her heavy breathing. Then those eyes—bulging in their sockets and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. She looks just as she did the night the two of you broke up: hair slightly messy, face twisted in a mix of woe and fury, right up in your face as her face starts to flush under the intense assault of emotions and thoughts. She’s close—close enough to grip you by your collar and pull you towards her, crush her lips against yours, kiss you like she did when you were teens. 

And she does just that.

A soft cry slips past her lips, travels into your mouth as she kisses you; It feels exactly the same as it did all those years ago—the meraki, the slight tension in her upper lip, the light quiver in your bottom lip—a familiar comfort you had no idea you missed. Her small waist is captured in your grasp, your face in her hands as she pulls you deeper, kisses you harder. It was like she never left, like she never walked away from you because you had decided to enlist in compulsory military service early so that you could get it over and done with, like she never said, seeing you on the weekends isn't enough for me, I’m sorry. This won’t work out the way you think it will. Let’s just end things off here, nice and clean.

And get this: the whole moment is sweet and all, but deep down, there’s still a small flame of anger alit within you. Even though you kissed her back with equal vigour, you were silently cursing her for making things messier than it had to be; while your hands run through her hair, you find yourself berating her in your head for making you vacillate between missing her and hating her. You aren’t one to be flippant, but Chaewon had the tendency to bring out sides of you that you’ve never seen for yourself. 

Her tongue dives into your mouth, her hand pressed flat against your chest. She’s tugging at the fabric of your shirt, and you’re not sure if she’s trying to pull you closer or signalling for you to take it off. You realise it’s the latter when she guides you hand beneath the fabric of the shirt you gave her, your fingertips grazing the soft skin beneath it. Your palm rests on the flesh of her waist. Her skin was warm to the touch. 

Your mouths part, and you’re quick to ask, What the hell are we doing. She takes a second to catch her breath, then she replies, “I have no clue, but I’m not stopping whatever’s coming next.”

Going with the flow—that was so her. 

You grasp onto the hem of her shirt and gently pull upwards. She’s quick to respond, raising her hands above her head for ease of removal. Then her hands are on your waist band, tugging down at your shorts while your hands skim across her bare skin. She pulls your underwear down together with your shorts, lets them fall and pool around your ankles; her hand is quick to grasp onto your throbbing shaft. 

“Chae.” You can’t help but whisper your pet name for her. She starts placing kisses on your clothed chest, her other hand resting on your shoulder while the hand on your cock begins to stroke it with consideration. She leans in and whispers, “Can we pretend like we never left each other? Just for tonight?”

A foolhardy request. She doesn’t know what she’s doing by asking this of you, nor does she care to consider the possibility that the fulfilment of this request can and will invoke unwelcome emotions in both of you. Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

Her hand on your dick leaves to join and assist the other in undoing her bra. She lets the intimate garment fall to the floor before her, her bare breasts on full display. She’s certainly grown more voluptuous as compared to her eighteen-year-old self, and with that change you find an increase in desire for this woman before you. Chaewon cups her tits with her hands, lifts them up, then lets go; she’s putting on a sordid show. 

“Christ.” Christians certainly wouldn’t approve your usage of the name of their saviour in this abhorrent, impure context. “You’ve… Grown.”

“Puberty works wonders, no?” She’s taken on a playful tone, one that she was always fond of using while the two of you were dating. “Feel them. I know you want to.”

No sane man would ever turn down such an invitation. You can feel her erect peaks poking against your palms as your fingers close around the mounds; your breath hitches when you realise how firm they’ve become. Her hands join yours on her breasts, aiding you and squeezing and kneading while she lets a sigh leave her lips. Then in a whisper, she tells you how much she’s missed this feeling—your hands caressing her just the way she likes, your breath in her ears as you silently play with her like you used to.

Then she asks you, “Do you ever think about me when you fuck those other girls?”

You consider your words carefully. If you’re to be perfectly honest, there were a few times where the sight of Ryujin’s rippling ass cheeks made you think about her; sometimes the way Eunbi moaned reminded you of her. 

But if you’re supposed to pretend like you never left her, some teasing would have to come into play. 

“Depends.” You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are, “In what way are we talking?”

She gives you a look, one that says, you cheeky little fucker, but she plays along of course, offering a soft, Hm, as she pretends to go pensive.

Let’s see—she speaks as she (much to your chagrin) practically rips your hands off her body, all so that she can start circling you—Do their moans sound as cute as mine? Are their bodies as tight as mine? 

She leans in to pop the final question: Do their pussies feel as good as mine?

For the record: No to the first one, a fifty-fifty between yes and no on the second one (they all had amazing bodies). As for the last question, you couldn’t say (not because you didn’t have an answer, but more because ranking them in terms of how good they feel would be doing all of them an injustice).

Dunno, is the answer you offer her, then you follow up with, “Why don’t we find out?”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Segueing—impressive.” 

“I’m a laconic man,” you tell her, and, Oh shut the hell up, is her reply as she takes you by the hand and drags you to your room. 

It’s crazy to think that just mere minutes ago, she was on her feet, yelling at you and telling you how odious she finds you; now, she’s on her back, her head propped up against a pillow, still yelling, but she’s telling how good you’re making her feel—Fuck, and, Oh shit is all that’s really leaving her mouth, but the message is implicit—as your tongue applies painfully slow strokes to her soaking pink folds. The hand that slapped you is now scrunching up in your hair, the palm that made your cheek sting pushing your head against her crotch while her toes curl into your mattress. You’re wondering if she’s intentionally pitching up her voice as she moans, or if she’s purposely dragging out her sighs, but it doesn’t take away from the utter sublimity of the act. 

Chaewon’s slick is sweet; it’s tangier than Eunbi’s and tickles your taste buds better than Ryujin’s—you won’t tell her this of course, but it’s not like you’ll have time to communicate all of this while your head being shoved into her pussy. Believe it or not—this is one of the calmer moments of pussy-eating that you’ve experienced, one of the rare occasions where you actually have time to savour the taste of your partner, assimilate the intimacy of it, a far cry from when you were with Eunbi or Ryujin, where the goal was always to make them cum as fast as possible because that’s what they’re craving for. But believe it or not—even though her needy actions make it seem as if she’s desperately chasing her high, Chaewon’s really just trying to make the most of each and every swipe of your tongue, enjoying the way it skirts her clit and laps up her juices that leak out from her pretty, pink folds; all while she’s squeezing her thighs around your ears and begging you, Oh god, put your fingers in me. 

You start with your index finger, using the pad of it to trace the outline of her pussy. Then—just to make sure that she knows that it’s going in too—you let your middle finger join the fray. Your digits graze the skin around her flushed lips, taking their time to cover ground while Chaewon’s reduced to a moaning, mewling mess. What you’re really trying to do here is test the limits of her patience, see how much teasing that small, tight body can really take before her will breaks. It’s a sadistic game you’re playing, but you know that she’s enjoying it as much as you are, even though she is practically screaming at you to stick your digits inside her already.

If there’s anything that this world has taught you, it’s that patience is often rewarding. In this case: Chaewon’s patience was rewarded with the fulfilment of her request. The moan that leaves her half-parted lips is one of satisfaction as you dig your digits into her waiting depths, and they soak in her juices for a minute or two before they start to explore. Her nails dig into your scalp when your fingers dig into the soft flesh on the roof of her pussy. Your name flies out from her lips in a tone of surprise, like she’s taken aback by the fact you remember the exact spot inside her that makes her tick. The smugness on your face says it all, really, and you start to stimulate that spot of sensitive flesh. 

“Oh… Oh my… Oh…” She’s barely able to form the simplest of words. The pleasure you’re providing is racing through her body, filling her from head to toe with perverse need and taking over her bodily functions. You’re not doing anything fancy down there; your fingers are just wiggling against the same spot—a simple action that makes her body react in all sorts of complicated ways: twisting, trembling, twitching… It’s working wonders really. You’re amazed that she’s still as sensitive as ever. 

“Look at you Chae,” you can’t help but deride. “You’re getting so fucking turned by fingers. I don’t remember you being this needy.”

Even if she’s hellbent on retorting, there’s no space for words to leave her mouth—the moans are filling the space in her throat, bottlenecking and filtering out of her mouth in the form of strained cries. From the limited view between her thighs, you make out the image of her biting down on the nail of her index finger. Meanwhile, the nails in your head dig deeper into your scalp, hardly caring for the fact that they may be drawing blood as their owner manages to beg, Keep going. 

Your mouth—now rested enough to continue—rejoins the busy scene; the drawn-out guttural gasp that slides out of her mouth tells you all you need to know—Oh my god. You’re driving me crazy—and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her pleasure stricken face. Chaewon’s barely keeping it together at this point, the dignity that tightly wraps her body is slowly loosening—unravelling at the mercy of your mouth and fingers. The haughtiness, the sheer brattiness—crumbling under the sensations that overwhelm every fibre of her body; now that these perverse thoughts have entered your mind, you find that a dark part of you longs to own her, right here, right now. But of course, patience is rewarding. 

You’re willing to wait.

To say that you’re taking your time to eat her out would be inaccurate. If you’re to be honest, it’s difficult to describe the pace you’re using. Inside of her, your index and middle finger move frenetically, as if you are using them to press the same key on a piano repeatedly to produce the same note—her moans. Outside her, your tongue’s movements are almost sluggish, the broad base of it dragging up her flushed lips before the tip flicks the swollen nub at the top. You’re fully invested, scrupulously ensuring the uniformity of your movements to drive Chaewon to perdition. The movements are neither simple nor complex, rather a middle ground between the two (but you do feel that it leans more towards the former), but it’s enough to drive her crazy. Even if she’s a complicated mess to deal with, deep down—she still enjoys some form of simplicity. 

“Baby.” The way Chaewon’s calling you sends a shiver down your spine, stirring the emotions in your chest and letting some nostalgia bubble up from the depths of it, “I-I’m… I’m…”

Cumming, you complete just as her head violently whips back into the pillow. Then, in arguably the hottest ways possible, Kim Chaewon orgasms. Her thighs clamp around your head, becoming earmuffs as an onslaught of juices assail your mouth. You can hear her mewling past the flesh that surrounds your ears, and the muffled sound is enough to deluge your heart with depraved satisfaction while her body twitches, convulses and strains violently. The last vestiges of dignity that once enveloped her have fallen away, carried off by the sighs and cries escaping from her trembling lips, and as you lift your mouth of her soaking slit and withdraw your juice-slicked fingers, you know that she’s reached a point of no return. 

Patience is truly so rewarding.

“Jesus…” she pants. Once again, believers probably wouldn’t approve of the usage of his name in this context, but something has to cleanse the filth from her body, “When did you get so good at this?”

“Always have been,” you grin. You can tell she wants to roll her eyes, but she hardly has the strength to do so. For a tender moment, you gaze into each other’s eyes and appreciate this moment of inexplicable intimacy, re-living the emotions that were once so present between the two of you. It’s just for tonight. After this, we’ll go back to fighting, you’re telling yourself, and it makes you want to stay like this for a little longer.

But when Chaewon flips herself over onto her belly, the warmth in your chest is shut out and replaced by warped desire. With the tender cheeks of her ass on full display, Chaewon wiggles her behind, inviting you to take your liberties with her body. You take a moment to admire how full they’ve become. 

“Been working on it?” you ask her as you squeeze a handful of flesh. 

“To the best of my ability,” is her reply, followed by, “you like it?”

Your reply is to deliver a soft spank to the right ass-cheek. She barely even yelps upon contact, a small grin on her face as she watches you spread the flesh apart to reveal her entrances. Then she urges you, “Come on now… Pick a hole, fuck it till you fill it with your cum.”

“What if I want both?” You can’t help but be a little cheeky. Chaewon’s bottom lip furls behind her front teeth. 

“I’m not stopping you,” she whispers, “just promise me to cum in me.”

Not a trace of dignity in her words. 

Alright, is what you tell her before your head slips inside of her pussy. You can pinpoint the exact moment where her body almost becomes the only thing to exist in your mind—it’s when those walls clamp down around your shaft, pulsing ever so slightly and still twitching from her orgasm, and it’s enough to make you clench all your muscles while you hilt yourself in her. The sigh you let out hardly synchronises with Chaewon’s gasp. Yet, you find that your thoughts are perfectly in sync as your hands grip onto her small waist, and she props herself up on her elbows and knees. Her hair falls off her back, cascading down her shoulders as she turns her head, catches your gaze to tell you—Own this pussy.

No more words need be said. Eagerly, you begin to pump yourself in and out of Chaewon’s slick, tight pussy, her body tightening around your cock with every thrust in and out, lathering your length with juices that glisten in the low light of your room. The sound of her sighs and gasps quickly rise in volume, a beautiful backdrop to the sounds of your wet shaft penetrating her slick pussy again and again. 

You’ve already lost yourself in her from the moment you stuck your member into her, but you find your grasp on reality somehow slipping further and further with each thrust you make into that amazingly tight body. It’s the nostalgia—that feeling of being able to hold her again, the feeling of being able to fuck her like you did on those nights after you graduated high school, those nights where her parents weren’t home and she wanted you in ever way possible—that’s making you sink deeper and deeper into this new reality that is Kim Chaewon’s body. 

Then her moans start once more; you give in to the carnal emotions that you’ve been doing a really bad job at suppressing, and almost at once, Chaewon becomes the only thing that matters. Her flesh suddenly feels softer than before, her moans and sighs and cries sounding closer and closer to a melody than a haphazard arrangement of notes, and when she rasps for you to fuck her harder, you’re quick to oblige. 

Screw patience, you’re going to take what’s yours right here and now.

Your hands drift up from her waist, grip her shoulders and pull her till her body is almost upright. Your left hand slides down, wraps around her flat tummy; your right follows suit—you’re practically hugging her. Chaewon’s arms reach behind her, lock themselves around your neck and pull her face closer to yours. She doesn’t turn to kiss you—that’d take too much energy, energy that she would rather put into moaning—so you settle on capturing her earlobe between your lips, sucking on it softly while she starts to moan your name. Then, her confessions start. 

I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you… Oh god, I fucking missed the way your cock stretched me out. So good… So fucking good… This pussy was made for your cock.

Those were just some of the many things you managed to make out. The words were hastily assembled, phonics loosely strung together, and then expelled from those beautiful pink lips in a precipitate manner. There were other things like: I love you, I fucking love you and Oh God I love you as well, but your tried not to make to much of it. Even though you’re lost in paradise, lost in her body, your subconscious is still actively fighting to keep her influence out of your head. Things are already messy—both figuratively and literally—as they are, and the last thing you need is to fall in love with memories of Chaewon while you’re fucking her in such a callous, unrelenting manner. Sex and alexithymia towards an ex is never a good combination—yet here you are, rearranging the insides of Kim Chaewon after agreeing to whatever it was you agreed to before you started (it’s not because you chose to forget, but because you truly can’t remember anything past the point where you stepped through the doorway to your bedroom). 

You push away the thoughts (for now), letting them exit your body together with the growl that you release into her ear—Chaewon, why are you so fucking wet?—as your shaft continues to plunge itself between her slick, wet folds. The cheeks of her ass ripple deliciously with each strike of your crotch against hers, eliciting a raunchy exclamation from her body each time she hilts you to the base of your cock. You’re not going particularly fast—Chaewon suddenly has the capacity to reply, I’m always wet for you, baby—but you’re so utterly deep inside her that it’s driving the both of you to perverted elation. The position compromises your speed, but you know for a fact that Chaewon is more than happy to make the trade off, savouring the feel of every inch of you filling her insides at a considerate yet fervent pace. 

“Baby.” Her pet name for you is really doing dangerous things to your feelings, “Harder. Let me feel all of you, just like last time.”

She turns her head to meet your gaze, and it’s only then that you see the tears streaming down her cheeks. Your best guess: just like how nostalgia has its effect on you, it's impacting her too. Her emotions are being dallied with, just as yours are. She’s feeling things that she can’t describe, and she doesn’t know if it’s the rock-hard meat drilling in and out of her that’s making her feel this way, or if it's the fact that she may very well be falling for you again. You may never fully comprehend the intricate workings of human emotions, but as you lean in and gently draw her lips to yours, you hope to help her make sense of her feelings.

Why does she always make things messier than they have to be, your asking yourself, all while her hand finds your left cheek, gripping it tightly as your lips part and she whispers, “Fucking own me. Make this pussy yours, just like you used to.”

Just like last time, just like you used to—two statements that unwittingly conveyed that she’s dabbling in the past in a foolhardy manner. Damn it Chae… Why are you doing this? You’re thinking, even as you’re riotously making her bouncing breasts you handlebars, pinching her stiff peaks with between the gap of your middle and forefinger as you double down on her. You’re wondering, Why do you have to make this so damn complicated, as she leans back into you, and you mark the skin of her neck with your lips. Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Things wouldn’t have to be this way if you just had some damn patience, you’re pondering, all while she starts to throw herself back onto your cock. It’s hard to tell if she truly understands the emotional state she’s put herself in, you tell yourself. The irony of this statement is not lost on you, and you’re inwardly chortling at yourself as you pull yourself out of your own head.

You return to reality, and you find that Chaewon’s cumming once more. Did she announce its arrival? You don’t know. All you know is that her pussy is tightening rapidly around you, her body is shivering and shuddering against you, and her knees start giving out on her. You steady her against your chest, slowing yourself to a halt as you realise how dangerously close to the edge you are. 

When she taps you on the knee, you take it as a sign to gently lay her back down on the bed. With her belly flat against the mattress, Kim Chaewon reaches behind her and spreads her asscheeks with her fingers. She gives you the slightest of nods; you pull out of her freshly fucked pussy, point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass, and begin to press forward.

Chaewon gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first—but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Chaewon squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her. Her hands tighten into fists, scrunching up your bed sheets; a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you lean down to kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the bed, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving, Chaewon lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“You okay?” You’re checking on her out of genuine concern. It’s basic human decency, you’re trying to tell yourself, but you have a sinking feeling that she’s unknowingly broken past your defences. 

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to—”

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. I want this. I want you. I want you in my ass.”

The soft sigh you let out makes the hair atop her head flail a little as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. She isn’t crying anymore, but she certainly seems a little embarrassed that she let her emotions get the better of her. 

“Keep going.” She can’t seem to raise her head as she speaks, “Fill me, please…”

Basic human decency drives you to compliance, and so you press forward—all the while, your eyes are affixed to the back of her head, your left hand still grasping hers while she shifts around slightly, adjusting herself to take you in better. The small yelps she occasionally lets slip tells you that she’s in discomfort, but not enough to make you stop entering her asshole. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.

It felt like years, but soon you're fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Chaewon’s ass.

You slowly draw your shaft outside of Chaewon’s tightly gripping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Chaewon’s body wrapped around your cock. You’re glad that the sheer sublimity of the sensation is removing your ability to think, allowing you to steep yourself in the moment with a turmoil free mind.

Chaewon’s tightness is overwhelming to say the least. Her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. This would be the first time you’re entering her like this, and you aren’t sure if you’re doing it right, but soon she’s taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Chaewon lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt—one that takes her by surprise given the slight look of shock that you make out on her features. You reach down with your right hand, gingerly grip her chin and tilt her face up so you can get a better look at her face. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, locking to yours as you start pumping in and out of her asshole. After a while her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to hold yours, and she pulls it down her chin until it’s at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never made you do it before. Then again, you’ve never had her ass before either—there’s a first for everything.

You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you: succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane. The novelty of fucking Chaewon’s ass, your hand around her throat, the carnality, the surprising tenderness of the moment–it’s all so damn overwhelming.

“C-Chae,” you call out to her. Her gaze flickers from the wall to your eyes, and you whisper, “Do you… Do you really want me to—”

“Just fucking do it!” Chaewon gasps, barely attempting to filter the want out of her voice, “Choke me! Cum in me!”

With her permission, you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge at this point.

Chaewon’s hand—the one that stops your hand at her throat—tightens, as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her—you already feel guilty for causing her pain and discomfort (physically and emotionally). But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Chaewon’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

Do it… own me—her voice is straining—Make yours again. Choke me while you fuck my ass… Use me! Fill me… Fill my ass with your cum!

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Chaewon’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Chaewon’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you. As you cum, your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Chaewon’s throat turns into a gasp—the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever—longer than any other orgasm you’ve had. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Chaewon’s shaking body beneath you and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Chaewon’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass. Your eyes remain glued to Chaewon’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly, she turns on her side, her whole body heaving like she’s completed a marathon. Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flow down her naked skin. It's now that you remember what you agreed to before you started: Just for tonight…

“Hey…” Her voice has a lilt as she beckons you to her side. “Cuddle with me… Just for tonight.”

There she goes again.

Yeah, right... you sigh inwardly. The way she's looking at you tells you that the feelings brought forth tonight will persist as long as she permits. Maybe, just maybe, you should have turned her down, made her come as she was, and kept her at a distance; but she’s already snuggled up in your arms by the time you finish this train of thought. She kisses you on your jaw, then on your neck, then utters a soft good night baby before nuzzling herself into the crook of your neck.

Physically and emotionally, you've made a mess of her. And, in turn, she's made a mess of you too—physically and emotionally.

But you choose to forget that, just for tonight.

***

She slips out of your apartment at God knows what time, leaving like a thief in the night and leaving a note in her wake: I took one of your shirts. Will return it if I feel like it. 

Then below the message: P.S. Forget that last night happened. Go continue being a player. 

“I… Can’t believe this bitch.” You’re leaning against the door—the place where she’d stuck on the note—as you finish reading it. You decide to crumple it and toss it away—it’s the easiest thing to forget about her anyway. 

To be clear: You had no clue what your opinion on Chaewon was anymore, nor did you know what your status with her was (though the note suggests that she’s going to return to her usual bratty behaviour). Sometimes, you wish that there could be a bright digital sign perpetually hanging above her head, providing interpretations to her erratic behaviour. 

Yea… That would be great.

Just as you throw out her bowl of fried rice, there comes a knock on your door. You’re surprised to find Hwang Yeji standing there by herself. 

“O-Oh… Yeji,” you mutter. 

“That has to be the most asinine statement I’ve ever heard,” she derides. You purse your lips and scratch the back of your head, then you ask, “Do you uh… Need to borrow something?”

Yeji sighs and shakes her head. She’s quick to get to the point, “Are you free this afternoon?”

You nod, then she tells you, “I need you to follow me somewhere today. Meet me in the lobby at 3pm.”

She’s about to leave you with that vague request, but you’re quick to ask what this is about. It’s unwonted of her to suddenly request to meet you, and you’re painfully aware (or at least you thought you were) that she knows that this is unprecedented of her. Laconic and biting as ever, she turns back to you and tells you: I need you to help me talk to someone.

“W-Who?” You’re quick to ask. She turns her back to you as she answers.

“My junior. She wants to be our saxophonist.”

_________________________

What is popping gang. I did not get a chance to look through this thoroughly, nor was I able to get anyone to beta read for me :p. Hope you didn't have your bars raised to high for this.

~Nichuuu

[penkura]

Zoro has come to want nothing more than for you and your children to be safe. He believes for the longest time that the three of you being on the Sunny, where he can protect you, is the safest place in the world, no village or city could be safer. Zoro believes that fully, up until your ship is attacked by enemy Pirates. No one is surprised when you take your children, who are barely two years old and nearly four months old, below deck for safety, even as they both cry from the sounds and you try to calm them down.

When it's all over and he goes to retrieve the three of you, there's a strange feeling in his chest and a thought in the back of his mind that hits him when he sees you coddling your toddler and infant, both of whom are still fussy and upset, but your son starts to relax when he sees Zoro there and knows everything is okay, quickly running to be held in his dad's arms. He lifts him easily, your two year old burying his face in his neck, still crying just a bit, and the face you give him tells Zoro you have the same thought.

This isn't a safe place for children.

The two of you have several discussions the days after, on what to do now that your two little ones have had to experience the reality of living on a pirate ship so early on. Eventually you decide that it's best if, at the next island you dock at, you take your children and leave for some time, to give them a chance to grow up without fearing for their lives. Most places you visit are receptive to your crew, they welcome you all happily, and you fully believe the next island will too, based on things you've heard about it. Zoro only agrees because he wants you to be safe, you and your babies, he doesn't want anything to happen to any of you, not now not ever.

He doesn't fully accept that idea until a few weeks later, when you've left the ship with Nami and Jinbei, and have Zoro stay with your napping babies. The thought has been nagging him ever since that last attack against your crew, since he's been watching your kids grow a little more. Your son has been attached to Zoro ever since, especially when he wakes in the night, calling for him like he's had a nightmare (he probably has, Zoro realizes), while your daughter has been fully calm ever since, sleeping and nursing normally, she doesn't understand what happened and won't for several more years.

When you get back later, you find Zoro still watching them sleep, like he hasn't moved at all, lost in thought as you sit beside him. You lean against his arm, and he acknowledges you with a slight grunt and nod, before you start talking.

"I found a place we can stay."

"Yeah?"

"A small house right inside the town, the landowner is willing to let us rent it."

"That's good..."

The rest of the crew helps you pack that night, Luffy has agreed to letting you and your children leave for a time, at least until they're old enough to defend themselves, though you aren't sure you'll return. He understands that too, saying they'll always come by no matter what, as often as they can, with a grin on his face that eases you. Zoro plans to stay with you a few days more, while the Sunny is docked, and even tells you he'll take leave until you're comfortable, but you don't want him to waste time. It's not fair to him, or the rest of your crew, so you promise him that you'll be fine, the three of you will be okay.

But when those few days are up and it's time for everyone to go, you're starting to regret your decision, especially as your son cries and holds onto Zoro's leg, telling him to stay. It breaks both your hearts, and your daughter starts to whine while in her carrier on your chest.

"No go! Dada stay!"

When he finally looks down at your son, Zoro gives him a small smile as the toddler looks up at him, tears and snot running down his red face, before he picks him up and starts to wipe the tears away.

"Now that's enough. I'll be back."

"No...no go!"

"Hey now, you're a big boy, aren't ya?" Your son starts to quiet, nodding just a little, before Zoro sets his forehead against your son’s, "I need you to do something for me, all right? I need you to take care of your mama and baby sister until I get back, okay?"

He sniffles but nods again, before hugging Zoro around the neck.

"Miss you..."

"Yeah...I'll miss you too, buddy."

Zoro sets your son back on the ground after a few more minutes, before leaning down to your daughter and kissing the top of her head.

"Gonna miss you too, princess, be good for mama," you've been trying not to cry, for your children really, but you almost join in the tears when Zoro hugs you next, "I'll miss you the most. Be safe, all right?"

Nodding, you smile just a bit, leaning up to give him one more kiss before he leaves.

"I love you, we'll see you when you get back."

"I love you, too. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"I know you will."

Your son waves the whole time he can see Zoro leaving, only stopping when he's no longer visible, then looking up to you.

"Dada back..."

"Yeah," you smile and take his hand, starting to lead him back inside your rented home, "Dada will come back, just like he said."

[picturejasper20]

Steven Universe as a character is someone who has been mischaracterized and flanderized over the years, to the point people who aren't into the fandom or haven't watched the show believe that mischaracterization to be a fact rather that a product that comes from memes and jokes

The truth is that Steven often fights in the series when it is needed, usually by fusing with someone else like Connie or Amethyst since he is still developing his powers in the original series. He doesn't cry when he has to fight back or defend himself, with exception if the person attacking is someone he considers a friend. Because, yes, for a 14-15 old teenager it isn't fun having to do something like that and it can be traumatic.

He also doesn't start to cry the moment someone refuses to change their mind or is being mean. He often isn't afraid to be sarcastic or call that person out. He didn't cry when Aquamarine mocked him in ¨Stuck Together¨ nor when Jasper didn't apologize for poofing Amethyst in ¨Crack the Whip¨

However, what we see is sometimes him blaming himself for not being able to help people that, more often than not, have been hurt by Rose Quartz, his mother, in some way. After Season 3, Steven fears a lot that he is going to become like Rose and he is going to hurt people the way like she did.

In general Steven deals with an Atlas complex in the show. He feels like he has to fix his mother mistakes and deal with ¨what she left behind¨ even when Rose wanted for him to be his own person as seen in the tape she left for him as it was revealed in the episode ¨Lion 4: The Alternate Ending¨.

Steven also defines his identity a lot for being to help other people and fix their problems. He believes that he has to be ¨useful¨ for others. So when he believes that he failed to help someone, that may lead him to think that he isn't living up to his ¨purpose¨ or that he is a failure as a person.

In reality, he isn't that much different from other hero protagonists from other animated shows. Those who are kind and emphatic and willing to listen to other people and give them a second chance if the person changes their ways. You probably like an animated show that has a protagonist like this. (Who was probably taken inspiration from Steven if the series came out after SU).

The main difference, i think, is that Steven goes a bit more than those protagonists do when it comes to listening to other people, understand their motivations and give them another chance if they regret their actions. A lot has to do with how he is aware that his enemies (usually gems) act the way the do because of the system they were born into rather ¨they are evil just because¨. He gets that their motivations come from the system that hurt them or lead them to believe that their actions are justified.

Another common mischaracterization is that Steven becomes super buddies with every person he helps...when this isn't always the case. There are some occasions that Steven shows discomfort around people who he has given a second chance. Just because he gives them a second chance doesn't mean that he immediately considers them close friends, maybe allies at best.

A good example of this is the gif above of Steven's interactions with White Diamond in ¨Homeworld Bound¨. White Diamond touches Steven very close to where his gem is- which makes Steven distressed since in his battle again White, she ripped his gem out to prove that Pink was still ¨alive¨. In most of the episode Steven shows to be very uncomfortable around the Diamonds and Spinel, to some extent. They bring him bad memories, which is the main reason he has been doing everything to avoid going to them to ask for their help until this point in Steven Universe Future. He even almost accidentally hurts White's gem by smashing her head against a pillar when she lets him control her to talk to himself. This being result of a intrusive ¨vengeful¨ thought.

I wouldn't say that Steven hates the Diamonds,but- he doesn't want to be their friend neither and wants to avoid in general because he feels nervous and bad around them. It's something like ¨I'm glad that you are changing but i don't want to be associated with you. Please, i would appreciate if you kept your distance from me.¨ dynamic.

On last point, Steven is someone who usually pushes his feelings down in certain situations and buries them down, which has led him to have strong emotional outbursts in bad moments. He usually prefers to ignore his own problems and take priority on others. Again, this comes a lot from his desire to be useful and be needed, making him trying to ignore how he feels about certain people and pretend that he is doing fine.

This explains why we don't see him lash out that much to others in the original series, and, why he feels so frustrated and angry in Future, since all that anger and negative feelings can't no longer be ignored as they used to and they are having a negative impact in Steven's mental health. This, of course, isn't meant to be seen is a healthy coping mechanism. It is in fact potrayed as something pretty self-destructive for Steven, as a huge flaw of his, that over time he comes to learn that it isn't the best way for him to deal with his problems.

These are some of the most common misconceptions i have seen about Steven's character online. I could go in more depth with some of them but i think the points should be clear enough. This could be considered a general analysis of how Steven is as a character and how he operates, leaving aside more specific things that can be covered in other posts.

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader Word count: 3,160 Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails. Warnings: Bucky is mean, a couple of insults, mistreatment of age regressed reader, manipulation, crying, mentions of the s-word, mention of the r-word, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares. A/N: I'm sorry I breathe pain but I love you:"💜x(also if you have any suggestions for these two just let me know). please enjoy💜 ~ Before Mrs. Morrison arrived, Bucky had made sure to make her a proper breakfast for the first time since she's been at his house. She couldn't need for anything today.

Showered: check Fed: check Properly dressed: check

“And then what?” He asked, closing the peanut butter jar. “Then we pour the warm milk,” she instructed with a soft smile, helping Bucky prepare her meal. “I thought you were supposed to make this with cold milk.” “That’s just what the box says, but we’re not gonna listen,” she whispered as if scared to hurt the cereal box’s feelings. Bucky chuckled despite himself and finally, unintentionally allowed her a glimpse of something other than a frown. “You’re pretty,” she told him with a dreamy smile, already blushing at the fact that she made him smile. “Hey!” Bucky glared again as if he's just been insulted. “Sorry,” she huffed, looking at her breakfast being stirred. “You better be.” Bucky didn’t know why he acted so defensive or why he wanted her to be sorry. It was like there was something inside of him repelling anything nice or sweet that could be thrown his way as if it was a contagious virus. “Eat your breakfast so we can fix that hair of yours. Can’t believe you managed to mess it up again,” Bucky told her, walking away from the kitchen. “Bucky not gonna eat?” She tilted her head in question. “Mind your own business,” Bucky threw rudely, still avoiding her attempts at caring for him. She huffed again as she watched him sit before the TV, pretending to be focused on anything but her presence in his apartment. She had to take matters into her own hands. Ever so slowly, she rounded the kitchen counter and slightly opened the same cabinet Bucky had opened to get her a bowl out of. Thankfully, she found one other bowl. Twisting her hand side-ways, she pulled it out of the small opening she made in the cabinet door in slow motion in order not to alarm Bucky. And while he drowned in his own thoughts, she started preparing him a similar corn flakes bowl so he could have breakfast too. On the other side of the room, Bucky’s mind was attacking him with thoughts. What was he going to do during those three months? He’d already had his face flushed and his heart beat going a million per second when he had to give her a shower yesterday. He couldn’t believe the first time he got to see a naked lady after 70 years, it had to be her. A lady who wasn’t really a lady. He felt dirty. Like he shouldn’t have been doing that. She sounded so young but looked old enough and it messed with his head. How many more times was he supposed to do this again during those three months? “Here, Bucky,” she cut off his thoughts, carefully bringing forth a bowl of corn flakes in warm milk with honey. “Why didn’t you eat?” Bucky rolled his eyes, thinking she probably wanted him to feed her now. It was probably her chance while he was doing everything she wanted so that she wouldn’t rat him out to Mrs. Morrison. “It’s for Bucky,” she explained, setting the bowl before him on the floor. “Who said I wanted to eat that goo?” Bucky glared at her for acting like she knew what he needed. “It’s delicious, I promise. Give it a try.” She held a half full spoon up to him. Bucky was still as a statue, looking at her with a frown. He was too angry to even blink. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” He seethed through his teeth. “I know. But I wanted to share.” Her shoulders slumped, as she put the spoon back in the bowl. Bucky felt a tiny bit remorseful. No one’s made him food since his mom and internally, he was kind of grateful. But of course, he wouldn’t let it show. “Fine, gimme that,” he snapped, taking the bowl off the floor and shoving a spoon in his mouth. It was actually good, homely and soft enough to chew but not too saggy. Something about the taste of corn and the honeyed milk made Bucky warm inside. As Bucky chewed on his food, she ran back to the kitchen counter, picking up her bowl too and coming back to sit next to Bucky on the floor. “Do you like it?” She asked before slipping her spoon in her mouth. “I don’t hate it.” He shrugged, refusing to give her the pleasure of being right.

If only he knew she never cared about being right. “I’m happy you like it.” She beamed. “I didn’t say that.” “Fine.” She pouted, swirling her spoon around without eating. Bucky felt weird, almost like he felt bad. After all, she’d warned him about the visit and practically saved his butt from Sam and most importantly, his therapist. “Why didn’t you put peanut butter in mine?” Bucky nudged her with a question, refusing to utter a clear apology for his harshness. “Bucky doesn’t like peanut butter on cornflakes,” she whispered, still facing down and moving her spoon around the bowl. “And how did you know that?” Bucky raised his eyebrows because really, how did she know that? Do they give her a file too? “You said “ugh” while adding peanut butter to my cornflakes,” she explained simply. Huh. So she was observant and kind of… smart. “Eat your food,” Bucky said, holding the tip of her spoon to stop her from twirling it. He thought he used a gentler tone but apparently that wasn’t the case because she still looked melancholic. He didn’t have patience for this, for fuck’s sake! Bad word, his mind replied. So she was inside of his head now too?! “Ugh, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, not sure why he did. Because he didn’t care.

He didn’t. “Why do you hate me?” Her small voice asked, sounding sadder than he’d ever heard her sound before. Her question surprised him and he stopped chewing. Bucky frankly had no idea why or if he hated her. He’d told himself he hated her on her first night here, but that was just because she invaded his space and overwhelmed him by doing everything he wasn’t used to. But now that he had to think about it, did he actually hate her? The answer was no and Bucky knew it. “I don’t hate you,” Bucky murmured, setting his bowl down and picking up hers. “You just confuse me very much.” Bucky held her spoon up to her lips. She looked at him and the spoon with so much hope that Bucky felt absolutely shitty for pretending to be nicer to her for the sake of today’s visit.

On the other hand, she couldn’t believe Bucky was offering her the spoon, feeding her. But Bucky didn’t care. He just needed this to go well, and he wasn’t about to let her ruin it because she wanted to have a long face today. “Confuse Bucky? Why? Doll never lies,” she said, her tone sincere and eyes begging Bucky to believe and trust her. Yeah, Bucky felt terrible. He decided that if he kept answering her with the truth that might take some of the guilt he was feeling away. “It’s not about lies,” Bucky replied, nearing the spoon to her lips more so she could eat. She complied and took the spoon into her mouth, wanting to hear more. “It’s that this is all new to me. This kind of stuff never existed in the 40s.” Bucky shrugged, getting another spoon ready. She ate the cereal obediently, chewing quickly so she can ask a question. “But Bucky doesn’t hate me?” She looked at him like her life depended on his answer. “No, Bucky doesn’t hate you,” Bucky chuckled at how cute she looked talking with food in her mouth, but quickly controlled himself. “Bucky just needs time to get used to everything.” She realized out loud, making Bucky swallow apologetically. Has he just been understood for the first time in years by someone other than Steve? It was the truth. Bucky needed time to get used to this and her. The only lies were that his actions weren’t because he really cared and that he didn’t want to get used to this or her. He tried hard to ignore the feeling the mere action of feeding her gave him, too. Taking care of someone like that? It felt good for some odd, unknown reason. Bucky nodded in reply, continuing to feed her, “yeah, I need time.” “I promise I’ll give you time, Bucky. I won’t annoy you no more.” Her eyes were genuine as humanly possible when she cradled his metal hand as it held her bowl and Bucky felt a pang in his chest. How could anyone be so patient and pure, especially these days? He couldn’t believe she still had it in her to consider how he felt in spite of the way he’s treated her. She must know nothing about him or his past. A knock on the door pulled Bucky out of his head and he swallowed nervously, putting the bowl down and standing up to answer the door. She took her bowl and his and quickly moved to sit on the couch, knowing it would look better that way. She was going to do her best to make everything easier on and for Bucky from now on and for the rest of her time with him. ~ After Mrs. Morrison has greeted them both and privately talked to Bucky in the kitchen, she took Doll to the bedless bedroom, wanting to make sure she really was okay. “Listen, doll, don’t feel like you have to do this. If Bucky is unwelcoming, you can come with me right now,” she reassured the girl, never wanting her to go through an unpleasant experience. “I’m okay, Mrs. Morrison, I promise.” She smiled. “Are you sure? Because I know he’s not the nicest I’ve ever met,” Mrs. Morrison joked, making the younger girl laugh. Of course, she had no idea that with Bucky’s enhanced hearing, he could hear them. He really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m sure. Bucky is not evil, he’s just misunderstood,” she told her, her tone sure. Now that had Bucky intentionally eavesdropping. What did she just say about him? “Is he now?” Mrs. Morrison smiled. “Yes, I swear! Even by himself.” She defended. “And how is that?” the woman was genuinely interested in making sure her girl wasn’t being abused.

“Big me read about him in the library before. He’s not a bad man. He’s a hero, Mrs. Morrison, but he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t think he deserves nice things but he does. He deserves all the nice things!” Bucky was wordless at her speech. Was that how she really thought of him? “But is he good to you, doll?” Mrs. Morrison asked. This was supposed to be the question he worried most about being answered, but Bucky was still frozen, trying to recover from the way her previous words hit him. “Yes, he’s good to me. Even got me a new stuffie!” She told the older woman excitedly without even taking a second to think about her answer, completely omitting the fact that she practically begged him to get her that stuffed animal. “Oh, really? I didn’t see it!” Mrs. Morrison was starting to feel good about this, thinking that maybe she’d misjudged Bucky. “I keep it in my bag when I wake up because I don’t wanna lose it. It’s a white wolf, just like Bucky!” “Just like Bucky?” the woman frowned in confusion. “It’s the name Bucky was given in Wakanda,” she explained. Bucky felt warmth spread throughout his chest for the first time in decades. She knew all that? “You’ve really done your homework huh?” Mrs. Morrison teased, getting up from the floor with Doll. “Big me likes history and research… and cute guys,” she giggled with a shy shrug, making Bucky huff half a chuckle. “Alright then, I will leave you with this cute guy and I’ll come back next month, okay? But until then, I want you to promise to take care of yourself, doll.” “I will, Mrs. Morrison,” she promised politely, giving the woman a tight hug, “thank you for coming.” Bucky closed the door behind the older lady, relieved that the visit went well. He let out a breath he was holding and stood with his back to her, unsure about what he should do. “Bucky,” she called out. “What’s wrong now?” Bucky huffed as he turned around. He felt bad when he saw her soft smile reaching her eyes at the sight of him just looking at her, but he couldn’t let it get to him.

He did what he had to do to save his ass.

She said a lot of nice things about him, but that didn’t mean he was going to yield to this unwelcomed, unwanted situation that Sam’s gotten him in. He didn’t need this. He wasn’t the one to start all this. “Do you wanna draw together?” She played with her fingers nervously. “I don’t know how to do that. You draw, okay?” Bucky said, showing no interest as he started putting his shoes on. “Bucky leaving?” Her voice was chocked with held up tears. “Yes.” He grabbed his keys, trying his best not to look at her dejected face. “But—” “You didn’t seriously think I would magically start wanting to spend time with you, did you?” She involuntarily let out a tiny gasp, hurt at the fact that he just manipulated her for the one reason that is Mrs. Morrison’s visit. “You gonna start crying again?” He made fun of her as he pulled his gloves on, not in the mood for the public stares. “Bucky!” she whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Don’t wait up if you wanna fall asleep.” With that, Bucky slammed the door behind him, locking it and leaving her alone. She just fell on the couch, sobbing as her fists grabbed at her own knees.

How stupid was she? He’s already told her he never wanted her. Why would he suddenly want to spend time with her? Just because he fed her a couple of spoons? Stupid. Maybe she should’ve acted exactly the way he’d expected her to from the beginning. Maybe Bucky was right, there was nothing she could do to help. She wasn’t here to fix anything. Her presence was just a thing Bucky had to put up with, nothing more. ~ As Bucky walked down the street, he wanted to bang his forehead on the nearest wall. Why didn’t he just tell her he was going to get them food like he actually was? Why did he have to be mean and rude? He didn’t want to get her hopes up, he knew that. But that certainly wasn’t the best way to let her know. He could’ve talked to her and she would’ve understood. She was smart and far from a ‘retard’ like he’d so unfairly called her before. But no, he couldn’t get too close. He wouldn’t let her involve him in whatever she was doing. Whatever. Bucky didn’t want to think about her or her feelings. Or about the way her eyebrows knot when she’s about to cry... Or the tremble of her lower lip before the very first tear falls out… Damn it, he fucked up. Bad word, she would say… Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in defeat as he walked towards the nearest grocery store he knew of. ~ I'm sorry. I’m. Sorry. I am sorry Bucky quietly practiced before his closed door as if it was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He needed to make this right. It really wasn’t her fault that they were making him do those things. She was nothing but sweet to him despite everything he’s done to and with her. When he was ready enough to open the door, however, her eyes weren’t on him like he’d expected and wanted them to be. In fact, they weren’t on anything because she was asleep. Bucky sighed as he dumbly waved the pizza box above her sleeping body. She didn’t have lunch because she was spending time with Mrs. Morrison and now she was asleep without dinner either because of him and his stupidity. “Hey,” Bucky called softly, well, softer than he’s ever talked to her. She didn’t answer, pretending to be fast asleep with her face buried in the corner of Bucky’s couch. He couldn’t see anything but her stuffed ducky looking back at him as if in blame. Oh. She was back to hugging her old stuffed animal. Not the white wolf Bucky’s gotten her. Bucky understood now that he’d messed up big time. She clearly didn’t angelically forgive him without an apology this time. He carelessly threw the unopened pizza on the kitchen counter, taking his jacket off and his place on the floor. He had no appetite now. He turned on the TV on silent and turned the lights off before letting out one long sigh.

She felt so bad because Bucky hasn’t eaten anything all day either, but she was too sad with him to do anything about it. Bucky didn’t want her to care for him, so she was going to finally listen to his wishes. When Bucky woke up from his nightmares that night, she had to continue pretending like it didn’t wake her up too. She squeezed her eyes shut and continued to bury her face in the cushion despite herself. No lullabies were sung and no water or tissues were offered. It was just Bucky lying alone on his floor again, sweaty, traumatized and regretful as one could be. She heard him moving around and apparently he was dressing because a minute later he left the apartment. When she peeked through the blinds, Bucky was jogging down the street. It was 4 am and she knew she couldn’t pretend to be asleep forever, but she’ll continue trying for now. ~ When Bucky came back from his 3-hour run, he had finally calmed down and he had a solid apology ready on the tip of his tongue this time. He was going to make this right and he was going to do it now. “Bucky.” He heard her panicked voice call his name and instantly fell into a protective mode he didn't know existed within his system. “I had an accident.” Bucky followed her tearful eyes down and when he looked at her bloodied PJ pants, Bucky was panicked too. He's seen a lot of blood, shed a lot of blood, but the sight of blood on her clothes freaked him out more than anything he has ever seen before. “What happened?!”

part III

~

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[bellsmess]

Whenever someone calls Charles Rowland straight, an angel dies.

What straight guy tells his best friend who just confessed to him that there's no one else – no one – he would go to Hell for. And that they have forever to figure out what that means. You don’t get his repressed bisexuality like I do!

Even modern bisexuals (I may or may not be speaking from personal experience) are oblivious to the fact they're bi because heteronormative roles are so engraved in our minds. When you're attracted to other genders, it's easy to miss a same-sex crush, only then to realise that oh, it wasn’t just admiration, it was attraction.

Charles, having grown up at the height of the AIDS crisis, with an abusive and probably homophobic father, killed by racist bullies? That would make anyone repress any gay feelings. Especially if you experience crushes on people with a different sex to you.

Charles sees Crystal and takes his chance. He's enamoured with this smart, strong-willed, pretty girl who can see him not only in a physical sense, but pays attention to him. He longs to be loved. Then he says the infamous "That sounds alot like you, doesn't it? Maybe that's why I like her so much" line. What an icon. And he compares himself and his best friend to the greatest love story of all time, Orpheus and Euridyce's.

When Edwin confesses to him, he doesn't rule out the possibility of returning these feelings. He knows they're already devoted to each other. They've already had 30 years of companionship and solving cases together.

"As long as I have my best mate and a case to solve, I'm good."

Being with Edwin is simple. They solve cases, help others, run away from Death. It's a simple existance. Charles gave up eternity to be with Edwin, because he was kind to him when he was dying. Charles finds him fun, wants to protect him, knows that Edwin is a kind and good person. One that Charles wants to be.

"Bad guys don't worry about being bad guys. And you, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know."

Crystal's role is very important in changing the dynamic between Edwin and Charles. Not only because Charles falls for her, but because she opens them up. She digs out their repressed feelings and trauma. Charles finally deals with his dad's abuse, his happy-go-lucky mask falls. She points it out to Edwin. Charles kept it up so well because Edwin didn't press it, but Crystal does. And Charles finally lets himself process what happened to him, and how that affects his relationships.

Charles never saw genuine love between his parents, and that affects how he views relationships. It impacts how he forms them, too. But he's a loverboy, he longs to be loved, he falls easily. Why wouldn’t he fall for someone who stuck to his side for 30 years?

Crystal and Monty's roles mirror each other – they help the boys figure out their feelings and desires. Crystal makes Edwin jealous that there's someone else Charles cares about in the same sense he cares for Edwin. The Cat King helps Edwin discover desire, Monty – genuine love. As Charles' and Crystal's relationship kickstarts (albeit ends as quickly) and Monty persues Edwin, he discovers the depth of his feelings.

"These complicated feelings that you have? They're for Charles."

I would love to see their wants explored more in the future season(s, hopefully multiple). Charles giving into desire with Desire of the Endless' guidance? Yes please.

I simply cannot believe that anyone would doubt Painland/Payneland endgame. They're everything to each other. They're a constant presence, reassurance, and love. Platonic, romantic, it doesn't matter. Their bond is so deep and genuine that immortal beings see it and leave them be, in the afterlife they chose for each other. Their love is so deep it transcends planes: from mortal plane to Hell, it leads Charles to Edwin. Charles is not Orpheus, when he turns around to hear Edwin out on the staircase from Hell, he manages to get him out. And they have literally forever for each other.

[lure-of-writing]

Little sister: Knock before you enter

Summary: Maybe Rhys should knock before he enters

Word count: 1.6k

Rhysand had many titles and jobs he was required to upkeep and fulfill. The most daunting title of all; your brother. And as your older brother it was his job to keep you happy and safe but how is he supposed to do that while being high lord, tending to his court, being a new father and a good mate. It was safe to say that he had been falling behind in that area of his life and by no means were you upset with him. Truthfully if Rhysand was willing to admit it to himself you were probably happy to not have him breathing down your neck every two seconds but as your older brother he couldn’t let his lack of time keep him from checking in on you. 

Flying to the house of wind he greets Cassian and Nesta in the kitchen having breakfast after what he could only assume was a long training session. Of one kind or another. “Good morning, have you seen my sister by chance?” He stopped to grab a piece of fruit that sat in the basket on the counter. Nesta shook her head in a no motion while bringing her cup to her lips to take a sip. “She wasn’t at training this morning.”  his general responded. It wasn’t unusual for you to skip training every now and then but since befriending Cassian's mate you made it more of a point to be consistent in your routine. Something most definitely had to be off. The high lord nodded at his family members and silently made his way to your bedroom and once your door handle was within reach he pushed the door open without any thought. 

The second his eyes took in the scene before him, he really wished he would have knocked. At least to give Azriel the chance to winnow away before he caught the two of you in a compromising position. “Well good morning to you too.” Your light laughter felt like a slap in the face and your brother directed his gaze to the ceiling. Azriel said nothing as he continued tightening the lace of your corset as if this was another normal day for the three of you. It in fact was not another normal day for the three of you.

In the middle of the room stood you and Azriel. Your back facing him while he gently pulls the strings of the fabric together in hopes of tightening the fabric to be flush with your body. Neither you nor Azriel seemed fazed by this arraignment. Rhysand made a mental note to ask his shadowsinger about that later. Right now he was trying to find a reason as to why you felt comfortable wearing nothing but this corset top and underwear in front of the man he considered a brother. He would also have to ask about that later. 

Coughing Rhys found the bravery in himself to look at you again for a mere seconds before shifting his gaze to literally anything else in your room. “Azriel, why are you helping my sister get dressed?” Before his friend could answer you jumped in to answer for him “Because I can’t tie a corset by myself, obviously” for a few seconds you watched while your brother tried to find the right words but by the time he had found them you were already strutting across the room and into the closet to grab the skirt that matches the outfit. Putting it on before him and the spymaster. Effortlessly you pulled it up and around your waist while turning once again to give Azriel access to tie the strings of your skirt together and complete your outfit. “And where exactly are you going where you need an outfit like that?” nothing about your outfit was revealing but it was definitely one of your nicer outfits for sure. Once again your laughter rang out into the room filling it with undeniable warmth. “Fatherhood sure has made you quite forgetful hasn’t it?”  Rhys tried to rack his brain for any reason you would need to be dressed up and he couldn’t find any. Maybe fatherhood has made him forgetful. “I’m going to visit the summer court and try to fix our relationship with them and since you are quite forgetful today, here is your reminder that Az is coming with me.” Silently the two male lock eye contact and Rhys raises a brow in questioning. Az titled his head slightly in a questioning manner. “You really want your sister going to another court alone?” 

Sighing a hefty sigh which Rhys was sure would be the first of many today he shook his head. “Of course I don’t want her to go alone. I just don’t recall telling you to go with her.” Confused, Azriel asked “Who else would go then?” And honestly Rhysand had no idea. 

After one week which felt like forever knowing you were alone with his shadowsinger the two of you had finally returned. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust the two of you but he couldn’t help but remember you curled up a little too comfortably in the spymaster's lap during the family dinner and now he walks into your room and there is Azriel helping you get dressed while you're basically naked. Something about that made his stomach queasy. 

After you had debriefed with your brother about your week, your very exciting week at that, you had made your grand exit to your room to wash away the day of traveling you had endured while Azriel gave him his report of your experience. After explaining everything the two males once again found themselves in the same situation as a week ago. Silently observing each other waiting for someone to make the first move. “Would you like to explain why you were in my sister's room helping her get dressed last week?” Az said nothing for a minute while staring at his high lord. “Like you said I was helping her get dressed.” Rhysand couldn’t help the scoff that slipped from his lips in disbelief. “Az I’m not stupid. I know something is going on between the two of you just please be honest and tell me. First she sits in your lap which sure isn’t unusual for her but then when I go to get her up from you, you don’t let me. Then at the court of nightmares, which don’t get me wrong I am eternally grateful that you protected her but then she kisses you like her life depended on it and leads you off to gods know where and now I find you in her room quote unquote helping her get dressed while she's basically half naked. I would be lying if I said this didn’t make me mad but  I really just want you to be truthful with me.” 

Azriel knew just how bad it seemed to anyone but the two of you but listening to Rhys list off all the stuff he had seen you two do, did seem a little suspicious. But truthfully he could say that nothing was going on between the two of you. Sure you liked to push the boundaries of friends to lovers quite often but it was always with Azriels concent and permission and nothing more ever happened then what Rhys had witnessed. Azriel respected Rhysand in more ways than one and part of that meant never crossing the in your relationship into something more as much as Azriel really wished he could. Some part of Azriel knew that you were meant for him but he knew his high lords stance on either him or Cassian dating his little sister. And it was never an option because Rhysand would never allow it to be one. 

“Rhys, I respect you which means I also respect you that don’t want me to date your little sister. I would never do anything to cross that line and I honestly try not to but you know you sister. She likes to get under your skin and since Cassian can’t help her achieve that goal anymore she comes to me. If it truly bothers you that much I will talk to her and put it to a stop. As for last week, after training I was the first one back down into the house and she simply asked for my help. At first I denied but once she brought the corset out to show me how complicated it was I agreed to help her, nothing more was going on I promise.”

After a long and much needed talk with Azriel, Rhysand had finally made it back to his bedroom and his wonderful mate. Once the couple had caught each other up on their day things started to escalate and before he knew it he was starting to undress Feyre. Suddenly the bedroom door slammed open and there you were standing in the entrance of his room staring at him expectantly. After a very lengthy pause of the three of you glancing at and forth at each other you finally speak. “Rhys what are you doing? Feyre is a grown woman she can undress herself. She doesn’t need your help.” with an exhausted sigh you watch as your brother rubs his weary face. He knew exactly what this was about. “Maybe next time you'll knock before entering.” Feyre watched as you turned around and left as if you had not just barged into their room. Without saying anything to her mate she raises an eyebrow in question as if to say “What was that about?” Sighing once more Rhysand just shakes his head before face planting into their bed. Exiting his house you make your way to where Azriel was waiting to fly the two of you back to the house of wind “Maybe next time he’ll actually knock.” The gentle laugh of the shadowsinger caressed your heart as he scooped you into his arms and took off to the sky. That was not before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

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