#got the nerdy girl look while being ridiculously athletic

[soul-controller]

Dad, Be Careful What You Wish For...

Ever since she was born, Brooke wanted nothing more than to gain her father Brad’s approval and love. Even from a young age, she was aware of the fact that she wasn’t the child he had expected. He was seemingly dead-set on having a son, so despite the confirmation of his wife being pregnant with a girl, he still set up a more masculine bedroom for his first child. No matter how hard he tried though, he was unable to make Brooke as athletic and manly as he desired… and he was quite pissed about that. 

Whenever his wife would work a night shift, Brad would force his daughter to watch ESPN with him while making sure to share his anger with his young daughter after having a few too many beers. “I really wish that you had been a boy,” he would say with a drunken slur, “I’d rather have no child than some bratty little girl”. Of course, these statements only furthered Brooke’s own shame in regards to her gender. 

This wasn’t the only sexism that Brad displayed though, as his wife was forced to subscribe into conventional gender roles (such as making dinner and doing all of the chores around the house) while actually working two jobs to provide for the family. No matter how hard she tried to fight back and assert herself, Brad was quick to dismiss her and knock her down a few pegs. As such, it wasn’t a surprise that she finally got up the courage to divorce Brad and flee from the state. While Brooke totally understood why her mom left, there was still some resentment felt as she was now forced by her father to pick up the slack and do those household chores for the family. 

No matter how hard she tried to be athletic though to win some approval from her father, she was never able to make it onto the basketball or cheerleading teams as her lack of hand-eye coordination consistently prevented her from ever making the final cut. Luckily for Brooke though, some relief from Brad’s constant athletic-related torment came when Braeden and Brighton were born when she was 6. The twin brothers were able to be easily molded into the athletic jocks that Brad had always wanted to help create, which was made especially clear as the trio sat in the living room watching sports and cheering while Brooke was forced to clean up their messes and keep the house looking clean. 

This fact was even more of a devastating blow as she made it through high school and found herself constantly coming face-to-face with old photos of her father plastered at the school’s athletic hall of fame display. With so many sad and pathetic try-outs under her belt, it had become clear to her that this innate ability to play sports wasn’t something that she had inherited from her father. Instead of putting her body through an intense workout in a gym or on a court though, she did end up finding a favorite pastime that kept her interest. Almost every day after school, she would head to her local library and study countless topics to keep her mind constantly learning new and interesting information. Despite this interest though, her father certainly didn’t approve and constantly ridiculed her for being a “pathetic wimp”. As such, it wasn’t much of a surprise that she felt constantly ashamed to be the daughter of such a well-renowned jock. 

Even as she moved on to a local community college, she couldn’t escape hearing about the impressive senior twins at the nearby high school who were surely both on their way towards a full ride athletic scholarship anywhere they wanted. Due to the constant praise about her siblings while she remained completely ignored by both the city and her family, it wasn’t much of a surprise that she felt constantly ashamed to be the nerdy daughter of such a well-renowned athletic family. In fact, she had grown so depressed that she almost always fell asleep wishing that her life could change for the better. 

One day after arriving home after some classes at the college, the 23-year-old was feeling especially upset due to the fact that news had broken that her twin brothers had not only won a full-ride scholarship for their sports abilities, but they also decided to attend her dream school. Upon dropping her bag onto the floor, Brooke felt completely exhausted and emotionally broken. So as soon as she fell back into her bed, Brooke allowed a few tears to run down her cheeks as she slowly cried herself to sleep. As she drifted off into unconsciousness, there were so many thoughts running through her head. She wanted so badly to be respected by her father and brothers, her mind couldn’t help but feel intense rage towards them. Just because she was some average girl not gifted with insane athletic ability didn’t make her useless! “I wish I had been a boy,” she slowly said under her breath, the last words she spoke before finally falling asleep. Unknown to her, the universe heard every thought and word that she muttered and began to help her achieve her dreams and fulfill her wishes… 

* * * * * 

As the early morning chimes of an alarm rang out in Brooke’s bedroom, a hand was quick to come out from under the covers and turn it off. But instead of Brooke’s pale and dainty arm coming out of the sheets, a tanned, buff, and hairy arm was what quickly slammed down onto the clock. As this same arm ripped away the covers and sat up in the bed, it soon became that the former Brooke had become replaced with an absolute hunky stud of a man. Instead of golden blonde hair and an average-looking face, this new brown-haired individual was graced with modelesque features and impressive facial hair. Even as the man widely yawned aloud and stretched out his arms, he still looked absolutely gorgeous while doing it. Upon rubbing his eyes a few times, the man finally got himself out of bed and started to make his way towards the bathroom. As he passed the threshold of the doorway, he quickly closed the door and flicked on the bathroom light. 

While waiting for the shower water to warm up, the man took the opportunity to check himself out in the mirror. It was at this point where it soon became clear that the body of a formerly meek and nervous woman was gone besides one remnant - their shared deep brown eyes.

Besides that though, the man standing in the mirror was a far cry from the woman she used to be. But for the original girl who had made that tearful wish, she had no way of knowing what had happened to her as her mind was also completely transformed. Instead of the name Brooke, the only name that came to mind was Brock, which was most certainly befitting of a bonafide stud like him. His body was the most noticeable difference as his average and slightly toned physique was blessed overnight with incredible musculature: biceps, pecs, and abs that surely would have taken years of hard work. But in his mind, he had undergone all of that hard work as memories conjured up reminded Brock of his upbringing.

From as soon as he could walk, Brock was a naturally athletic and active man. Throughout his childhood, he played countless sports and still found himself eager for more. It was a bit of a chore for his mother to drive him to every possible game and tournament, but she was still willing to do it for her own child’s happiness. Luckily, the man soon found the perfect area to tire himself out: the gym. As soon as he was given a gym membership for his 14th birthday, Brock practically lived there whenever he wasn’t at school or at practice. 

Along with these memories, Brock also learned more about the new relationship he had with his father. For years, they had been incredibly close, but as Brock continued to mature and grow bigger and bigger, some strain emerged in their relationship. Clearly, Brad was intimidated by his son’s physique as he grew bigger than he had ever been, but nothing left him angrier than his son’s success in all of the same sports that he played in high school. One-by-one, Brock found himself beating his father’s long-held records to the point where the high school’s athletic hall of fame display was primarily composed of photos of Brock’s young jock self. Due to this, their relationship had this one-sided beef due to Brad’s intense jealousy. However, this shifting in personality made it so Brock loved that jealousy as he loved getting under his dad’s skin. In fact, there were many memories that even involved him taunting his dad by calling him “short stuff” or stating that he was looking smaller than usual. In many ways, these little jabs against his father only pushed him to get bigger and hunkier than his father ever could be! 

When it came to his other memories regarding his family, the relationship he had with his brothers seemed to be rather standard. Given his status as the buff older brother, there wasn’t a moment that went by where he wasn’t tormenting them in clear displays of his power (both physically and mental). Whenever they were distracted, Brock loved nothing more than sneaking up on them and pulling them into a headlock. It was always humorous to watch them struggle against the bulge of his bicep and dampness of his armpits, so even when they begged him to stop, Brock refused to ruin the fun he was having. 

While he was certainly enjoying his trip down memory lane, the steam billowing above the shower curtain told Brock that it was finally time to get washed up. So upon stripping out of his clothes, he took a moment to admire his muscular ass and above-average cock before stepping in and washing every inch of his broad and buff body. 

Once he had headed back to his bedroom and got dressed, he wasted no time grabbing onto his gym bag and making his way down to the kitchen. The area was rather hectic as Brock’s brothers were making a racket while Brad sat in the adjoined living room drinking coffee and watching ESPN. To Brock, this worked to his advantage though as he took the opportunity to sneak up on Braeden and do his usual headlock gag. 

“Pfft, Brock stop!” Braeden attempted to say, only to be stopped by finding his face coming face-to-face with Brock’s still slightly damp armpit. Chuckling as his young brother flailed in search of an escape, the buff older brother finally let go of Braeden and watched him fall back away from him. “Gosh bro, why do you always have to do this shit?” Braeden angrily said, trying to be intimidating but clearly failing due to his smaller build. 

“Because it’s funny when you whine like a bitch afterwards,” Brock said with a smirk, slugging his brother lightly in the shoulder before making his way over to the kitchen counter. Upon arriving, the stud began to instinctively make his usual morning protein shake before he headed off to the gym. Throughout this entire process, the two brothers were doe-eyed while talking to their brother. Clearly, despite his torment they still admired him and aspired to be as big as him one day. It was a pleasing thought to Brock as well, especially as he’s always desired to have the most respect out of anyone else in the room at all times. 

“So, when do you think you’ll finally let us be in one of your videos?” Brighton asked, trying his best to evoke puppy dog eyes while asking the same age-old question to his brother. Ever since he was 16, Brock had created social media accounts that documented his muscle growth and various routines. To his surprise though, his account “brocktherock” went super viral around his 18th birthday due to his hunkiness and affinity towards thirst trap videos, which quickly turned him into an overnight sensation. Before long, Brock had dropped out of college to embrace his workout dreams by turning his account into something that shared both knowledgeable workout tips and tricks along with consistent thirst trap material that always brought more people into his sizable following. 

With the creation of this “brocktherock” brand, this allowed him to quickly become quite wealthy from all of the brand deals, modeling gigs, and offers to pay for personal training he received. Although he still lived in his childhood home, the 26-year-old hunk was thinking strategically by living off of his father’s hard work and saving his cash until he could fully move out and buy a full place of his own. 

Returning back to the question posed, Brock shook his head and delivered the same response. “I don’t think you’re ready yet bud, maybe when you’re a bit bigger!” he said, cushioning the blow with a slight pat on the 18-year-old’s shoulder and a flash of his pearly white smile. As he turned off the blender and transferred the drink into one of his workout bottles, Brock quickly grabbed his bag and began to head towards the front door. 

Upon seeing his father though, Brock stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards him. “Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m heading to the gym to film another video. Gotta make sure to document all of these gains!” he said, chuckling to himself as Brad stared at him with intense fury in his eyes. But just as he began to move back towards the door, Brock stopped himself to give one final jab towards his father. “Hey pop, are you looking smaller than usual? I know it’s hard to stay buff at your age, but if you ever want any tips, I’m more than liking to help train you!” he smugly said, lifting up a bicep and flexing before finally making his exit from the house. 

While Brooke hadn’t intended for her wish to turn her into a shift into a buff stud even cockier than her dad and brothers, it was most definitely a necessary transformation. No more would she ever feel ignored or disrespected, especially when it came to her dad and brothers. The brothers adored Brock and essentially worshiped the ground he walked on while Brad was filled to the brim with jealousy and anger. He had always wanted a son to be athletic and hunky like him, but he never could have imagined that he could have ever created someone that was even more attractive and bigger than him!

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[babydipper]

Love potion

hi again it's me and some kind of sirius fluff to angst. have fun

Sirius didn't particularly hate the Potions class. 

He didn't like it, either. 

Most of the time, he just flowed through, wishing for it to end while listening to James' bickering about some ridiculously easy mixtures to make. Sirius wouldn't call brewing potions ridiculously easy to do, but as long as Prongs was doing almost everything, he didn't care. 

That day, Sirius was at the point of falling asleep, when somebody knocked on the door. 

"Come in," Slughorn called, and the entrance burst open.

A small girl went in smiling shyly. She looked absurdly tiny in her loose jumper and jeans. Sirius was bored enough to stare, especially when he saw the good, old Sluggy beam in excitement as if Christmas came earlier that year. 

"You've sent for me, professor?" she focused her sight directly on Slughorn. "Is there something wrong with my last essay?".

"No, no, on contrary, the calculations were brilliant," he shrugged her off. Sirius raised his brows. So that's who she was. The teacher's pet and a massive Potions' nerd. "I called because I have a letter for you". 

Sirius watched her move to the teacher with wide eyes, and judged. Comically small, as some kind of magical fairy. He wondered, if under short, brown hair she hid pointy ears and whether the excitement came from her receiving the letter from some kind of fairy Hogwart. She looked eleven, after all.

"You didn't open it?" she squealed. 

Slughorn shook his head. He was glowing. Sirius pitied the rest of the class who was too focused on the assignment to bother. They were losing such a show. 

The fairy opened her letter breaking the seal and Sirius couldn't help but be curious whether she got into the other Hogwart with her pointy ears or not. 

"Oh, Merlin," she mumbled giving Slughorn the paper with shaky hands. "I got in, professor". 

Slughorn read it once, then twice, and smiled proudly, "You got in".

"I got in," she repeated absent-mindedly. "I got in with my essay about the Wolfsbane Potion that was mostly built on my calculations and that I was so insecure about-".

"You were insecure about it?" Slughorn shook his head again, this time with disbelief. "I don't want to argue with you when you're confident, then".

Sirius felt a single string of happiness for the random fairy. At least her life was going well. Even though he only cared for her for a brief moment and would forget the face that seemed to be just like the rest of the faces seconds after the fairy would walk out of the room, it was nice to hear some good news for once.

She giggled in answer to the professor's words. But then, the realization hit her hard and she stopped, covering her mouth with tiny hands. 

"Do you know what it means?" she mumbly asked Slughorn.

"Fifty points for the Slytherin House!".

The string cracked. Sirius cringed. Of course, she was a snake. A snake, a fairy, a nerd, and the Sluggy's pet. 

"No, no. It means I have to brew it. My potion. The upgraded Wolfsbane Potion. I need to brew it during the Olympics. And it has to work".

Slughorn's face tensed, but he smiled, eventually.

"You will figure it out," he patted her shoulder. "Now, go back to whatever shenanigans you were up to".

She took the letter keeping it close to her chest and said her goodbyes, then left. Slughorn seemed sadder, suddenly, almost as if she was the only light in his life. The thought made Sirius smirk. 

The Wolfsbane Potion. He was sure he had heard the name before. He focused himself on Remus, who now was looking absent-mindedly at the door probably having heard the conversation as well, and it clicked. The Wolfsbane Potion. The one they wanted to brew for Moony last year and couldn't.

Abruptly, Sirius wished he could remember the face of the fairy. Because he had a plan. And she was a huge part of it.

It started the same day when he bumped into her calling it an accident but having himself looking for her for hours. His friends called him out with laughter about picking on younger girls and he played along, played with her.

Her name was Arete, she was two years beneath them, and, apparently, had a huge thing for Potions. She was cringy, had acne scars almost everywhere that caused Sirius to look away every now and then. 

And she was a Slytherin.

He claimed, he remembered her from entering the classroom and made small talk. She went along as if she didn't know his name. Sirius found out she didn't. It was nice for once to be unknown. 

He gritted his teeth when whispers started to reach his ears and said nothing. He kept his mouth shut, never telling anyone anything bad about their growing relationship. 

He was raised to be cunning, to pay every price for what he wants. They called him stubborn as if it was a trait, but Sirius was not born with the conviction that he deserved all he wished for. He was fed it. It was learned, a belief that the whole world belonged to him. That he could do anything because he always got what he wanted. 

And he wanted everything good for his friends.

So he kept his mouth shut, smiled at nerdy Slytherin, and went along with the plan for weeks. Arete was oblivious to gossip in the focus on her own ambition, Sirius was grateful for that. Her scrappy body in too big clothes slipped into his routine as well as his athletic one into hers. 

And, somehow, the well-calculated idea went to shit.

"Come on, Black," Arete laughed softly, trying to keep a pencil in the perfect balance on her nose, "you can't beat me!".

He giggled, too. They were goofing for some time now and, how much he didn't want to admit it, Arete was fun to be around. She never made him talk about anything, always waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to share. Her childish humor didn't seem so immature, once he got to know her.

She made him feel safe to the point when he forgot she was a Slytherin. 

"How do you keep your marks so high when all you do while studying is this?" he teased leaning his head onto a hand. Sirius watched Arete with a smirk.

The pencil toppled over with a tap and she whined in disbelief.

"I am just bright," she stated trying to place her current interest again onto her nose. "That's what Sluggy's saying".

She was smart, indeed. Sirius saw that in the way she understood concepts in the brief of time. If Arete considered something worth studying, she would get it. No matter what.

He laughed at her cockiness.

She still was trying to play. In that position, her freckles were showing and long lashes cast a shadow over her cheeks. The green sweater smelled like a forest and candy. Somehow, in her soft looks and playful attitude he found some strange need, and blurted:

"Would you go out with me?".

"Yeah, sure".

"I meant it as a date".

The pencil fell once again and she sighed, "Doesn't change a thing," Arete responded, finally giving up on playing, and looked at him. "I still don't mind going out with you".

Sirius' gaze met her deeply disturbing green eyes that he used to think of as not interesting, and smiled. 

It was the beginning of the end.

-

"We need to break up," Sirius announced in a whisper when Arete met him to deliver the promised potion. "I was...". 

What was he doing, actually? Sirius lost his words. Shutting his mouth, he tried to look away from her, but couldn't. It needed to be done. She was too pure, too good, too kind. He just couldn't lie to her for eternity. Whatever they had, it was all built on an illusion. She deserved something true.

What was the truth, anyway? Did he really despise her? Was she so annoying and cringy? Whether her jokes were cute or childish? Were her freckles and scares he traced gently with fingertips so many times simply ugly or what painted her image golden in his mind?  Was she so human and raw with every breath she took as he thought?

Maybe he needed time. Maybe he could think it over, and over. Maybe Sirius would find pretty words to tell her about the storm she caused in his head. 

He wished for months, suddenly. He got seconds.

It was done.

"You were using me. Yeah, I know," she moistened her lips awkwardly. "I have known for quite some time, being honest". 

Sirius froze. Her hair put in place with a green clip looked soft. He wanted to reach for it, place it between his fingers, and feel its texture, but he couldn't. 

Because she knew.

Sirius laughed nervously.

"Love, what are you saying?" he started, but she shook her head and gave out a sigh.

"Stop fooling around, okay? I know you probably don't even like me, Sirius. I am not stupid," she stated. The potion in his hands suddenly felt heavier. "I was naive to believe that maybe... maybe what they've told me was wrong. And that maybe you like me. But I knew that, at some point, you are going to leave with what you wanted from me".

She knew the gossip. She knew everything.

He dared to look into her leafy eyes that reminded him of Forbbiden Forest's moss. They were alike dangerous. If he stared for too long, they would absorb him and never let go. 

Funny how time changes everything. He used to think of her as something common, no threat. It did not take much time for him to become enslaved by her adoration. 

He wanted to breathe her love.

But he lied to her using his silver tongue, not even flinching. He had his goal and he wanted to reach it no matter what. So he used her, got the advantage of unfamiliar Slytherin kindness and constellations built of freckles on her cheeks. They brightened whenever he came by. 

He grew to be charmed by them but acted like he never saw.

"I just wondered what you wanted, Sirius," she spoke truthfully. "It has never crossed my mind that all you needed from me was a potion". He heard something dark in her voice and shivered. There was hurt in it, a deep one. He felt as if his heart was about to explode. "You could have just asked".

"Who you were talking to about me, Arete?" his voice cracked at the question. "Who told you I'd use you?".

"Does it matter? I have my finals soon, so just take this bloody potion and hand it to the werewolf for Merlin's sake!" she cried out finally, showing him how much she believed he would never hurt her. "Just give it to Remus and leave!".

He took a step back. 

"What are you talking about?".

"Oh, come on, it's so obvious! Stop playing dumb," she crossed her arms trying hard not to cry in front of him. It looked heart-breaking to him. She was petite.  "There's only five people you would do it for, Pettigrew, Lupin, Potter, yourself and, possibly, your brother. I know Regulus personally, we got drunk on the full moon. Crossing out Reg, it leaves me only with the infamous Marauders, and you can do the rest of the math". 

Sirius panicked. She knew all of his secrets, all of his lies. And he could do nothing about it. His heart pounded fastly in the chest.

"I can stay with you, I promise, just don't tell anyone. I beg you," he cried, causing her eyes to widen. 

"Is this what you think of me?" she whispered. "That I would expose him to the whole school? That I am so desperate to blackmail you into dating me?".

"No, of course not!" he tried to call it back, but the damage was done and the eyes he loved to look into were teary now. 

Arete didn't know when she started to cry, but the tears were rolling down her cheeks. She knew Sirius was going to do this, eventually. So why did it hurt so much? Why was she asking herself what possibly she could have done to be enough? 

"Tell Remus, I will brew it every month, and that his secret is safe," she blurted out quietly. "And go away. Please, just go away," she collapsed on the chair and Sirius wished for nothing but having her enfolded with his arms.

He couldn't. He couldn't just go and leave her, a sobbing mess he had created. It all started innocently. Sirius would find her freckles and acne pretty, even though he despised them before. He would stare at her a little longer than necessary and look for her in the crowd she used to blend in. 

And now, he belonged to her. 

She gave a home to the stray in her soft looks and witty attitude. In her rawness, he found a place for his doubts and wishes. She took every part of him without a second thought. She enjoyed him for who he was. She gave him everything he needed. 

In return, he broke her heart. 

Sirius shook his head, then run out of the Potions' classroom keeping that bloody Wolfsbane Potion close to the chest. The guilt was too much, consuming with the teary looks she gave him. He got drunk on her tears. They poisoned his body as much as his heart, and he felt them running in the veins, burning them from the inside. 

He found out he loved her.

He couldn't go, but he had to. She asked him to.

So he left.

Maybe Romeo was right to kill himself in response to not being able to marry Julie. Or maybe Paris of the Troy was sane in the slaughter he had done out of love. Sirius thought, how much it ruined everything, to be young and in love, and understood every creature that in its short reign on Earth had decided to laugh into God's face and do something human to the core for once. 

He understood why they had decided to fall. 

[giorno-plays-piano]

Come play with me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, home invasion, allusion to stalking and non-con.

Words: 1987.

Summary: Having to deal with Bucky Barnes, a talented head engineer who you have to convince cooperating with your boss, you suddenly discover his psychopathic tendencies. Worse, he has taken an eerie interest in you.

_______________________

“Listen, dear, I know what he asks for seems like something very inappropriate, but, in fact, the guy just likes you and-”

“No, Mr. Simons, he doesn’t just like me.” You snapped, bringing the cellphone closer your face. “This madman asked me to be at his disposal any time he wants. Please, don’t try to convince me it’s okay because this is madness.”

“I know, I know, he sounds like a psycho, but he’s not. Mr. Barnes is just... difficult. He needs to work on his communicational skills, he admitted it himself during our meeting today.” Your boss - or rather your ex-boss - was almost pleading you to listen to him, but you had enough of this nonsense. Nothing could change your mind after yesterday’s humiliating encounter with James Buchanan Barnes, the head engineer of HYDRA Corp.

“Sir, I have already submitted the resignation form. I perfectly understand the position you are in, but I’m not going to become a toy of this psychopatic man-child.” You answered firmly, looking at your lovely blue clock on the wall and knowing it was too late for any work calls. “Goodbye, Mr. Simons. Have a nice evening.”

Before he tried saying anything else to make you change your decision, you had turned your phone off and put it on your desk, sighing. You could never imagined one day you would face a situation like that.

Yes, when your boss got a promotion, you were truly happy for him. It also meant that you, his secretary, would now get a different type of tasks since you worked more like his personal assistant rather than someone who simply answered the phone calls and built his schedule. A raise was also quite nice. What you didn’t expect was having issues with Bucky, the genius the whole corporation knew about. He was that very same man HYDRA owed its success to as his innovative approach made the company widely known in the whole world for its - his - active protection systems. Barnes was now working on the brand new weapon system control, but he had never submitted sufficient reports, and, apparently, the previous executive left exactly because of Bucky and his wild temperament.

Despite the fact that he was a legendary figure, you had never met him or dealt with him directly. And since now Barnes became your boss’ pain, he became yours, too.

First, it was impossible to set a meeting with him directly. Mr. Simons wanted to take care of this issue himself and emailed Bucky multiple times, but always got the same dry answer that Barnes is too busy. Of course, he never answered any calls - until it was you calling him. Oddly, he was eager to talk to you. It took you just two calls to organize an online meeting for your boss, and, finally, yesterday you got to see the mysterious genius with your own eyes.

He was nothing like you expected. He wasn’t some skinny geek wearing glasses on his long nose, but a beefy man, his shoulders twice wider than your boss’. Barnes had dirty disheveled hair and a three-days beard, but, aside from that, he looked more like a star athlete rather than a nerdy engineer. He dressed in a pretty weird fashion, wearing tight t-shirts, leather pants, chains and heavy studded boots, but criticizing his style wasn’t a part of your job. You needed the reports he refused to submit and get him to attend the meetings.

Of course, he blamed everything on too many bureaucratic procedures and lack of time for anything but his new project. Even while speaking to the two of you he was pacing back and force in his laboratory, fetching this and that, fiddling with something that looked like a futuristic gun from one of Scott Ridley’s movies, his table full of screws and nails, markers, dirty papers, and metal parts of something you couldn’t recognize. Now you could see the true technological genius everyone was talking about.

However, you weren’t satisfied with the lack of information he was willing to give about his project. Barnes had a ridiculous amount of privileges, able to order whatever supplies he needed without anyone’s approval and working in a total secrecy, but HYDRA’s board of directors was growing tired of his reticence and temper tantrums Barnes was throwing every time someone tried to uncover his secrets. The career of your boss was at stake, and you needed Bucky to cooperate. You doubted the company would be willing to get rid of its most valuable employee, but the board of directors could easily limit his access to many of his beloved projects and make his life much more difficult.

Discussing the endless possibilities of what could happen if Barnes still refused to cooperate, you realized he wasn’t worried even the slightest bit. But he agreed to submit the reports if 1) he would get the team of engineers he picked by himself to help him with his project, regardless of whether they are involved with other things 2) he would get you “at his disposal any time he wanted”. Of course, at first you thought it was some kind of weird joke. Who in a right state of mind would ask for anything like this? You tried to laugh it off along with your boss, who was as shocked as you.

Then you figured out Barnes was dead serious. He wanted you.

Of course, you weren’t having it. Maybe your boss career was at stake, but it was his business, not yours. If the only thing he could offer you was being Barnes’ toy for the sake of the corporation, you would prefer to leave your place and find a position somewhere else.

How could he even suggest submitting to that psycho? Who did he think you were? A doll? A disposable Barbie or something? Even thinking of that was making you furious.

Sighing, you dropped your phone on the table and went to the kitchen to have a glass of wine. Despite the fact that you had already submitted the resignation form, you still needed to keep working before Mr. Simons would find a new secretary. It meant you would hear him pleading you to stay every day, and it wasn’t going to be nice. This damn Barnes made your life insufferable with just a couple of sentences.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep calling Bucky or trying to talk to some sense into him. Fuck that. Barnes was totally mad, and you weren’t having more of his bullshit.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and you stilled, growing in frustration. What the hell? You had to carefully put an empty glass back on the counter and move to your room again to take the phone. Glancing out of the window, you saw that it was just your apartment while others had light in them. Oh, perfect.

“Why do I pay for all this new technology that never works?” You growled in frustration, rooting around to find your phone.

“That’s a good question. To be honest, I wouldn’t.”

You froze. Somebody was in your room. Turning around quickly, you had finally found your phone and touched the screen - the subtle blue glowing lit Barnes’ gloomy face, and for a few seconds he narrowed his eyes as your phone blinded him.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered in terror, stepping away from him and visibly shaking. God, how did he get through the security system? You had just installed a pretty expensive one, made by...

By HYDRA Corp.

“You see, your security system has so many drawbacks I hacked it even without a proper preparation. You have to consider switching to something more solid.” He said calmly as he made a step towards you. In the darkness of the room he looked even more intimidating with his long dark hair hanging on his eyes, his huge figure looming over you as you ended up being pressed to the wall. “You know, since you were so enthusiastic in the beginning, I expected you to act... more professional.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were trapped between the wall and Barnes’ body as you stared into his face, terrified to the core. What was he doing here? Did he break into your home just because you refused him? Was he damn insane?

Oh yes. Yes, Barnes was.

“You know, we can have so much fun together if you just leave your pathetic boss and come play with me.” He tilted his head to the side, letting his disheveled hair fall on his broad shoulder and taking away the phone from your hand. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? I know how much you’re doing while Simons pretends it’s all him. Aren’t you tired of it?”

Well, it was true. Your boss had finally offered you a promotion after you would take care of Barnes issue, so you didn’t complain, waiting for your chance. It was all over now.

“And what do you suggest?” You asked, knowing you needed to somehow get away from this psycho and run to the door.

“Take care of me instead of him.”

You clenched your teeth as Barnes got closer, almost touching the tip of your nose with his, his icy blue eyes fixated on you. You felt the strong smell of cigarettes coming from him and winced from this unwanted intimacy. Barnes was too close to let you get away.

“What do you mean? I don’t think you need a secretary.” You played innocent, not looking him into eyes and staring at something on your right. Now your eyes almost adjusted to the darkness surrounding you.

“I can get you a better position, baby. A project manager, huh? You will ensure me and my team do things right.” His hot breath was burning your skin as Bucky nuzzled against your cheek, making you squirm. “You’ll be the one overseeing the development of a new system, and I get to have you close all the time. Besides, your paycheck gonna be way bigger. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t think I have sufficient skills for this job.” You mumbled meekly, squeezing your eyes shut when he put his hand on your shoulder gently. “The Corporation won’t allow me to take this position.”

There was a smug grin on his face. “Oh dear, you’re perfect for the job, I know it. And don’t you worry about the Board of Directors, I can be quite... persuasive.” As he smiled at you, you were ready to cry in front of him, so frightened and almost hysterical.

“What do you want from me, Barnes?” You pleaded in distress, tired and scared of the game he was playing with you.

He took your arm in his and made you move to the bed, forcing you to sit down while he hovered over you, brushing his long hair out of his face and tucking one of his locks behind the ear. Then Barnes cupped your chin with his hand, making you look directly at him.

“Come play with me, baby.” He cooed gently at you, wiping away a tear running down your cheek. “I want you close. Come to me. Talk to me. Have fun with me. I’m not asking much, am I?”

“We’ve only met yesterday. Why-”

You heard him chuckling and got silent immediately. You didn’t like that creepy smile on his face. Why did he look like you were wrong? You knew for sure you didn’t meet him before - who could possibly forget someone like Bucky Barnes - but his smile was telling you that he knew you from somewhere before your yesterday’s encounter. Where else could he meet you? You had no idea.

“It’s alright, dear. You’ll have enough time to know me better.” Barnes whispered, rubbing your chin with his thumb and closing the distance between the two of you. “We’re gonna have lots of fun together.”

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​   ​@helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ ​@void-hoechlin​ @abyssaint​ @heeeyitskay​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @soleil-dor​ @iheartsebastianstan​

[mythgirlimagines]

After seeing the glowing reputation of the Things That Never Happened talentswaps by the fellow Anons, I decided to try this again! Introducing the hybrid setter-spiker-libero superstar and the Former Ultimate Volleyball Player, Myth!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

With two older siblings who had past experience with volleyball, Myth has been taught by her sisters ever since she was little. The constant practice with her older sisters made her a practical powerhouse, by the time she made it to middle school. Her passion for volleyball, despite her diminutive height, drove her to attend Hatohane Girl’s Academy, a high school famous for their prestigious powerhouse of a volleyball team. Within days of attending the club, she proved herself to be a formidable ally and an even more formidable enemy, for she is able to assimilate herself into just about any position on the court, even positions that require height (for she has one of the most impressive verticals, this side of the academy). Her enemies consider her a “wild card”, for she is utterly unpredictable in her gameplay, and you better believe that she wears her title on her sleeve. In fact, she once played against an entire team, while her other teammates are out sick, and she managed to wipe the floor with them. This action alone is what catapulted her into stardom and granted her a spot at Hope’s Peak Academy. In her adult years, she’s working hard at a top-tier professional girl’s team, known as the Sunset Pegasi. But she is currently taking some time off to chaperone this year’s Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Carpenter

Wyre has been Myth’s volleyball teammate ever since middle school (as a wing spiker), and has been her best friend for even longer, thanks to their similar competitive natures, despite Wyre’s wild and expressive personality clashing heavily against Myth’s stoic and disciplined personality. The natural muscles they got from working at thejr father’s carpentry shop really made them a valuable asset in just about any sport they put their mind to, with volleyball being a major favorite of theirs. Imagine Myth and Wyre’s mutual elation, when they both got accepted into Hope’s Peak. Wyre was so elated, that they carved a large wooden sculpture of the two of them holding hands in victory.

Outfit: A purple stripe in her hair that matches Myth, protective orange goggles, an orange and brown flannel shirt, a dark brown leather tool-belt, blue jeans, off-white socks, brown steel-toed boots.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Screenwriter

Famous for screenwriting in both action media and horror media, Scar originally wanted to be an actress, but her natural stage fright meant that she had to settle for behind-the-scenes work. Luckily for her, she proved to be excellent at both sketching out action/horror scenes and writing the very scene out, making her the mastermind behind several recent blockbuster movies. In an attempt to “fake it until she makes it”, Scar tries to project the personality of her favorite archetypes: “The Dark Lord of Script”. But as Myth very quickly figured out, she’s not doing a particularly good job of it, for when she shows concern for her conmates (which is all the time, by the way), her true personality resurfaces.

Outfit: A black and white striped sweater, a purple and red vampire cape, a matching long skirt, stockings, boots and gloves from original design.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Linguist

As a child, Fusion showed a surprising aptitude and interest in the countries of the world, with their languages and their food being what he mainly specializes in. Fusion’s parents quickly signed him up for language courses, and time after time, Fusion picked up the languages left and right. As of his acceptance, Fusion can speak ten languages on a conversational level, and can read and write in twice as many languages. Fusion is currently running a foreign language tutoring business, and even holds seminars at the Kibo-Con for the other Ultimates. Myth thinks that Fusion’s seminars would be a valuable asset, for when she’s playing against international teams, so her attendance is perfect.

Outfit: A grey bomber jacket with country flags lining his sleeves, black fingerless gloves, red and white sneakers, glasses, undershirt and pants from his original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Hiker

Famous for besting mountains many people claim to be impossible, the numerous selfies that Fusion II takes of her travels all prove her claims that she bested the tallest of mountains, all with the signature smirk on her face. But despite the confidence and charisma she carries in her selfies, she actually has a massive nerdy side that she would much rather keep hidden. Myth found it confusing on how two Anons could share the same name, but based on the father-daughter behavior that occurs between the two Fusions, Myth has a hypothesis made. That being said, Myth shows respect for her kohai, and will always be there to boost up Fusion II’s ego, whenever she’s feeling down.

Outfit: Diamond-crusted sunglasses, a light blue parka with white fluff and matching winter gloves, brown cargo pants, matching steel-toed boots.

Just Anon, Ultimate Tree Climber

Originally climbing trees to escape teachers and other bothersome individuals, Janon was eventually nicknamed “Chameleon”, for his extraordinary skills in climbing up and camouflaging himself in the trees. While Myth normally has an inhuman amount of patience regarding more defiant and disrespectful underclassmen, Janon’s blatant disrespect towards his all his senpais (apart from the gardener), makes her want to spike a volleyball directly into his face. But upon seeing Janon interact with and actually showing affection and respect towards his kohais, Myth gained a newfound respect for Janon, that she never thought she would gain. If only Janon could start respecting his senpais.

Outfit: A camo-colored army helmet and matching hoodie, brown pants and black boots.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Sprinter

With a bombastic, loud, and flashy appearance and the personality to match, it’s very hard to miss the appearance of Sparkle, when she is on the racing track. Sparkle is particularly known across the internet for sprinting in ridiculous costumes, in order to assist charities across the world. Myth was happy, upon finding out that she would be accompanied in her chaperoning by a fellow athlete, even if their personalities are like oil and water. They regularly meet in the Kibo-Con gym to exercise, while exchanging fitness plans and mutually fangirling over each other, for they’ve both seen each other‘s competitions, and are impressed by what they’ve seen from each other. 

Outfit: Hair in a bob being held by a red and white headband, a red and white sparkling tank-top with her name on the front and blue sparkly shorts, long white socks, and shoes that match her tank-top, a black and white checkered flag slung over her shoulders like a cape.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Gardener, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Liar

Famous for managing one of the largest and most breathtakingly gorgeous botanical masterpieces ever known to man, Egg was introduced to Myth as an only child. But what Myth doesn’t know, is that, in interviews, Egg pulls the classic “twin-switch” trick and has their twin Wet Sock masquerade as them, while blowing up their reputation with lies of commission and omission. Even in their stay at the Kibo-Con, the duo regularly intact the twin switch to such an extent that most Anons didn’t even know of Wet Sock’s existence (apart from Eldritch, but nobody believes him, because, well, he’s Eldritch), and passing off the times Wet Sock’s been seen out of costume as morning-induced delirium.

Outfit: A straw hat, a yellow and green flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans with dirty knees and green gloves and matching rain boots

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Finder

After their classmates realized that Curious had an excellent eye for details and a helpful and altruistic spirit, they quickly used Curious like their personal finder for lost objects. Eventually, Curious got paid to help people from all around their hometown find lost objects, pets, and even people. Myth has quite the watchful eye, so she barely, if ever, needs Curious’s help in finding objects that she happened to misplace. But she is willing to misplace objects on purpose, if it means getting a smile and a look of pride and accomplishment on the face of her kohai. Curious reminds Myth of some of her kohais: desperate for praise and lives for validation. 

Outfit: A black gakuran with a magnified glass clipped to their belt and a matching hat and shoes.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Sharpshooter

With an unparalleled bullseye streak and temper issues of an equally unparalleled caliber, Anon Nerd is a name to be feared in competitions, and for good reasons, considering Nerd’s volcanic temper and sheer skill at shooting targets despite that. If someone even slightly wrongs him, they risk getting shot with one of his prized rifles. Considering Myth’s stoic and composed attitude and Nerd being the complete opposite, one would think that they would never get along. But, shockingly enough, Nerd considers Myth to be the only one (apart from the other Brain Cells), to not be a complete and utter dolt. They regularly like testing their accuracy in each other’s sports, with Myth faring better at shooting.

Outfit: A brown and dark green bomber jacket, red tinted sunglasses, blue jeans, brown sneakers, a red rifle strapped to his back.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Tattoo Artist

Growing up in one of the seediest underground communities, rife with scum and villainy, Eldritch is famed all around town for his skill in tattooing the people of his town with anti-government and pro-anarchy tattoos on visible parts of their body, as protest to the government that put them in this horrible condition in the first place. Eldritch can’t trust anybody who doesn’t have a special tattoo inked by Eldritch himself, up to and included his own conmates. He especially can’t trust Myth and her stoic and unpredictable demeanor. The thought of one of her kohais being scared of her brings Myth to internal tears. Myth is currently attempted (unsuccessful) senpai-kohai trust exercises.

Outfit: Hair being completely shaved on the right side, black eyeshadow, a black sleeveless hoodie that shows off his various anti-government tattoos, blue jeans and knee-high black boots.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Confidant

Known around her school as the most trustworthy girl her schoolmates know, Dream organized a secret room in the school, in case any of her classmates need to talk about their secrets and vent to an optimistic and loving role model figure. Ever since Dream met Myth, her idol in athletics, she knew that her senpai had common ground with her, for they both share a passion for volleyball and show endless support to each other. Besides, Dream always wanted to crack the tough nut and unpredictable beast that is the Iron Wall of Hatohane. Surely, someone as stoic and unmovable as Myth must have some secrets and she’ll always be there to support her senpai in a rough patch.

Outfit: A dark grey ski cap with heart pins on it, a pink and grey hoodie over a black shirt with a red heart on the front, shorts, socks and shoes from her original design.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Surfer

As the daughter of two parents who own the local beach house, Iris has been living by the ocean ever since she was little, and she has efficiently mastered the art of catching the biggest and most gnarly of waves, earning her the attention of entire fleets of preteen ladies, which is also helped by her adorable personality and her adoration of marine biology. Iris’s passionate and optimistic attitude reminds Myth of some of her younger kohais and for that reason, Myth attached herself to the cheery water-lover. Being a fellow athlete helps matters. Myth also introduced Iris to beach volleyball, and Iris was more or less a complete natural. Needless to say, Myth was impressed at her kohai taking on her craft.

Outfit: Hair tied into rings, pink swim goggles, a pink swimsuit top, a galaxy printed sarong around a matching pink swimsuit bottom, galaxy printed flipflops.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Emergency Planner

As the daughter of only the biggest CEOs in the entire nation, Purple learned of the dangers that many people in the large and cramped offices face on a daily basis. From there, Purple knew that she had to take matters into her own hands, and begin stocking up and preparing for every work emergency under the sun, whether that’ll be economic or physical. These duties instilled her with a timid attitude and a natural motherly instinct, and of course, that’ll extend to her conmates and chaperones. Every time Myth gets injuries on or off the court, Purple would always be right behind her, with her medical kit in tow, as well as a healthy (if needlessly verbose) reminder to not overwork herself. 

Outfit: An off-white hard hat, a black safety vest over a purple sweater, a black and white striped skirt with a fully-stocked emergency belt, purple stockings, black boots.

This series would center around everyone getting to know the stoic iron wall, who secretly has a soft spot for all of her dorky kohai.

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PERSONALITY

Volleyball!Myth is known by her opponents as an utterly unpredictable beast, but to her teammates, she is heavily supportive and kind-hearted, despite her quiet and stoic demeanor, which clashes heavily against her more loud and flashy appearance. She has a particular soft spot for her kohais, and loves it when people show respect and look up to her. In a height-dominant sport like volleyball, Volleyball!Myth used to have hangups regarding her height, but constant support from her family and middle school teammates gave her the much-needed confidence boost to strut onto the court in all of her 5 FT 3 IN glory. Volleyball!Myth is surprisingly hard on herself, for she spends practically all of her time practicing, claiming that she still has room for improvement and needs to push herself even harder. Only her childhood friend Carpenter!Wyre can convince her to chill out and take a break for once. 

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APPEARANCE

Volleyball!Myth wears her natural brown hair in a ponytail with a purple skunk stripe down the middle and also wears black sports glasses. Volleyball!Myth simply wears the uniform of the Sunset Pegasi, which consists of the following: a blue jacket over an orange jersey with a yellow sun design and a big number “6” on the front, shorts that match her jersey and red shoes with white soles and laces.

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Luckily, I was able to use all of my Haikyuu knowledge to help write Myth. In Haikyuu terms, Myth is like a mix between Nishinoya, Aone, Ushijima and Tendou (with Hinata’s height and vertical). I hope that you like this swap, and I’d love to hear what the others think of it!

-Fusion Anon

[nachohypno]

Nate and Dave Ch. 12

I feel like weekends are particularly exciting ever since Dave started hanging out with me, like a week or two ago. Is it bad that I already forgot how life was without a werewolf soulmate looking out for me? I feel like I’ve known him for my entire life, and he just moved to the town like two years ago.

Back to what I was saying. My ‘dates’ with Dave consisted of going to the forest and just having a good laugh, or staying at his/my room and cuddling a lot. At school, it was a bit more difficult, due to reasons you may already know.

But, we’re coming to terms with our relationship and veeeeery slowly, we’re opening up for the public.

That’s also what I had planned for today’s date. A good sunny Saturday noon, perfect for spending the day with the guy I love in a public place like the shopping street.

Besides, I’d like to resume my little investigation project. I already know about Dave’s behavior at school, he acts like he owns the place and he pretty much does. At the forest, he apparently feels at ‘his element’ with his inner wolf. In the bedroom, or more specifically, in the bed, he’s a king.

Out in the real world… He’s still good. Surprisingly, the guy was apparently born to be the best.

I didn’t put much effort on my looks. A plain purple shirt and some jeans would do the trick. When the time to leave had come, Dave waited for me in his car in front of my house. The jock ditched his varsity jacket in favor of a black tank top and sunglasses. He looked pumped up, so I wondered if he just left the gym or something.

“Ready to hit the forest? Pretty ready to fetch the stick today” He said, as I entered the car and sat down. He pulled me in for a kiss, before finishing with a swift “Or I could fetch your stick, bruh… If ya catch my drift.”

“Well, while that sounds interesting” I could see his smile growing a little. “… I thought about having a change of plans. Wanna go to the shopping street we got your collar at?”

“Uh… yeah… but I thought we were trying to avoid being together out in public?” The jock asked, confusion was pretty clear in his voice. “I mean, not that I care, just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—”

“And I’m not! If anything, I don’t think I’ve been pretty fair with you by asking to keep our thing a secret. And we’re both adults so… there shouldn’t be a problem with us just… hanging out and doing goofy boyfriend stuff?” I replied. I wasn’t lying, I did feel bad sometimes when I thought about how I would feel if my boyfriend asked me to act like I didn't know him.

And luckily, Dave wasn’t going to complain. He took off the sunglasses and looked at me with his beautiful blue puppy eyes.

“I love doing goofy boyfriend stuff with you,” He said, the flirty tone returning. “and if anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll protect you. Nothing to worry ‘bout, it’ll be a perfect date!” Dave put on his glasses once again, before grabbing the wheel and starting to drive away from my house.

‘Okay, too late to go back now. I’m doing this for him!’ I thought, reassuring myself that it was the right thing to do. Of course, we could wait until high school is over in a few couple months, but I felt like Dave would love to have me around during his ‘king of the school’ years. Kinda sure he’ll take back that role at college, but maybe it’ll ease the ‘blow’ for everyone when we go to the prom together?

…Not like anyone will say anything though, the big guy has the whole place on his paw!

Geez, being the soulmate of the alpha jock in school is the best thing ever. I just love him so much!

------

We got around the shopping street quite fast. Dave is a good driver, and focuses on the driveway to avoid causing an incident. Every time we stop at a light, he likes to take a few moments to check on how I’m doing or to make some nice chit chat.

The jock parked once we arrived, and reached over to grab his stuff at the glove compartment (Taking the chance to steal a quick kiss from me before hopping out of the car).  I smiled, and followed him out of the car.

As any other normal Saturday, the shopping street was pretty crowded. Different girls and guys going around in couples or groups, some people handing out pamphlets or performing in the middle of the street. You could even see people dressed as famous cartoon characters and taking pictures with the children.

Dave intertwined his hand with mine. It gave me a bit of the chills, causing me to pull back and leave his hand there.

I couldn’t see Dave’s eyes due to the sunglasses, but he seemed to be sad and confused at my sudden change of mind. “I-I’m… sorry…” I said, before grabbing Dave’s hand again, and holding on to it.

“Everythin’ okay?” The werewolf asked, looking at me with concern. I nodded, slowly. “Yeah, just a reflex. Still haven’t gotten used to this, huh.”

We both sighed in relief, starting to walk towards the shops past the parking lot.

I wished I could see his eyes through the sunglasses though. Not gonna lie, his attire was pretty hot (Kind of inappropriate due to the incoming winter, but I assumed he wasn’t cold at all). And I feel like I could have done better myself…

“What’re we doing today, bruh?” He asked, as we walked away from the car.

I haven’t thought about that. Shit.

I looked around, quickly. I couldn’t come up with anything good, and just threw the first thing that clung to my mind. “I thought we could… buy some new clothes…?” It was lame and I wanted the earth to eat me.

But, Dave agreed with me. “Sure. Sounds like good fun.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but the jockboy just stared at me and waited for my reaction.

“Wait, you’re okay with it?”

He nodded, his smile growing bigger. “I mean, Lee used to drag me with her and make me hold her bags. I won’t mind if my soulmate wants to do the same, and I love spending time with you so… I think it’ll be fun, babe.”

Okay, I’m not a big ‘fashion fan’ or whoever it’s called. As you may have seen, I don’t pay much attention to my appearance besides the normal stuff to being seen as a respectable townie.

You’ll usually see me wearing nerdy tees with cartoons or jokes printed on them, paired with some jeans or shorts depending on the time of the year. I don’t have a body to show off, being pretty average with my not-really-big belly but not thin either.

Dave, on the other hand, looked good with anything. He does have the body to show off, and I assume that was helping his confidence quite a bit (Maybe besides the point that he can crack anyone’s skull if he gets mad enough at them).

We entered a men clothing store. The place was pumping some background music, but it wasn’t loud enough to be annoying and make me not hear my own thoughts.

The people behind the counter barely noticed us, until a woman that seemed to be in her thirties waved and said something like “Hey guys, looking for something in particular?”

“Not really, just gonna check around with my bruh” Dave answered, giving me a good smile before taking off his sunglasses and placing them at the tank top’s neck. Maybe he didn’t want to seem like an asshole who wears sunglasses at interiors? Who knows.

He stared at me for a bit longer, before moving to a few racks of tees and pants. I didn’t know what he was looking for, I was mildly paralyzed because I haven’t thought so far ahead. I took a long deep breath, before regaining my cool and walking over to Dave. “Saw something cool?”

The werewolf jock nodded, taking a green tee that seemed a bit fitted for my taste, and some leggings. “Wanna try these out? Bet ya look great on these.” Man, he seemed to be enjoying this shopping stuff more than I. Not gonna pop his bubble though.

“Uhm… sure, I’ll give them a try.” I answered, grabbing what he had picked for me and walking over to a few dressing stalls at another room, next to the bathrooms.

I felt a bit ridiculous, honestly. I undressed and left my regular clothes on a little bench, before putting on what Dave picked for me. ‘If he picked something for me, then I get to pick something for him, right?’ I thought to myself.

“Hey, Dave?” I called for him, but got no answer. Huh, maybe he’s a bit far? That doesn’t make sense though, he has heightened senses!

A minute or so later, the guy entered the dressing stall and looked at me. “Hey, lookin’ pretty good.” He said, almost whispering. I don’t know if they allow two people to be in the same stall, but we can just pass as two bros helping each other out, right?

“Huh, y’think so? Never used fitted tees before.” It didn’t look half as good as it would look on Dave. Never been too athletic, so I had nothing to show off, as mentioned before.

“I mean, you look great with everything, even better when you wear nothing, babe” That was a bit of a lame flirting attempt, but still, highly appreciated. I looked at myself in the mirror, and he took advantage of the moment to wrap his arms around me. “Should I leave or—”

“No, it’s cool. I like it here…” I tried to move my head to face him, but he surprised me with a mouth invasion. I loved everything about it. The taste, his smell, his movements, everything was great. “…I like you” I changed my words at the last second after the kiss was over.

“I love you, my soulmate. And hey, you look really good in those clothes.” A quick smooch on my cheek before letting go of me. “Mind if you pick something for me? Be fun about it if ya want, I’ll take whatever you choose.” Great! Just as I expected!

And he gave me an idea. One that would activate my dom vein. “Really? Huh… Wanna be a good puppy boy and zone out for me, then?”

It didn’t take any effort from my part.

Dave zoned out like he usually did, tongue lolling out and blankly looking forward. “Let’s see… drop the shirt and give me a good smile” I ordered, hoping that there wouldn’t be people at the other stalls or an employee next to us.

Of course, Dave did as told, revealing his sculpted body with short fuz (He likes to keep himself smooth, but being a werewolf can make that hard, apparently) as his tongue went back in. His face now showed a perfect dumb smile.

“What size of clothing do you wear, puppy boy?” I whispered.

“I wear L, bruh…” He mumbled his answer before his face became stiff once again. Walking out of the stall but making sure the curtain was well closed so no one would wander in and find the dazed werewolf, I went towards the clothing racks.

I wasn’t planning on playing the fashionista nor anything but… A red speedo was the first thing I grabbed. I don’t know if they’re good for using them as a normal underwear but Dave would look hot on them.

A bright yellow long sleeved shirt that seemed pretty fit, combined with some black jean shorts. He would look funny, probably. It was his request!

After grabbing the clothes, I walked back to the dressing stalls and entered Dave’s. Luckily, the shop’s employees seemed to be busy drinking coffee and gossiping at the counter.

Dave still looked perfect. And seeing him in his zoned out state always made my cock twitch for a bit. I smiled at the perfect view, and gave him a quick kiss.

“Now, strip naked, big guy” I ordered, still in whispers. He didn’t answer, but did as I said. Soon, he was showing off his body in all his naked glory. His cock was rock hard, of course. My puppy boy was always ready for action!

“Put this on” I handed him the red speedo, and he moved almost robotically, with lazy movements, as he got the speedo to cover his big junk.

…It was still completely visible though, so it wouldn’t do a good job without something on top of it. “Wait… let me pose you, got it?” Dave nodded. I grabbed his arms and made him flex, like some kind of statue or mannequin. He still had his dumb smile and blank stare, so he looked like some kind of beach boy.

“Good puppy boy,” I praised him, scratching the back of his ear. He didn’t react to it, but I guess he would appreciate the praise. “Now, these ones…” I handed him the shorts and shirt.

Okay, I have an awful fashion sense, but he still managed to look really hot. The shirt clung tightly to his body muscles, and the jeans managed to hide the big erection that escaped the speedo.

I grabbed his arms again, and made him pose like the “I had to do it to ‘em” meme, just for a good laugh.

“You can wake up now, puppy boy” I mumbled, and stared as he regained his senses.

“Whut… How’d it go?” Dave tried to ask, before looking at himself in the mirror. “Damn… Do I look hot?”

“You always do, big guy.”

“I know, but do I look hot to you? You’re the one that matters here.” Aww. I felt myself blushing a bit, before nodding.

“You look stunningly hot.” I replied. He leaned in for another long kiss, before we changed off the clothes. We still had to pay for them!

“Huh, never thought about a speedo,” He mumbled, before looking at me. “Now I wanna do a pool party or something like that, bruh.”

I chuckled, then finished changing into my old clothes. Dave grabbed my new clothes and quickly walked towards the counter. “I’ll pay for everything, don’t ya worry.” The jock said, before I could reject his offer.

He was already offering his card to the employees, so it was too late to stop him, right?

A few minutes later, he waited for me at the entrance with some bags. “Wanna get some lunch?” He asked, walking away from the store, a few bags on his hands.

 ---------

 The jock sat in front of me, taking off his sunglasses and leaving them hanging from the tank top’s neck again. His plate had two big burgers, each one with three meats. “Werewolves are hungry all the time, or do you just love food?” Uh, that’s a horrible thing to ask anyone. “Not judging, just curious…” Saved it!

He gave me a smile. “Huh, never thought about it. I do love food, and my wolf metabolism lets me eat whatever I want with barely any consequence on my good physique. Bang!” He finished his explanation flexing both arms.

I chuckled, making a mental note. Dave reached out for his burger before adding a quick “Don’t get surprised if I eat too much, most of my family works like that, bruh.” And giving a bite to the burger.

I looked at my own burger, and started eating too.

Honestly, so far, being a werewolf sounds like a good thing. I don’t know if Dave’s hotheaded personality is tied to his alpha/werewolf status or it’s just who he is, though.

We barely spoke, due to our mouths being filled with delicious meat. I could tell that Dave enjoyed his meal, but he also looked very intently at me and tried to make funny faces every time our eyes crossed paths.

It made me laugh, not going to lie. I was having a good time, overall!

Well… until…

A young girl approached us, probably around our age? She looked like a student, but I don’t recall seeing her at the hallways. Maybe a sophomore or junior?

She was nervous, that was clear. “Heeeey, how’s the meal going?” The girl was cute. She had braided black hair and olive skin. Her accent made me think she was Latina, but I wasn’t sure.

Dave was the first one to answer, due to swallowing his burger faster than I. “Uh, pretty good”

I don’t want to be the jealous weirdo, but I was mildly afraid he may be checking her out. ‘You’re his soulmate’ I reassured myself. The girl was, of course, not interested in me at all, which added more salt to the wound.

“So, umm… This is awkward buuuut… may I get your number? My friends over there” She pointed to a table meters away from ours, a group of three girls staring at us “made a bet and… geez, I fucked up, right?”

‘Kinda, yeah.’ I thought, looking over at Dave and hoping he would take care of the situation.

Before giving out an answer, the big guy looked at me and his smile went down for a bit. “Look, I wouldn’t really mind but… I’m pretty much taken and we’re in the middle of something here.” I was screaming inside, feeling so proud of the puppy boy!

The girl’s face turned red, and quickly started to apologize as she slowly backed away. Dave didn’t stop looking at her until she was far enough. Then, he spoke.

“Your face is so easy to read, babe.” He threw at me, mockingly, after the girl was gone. “Don’t worry, not gonna ruin our special day, my love.”

“I know, I know. Couldn’t help but feel a bit… annoyed?” I shook my head “Anyway, not important. Where would you like to go now?”

“Babe, you’re important, the most important thing in my life,” Dave answered, reaching out to touch my hand and softly caress it. “And honestly? Kinda glad to see you worried about me. Makes me way more glad to have gotten you this!”

He reached down to his pocket and took a little package. “Bought this when you were trying out stuff. Thought it would be a neat detail, after you gifted me a puppy boy collar!”

I grabbed the little package and carefully opened it. Inside, two necklaces lied. A locket with a keyhole on the middle, and a key, both necklaces being held with each their own chains. “I tried to look for something with meaning, and which better thing than something that… uh…” The jockboy tried to explain a bit more, but I could tell that he was out of ‘smartsy words’ already.

“I own the key to your heart?” I asked, grabbing both pieces and handing him the locket part.

“Yeah! Oh, wait. Open it first, bruh.” He handed it back to me, and I proceeded to open the small locket.

Inside of the locket, a little note could be read. ‘My heart, body and mind belongs to my lovely soulmate Nate Hall —David Walker’. “The store’s clerk looked weirded out when I wrote that. Also, sorry for not being there when you called for me.” He finished, as I closed the locket again. Huh, so that’s where he was.

Needless to say, my face was red. Like, completely red. I’ve been hearing Dave the mean jock saying cheesy lines for the past few weeks, but he surpassed himself this time. He was the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for, no need to struggle against that now.

I’ve never been one to express many emotions, especially when around a crush or romantic interest. Never got the confidence to actually express them.

It was different now.

“I… I really like it. You’re the best!” I handed him his locket and placed the key necklace around my neck.

“Nah, your collar was a better gift, I think. I have a hard time picking gifts, but that one seemed like a good one.” He shrugged, probably trying to take importance from the fact that my lovely puppy boy seemed a softie. I loved when he acted like that, though. Dave is really sweet when he wants to be.

Dave placed the locket necklace around his neck. I don’t know if it would interfere with the bowser collar when we play in private, but I didn’t care. Dave always tried to do nice stuff for me, his soulmate, and I think I should start to reciprocate a bit more often.

“So, you get to pick where we go next,” I told him, trying to change the subject. I was out of words already, and I didn’t want to get too cheesy in the middle of the street. I was really thankful, though. “Any ideas?”

“While going out and shopping with you has been way better than what I thought…” I noticed he still had to get through his second burger. He gave it a huge bite before swallowing and finishing his sentence. “I think I’d prefer to head home now. My home, with you, and a pair of beers, by the pool. Sounds like a plan? I could even make good use of that amazing speedo you got me.”

The idea of an almost naked Dave wearing a speedo made me giggle a bit. I stole a fry from his plate and nodded. “Sounds like a plan” I don’t drink, but I could use some relaxation time with the best jock in the world.

-------

Chapter 13 is already available in my Patreon!  And by pledging you also get access to other stories before they go public!

[go-events]

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @madeofmydreams

The wonderful @madeofmydreams has claimed High School Musical to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material!

About High School Musical: Troy Bolton (Zac Efron), the star athlete at a small-town high school, falls for nerdy beauty Gabriella Montez (Vanessa Anne Hudgens) at a holiday karaoke party. When they return to campus, Troy and Gabriella audition for the upcoming school musical. Meanwhile, the jealous Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale) conspires to squelch their chances. The two must struggle to make it to auditions while also meeting their existing obligations to the basketball team and the academic decathlon.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @madeofmydreams a little better!

* * *

goromcom: You know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you "post about #earl grey cream and #good omens." Those are two things I can get behind.

madeofmydreams: I love tea! Earl grey cream is my favorite I also love stories/writing and fan fiction and GO is quite lovely. I am a fan of TOS, Fullmetal Alchemist, Teen Wolf, and Sherlock as well inside of fandom and about a billion stories outside.

goromcom: You chose to adapt High School Musical as your rom com. Has this property been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it?

madeofmydreams: So I was a little older when High School Musical came out, but my little sister was smack dab at the target age for Disney channel and I've always enjoyed singing. So we learned all the songs and watched it enough that we had our own copy. I honestly didn't do any prep before getting it even though I had it listed as my first choice. It just seemed like fun.

goromcom: What's your favorite moment of your chosen rom com, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

madeofmydreams: So the song when [spoilers for High School Musical] Gabriella has just overheard Troy telling the guys that she's just some girl and he doesn't care about her has always hit me in this very emotional way. [end spoilers] There's all this self deprecating longing that I really identify with. It's a little silly because I'm grown and married to someone who loves me dearly and excites me daily but I still very much identify with being the odd one who didn't realise they weren't wanted. I definitely want to incorporate that moment into my fic! We won't end there though.

goromcom: Do you plan to stick very closely to the story beats of the original movie, or make bigger changes?

madeofmydreams: I want to change my movie a bit, partly because the pacing of the movie is a bit fast for me; but also because I want to surprise people with fresh ideas and thoughts. Not just another Gabriella & Troy and not just another way Aziraphale & Crowley got together. That being said, I'm keeping some of the ridiculousness without apology or explanation. I'm excited to see how it all shakes out!

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

madeofmydreams: So I wanted Az to be Gabriella because of a mutual love of books and I think Crowley makes sense as Troy (particularly when you factor in the rooftop garden scene) but something that might be more unexpected is casting Adam in Kelsie 's role (the pianist who works with the drama club.)

goromcom: I am blatantly stealing this last question from The Good Place: The Podcast, but here goes: Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

madeofmydreams: I've been practicing doing my nails at home and I'm finally good enough at it that they look professionally done! It makes me happy to look down at my fingers while I'm swiping on my phone, folding laundry, or reading to my children and see pretty nails. It's a little piece of joy and beauty sprinkled throughout my day.

[min-hyyun]

Rivalry Into Love: PT.2

summary: Hwang Minhyun. the smart, athletic, talented student of One Academy. Now take Minhyun, and turn him into a girl version. yep, now you have Y/N Y/L/N. these two have been rivals ever since their childhood, but when one of them starts to grow feelings, what will happen to the two and the battle for 1st place?

genre: fluff, soft angst

a/n: here’s the long-awaited part 2 for Rivalry Into Love !! the format for this scenario will be fully written without bullet points :)  im starting to use this way of writing way more often now compared to when i started this blog and wanted to try different things out. I’m more comfortable showcasing my writing this way, so I hope u guys understand !!

PT.1

—

Today officially marked exactly one week since you had confessed to Minhyun, and you never felt more embarrassed in your life. Your mom finally forced you out of your bed after realizing that you weren't actually sick with the fever, but that you were flustered and distressed because of a one-sided crush. And as if she didn’t want you to feel better, she added in the occasional, “It’s okay! Just because you didn’t get Minhyun doesn’t mean that you won’t get any of the other nerdy boys!”

So here you were, throwing your notebooks into your bag and sliding into your jacket as your mom watched you, unimpressed with one eyebrow high up in an arch.

“Y/N, don’t be like this. If worst comes to worst, he’ll just ignore you! Just focus on studying, okay?” you nodded glumly, walking out into the breezy spring air as your heart beated faster with each step you took. You felt hot despite the fast wind blowing through your hair. It would only be minutes before you reached your school where you could either be completely and utterly embarrassed again, or spared by the gods. One step. Two steps. Three steps. You took a breath again, furrowing your brows. I hate you, Minhyun. You sighed. But I like you, too.

You didn’t even notice that in the midst of your subconscious walking, you made it to the school and was standing in front of its large gates. The laughter and smiles of students in the year above and below you welcomed you, but it didn’t make you feel better. In fact, it almost made you sick to your stomach, as you imagined Minhyun laughing at you like that.

You hoped not to meet him at all. If things were to not go your way, you would run and never look back. You meant it.

A short call out for your name startled you out of your thoughts. “Y/N!” Your whipped around in the wind to see Minhyun, waving at you with an awkward smile. Gasping, you began to dash the other way, pretending not to see him. His voice was heard a few more times after before you assumed he gave up. Letting out a sigh of relief, you slowed your pace.

“Hey,” a voice from behind you made you squeal and jump forward. Holding the left side of your chest, you slowly turned around to meet the chocolate brown eyes of Hwang Minhyun. His gaze never once left yours, piercing you with an intense glint. You moved your eyes down. Your heart was hammering against your chest, so quickly and loudly that you were sure at least one person other than you could hear it. “Y/N… don’t ignore me, please. I want to talk.” You were sure of the fact that hearing him out was probably the better idea, but your body thought otherwise. Shaking your head, you dashed out of the scene, leaving Minhyun and his frown stranded in front of the school grounds. His fingers gripped the yellow rose tighter, feeling the tiny thorns pricking the surface of his skin, but too engrossed in your figure leaving for him to care.

You knew you had your fair share of classes with him, so avoiding him all day was inevitable. Still, you tried your best. However, a thought at the back of your mind left you with some questions you were more than curious about. Facing the inside of your locker, you let yourself wander through those thoughts.

“He said he wanted to talk… I wonder what about,” you said quietly, your cheeks growing hot. “No… he wouldn’t say anything like that. He made it clear last week that he wasn’t interested in me at all,” huffing, you shut your locker with ease. Thinking about it all made your head hurt with curiosity. You wished that he wouldn’t have caught your eye, and that you two stayed as mere school enemies who disliked one another with a burning passion. You trudged into your first class that day, where Minhyun was already seated at the desk third from the front. The desk he chose was right in the center row, right next to your usual seat.

What a coincidence, you rolled your eyes.

You made sure all contact with him was cut off somehow, and no matter how much it ached at your heart, you believed you were doing it for the good of your relationship. Hopefully things would go back to the way they were, and he would ignore you as much as you tried to ignore him in this moment. Throwing your bag to the ground by your desk, you focused on the paper and writing utensils in front of you, the last move being that you put your headphones in for the time being, inevitably killing off all communication with him.

It worked.

He didn’t try to talk to you at all and kept his gaze away from yours. You were relieved, but why did your heart want him to look at you at least once? Huffing, you smacked your head to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts.

This was the same for the rest of your classes throughout the day. Everytime you walked into the classroom, you easily spotted him sitting in a seat relatively close— or right beside yours. You could also see him getting more antsy as the hours passed; rubbing his hands together more often, running his fingers through his hair, and tapping his heel against the tiled flooring. You were quite confused, but didn’t want to question it further. That would only mean you would have to interact with him which was a big “no thank you” on your part.

As you neared the front doors of the school, hearing the bell’s ring signalling the end of the day, you were glad that you at least survived one day. Using the tactics from today, you might never have to interact with Minhyun again. That’s what you thought.

Your skin was met with cold droplets of water pouring down onto your body, quickly wetting your hair and clothing. Halting just beneath the sky, you made a turn back to the entrance, where the droplets disappeared. Of course, it just had to rain. You were going to have to sprint down the few blocks separating your house from the school. You didn’t even have an umbrella, making the travel to your house even worse. You were going to get soaking wet and probably get a cold too, considering you didn’t think to bring any type of jacket to keep you warm. Huffing, your feet took action and you sped out and under the rain, which got heavier as each minute passed.

“Y/N!” you heard a voice called out from a distance. Quickly glancing behind you, there was no doubt that you knew who the voice belonged to. Cursing under your breath, your footsteps began to trudge quicker through the rainwater, splashing your legs and soaking your socks. “Please Y/N! I just want to talk to you!” the desperation in his tone was clear, making you feel a bit guilty. After all, he did just want to talk, and thankfully the area was almost completely empty, so that if something embarrassing happens, you would be able to flee the scene with a decent amount of your dignity left.

Hearing his calls becoming more and more discouraged, you decided to slow down until you came to a full stop, standing under the now pouring rain while gazing at him in the distance. You could see that he was holding a black umbrella, giving him complete and utter protection from the drops which continued to splash down faster. As soon as he noticed you stop in your place, he rushed over, wanting to get to you as soon as possible. By now, the umbrella would’ve been no help. You were already almost soaking wet from head to toe, and the books in your bag were most likely getting wet as well. Once his figure reached yours, you couldn��t take your eyes off of him. It was like a spell had been casted on your body, leaving you to just gaze at his worry-filled eyes, slight frown, and right hand that gripped the handle of the umbrella as if his life depended on it.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes momentarily before opening them up again. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning? I wanted to tell yo-” you quickly interrupted him.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, okay? Just save me the embarrassment and leave me alone.” your eyes dropped down to the wet pavement where your shoes suddenly more interesting to look at than usual. You heard Minhyun sigh, before reaching his unoccupied hand up to turn your chin to the sky. Your eyes were met with his warm, chocolate brown ones in an instant.

“No, you need to listen to me!” Shaking his head, you noticed that his frown was getting bigger. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

This time, it was your turn to shake your head.

“But I do know. I’ve known ever since I confessed to you, okay? After this, nothing’s gonna change, but nothing’s gonna be the same either. I’ve ruined it for the both of us and I’m already embarrassed by it enough. You don’t need to rub it in my face.”

His confused look sent you into overdrive, making you feel all these emotions that you desperately wanted to get away from.

“Hwang Minhyun, I know you don’t like me back and it hurts. It really does. So why don’t we just save this conversation for never? I already heard the words coming from our mouth once, and I don’t want to hear it a second time.” You made a quick u-turn from your position, walking back the path you previously were on before Minhyun called your name.

“But,” you could hear his words fading into nothing. “I… I was wrong.”

You halted in your footsteps. What did he just say?

You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to. You were afraid of what he said. Did he mean it? Was he telling the truth?

You heard him say it again in a softer voice.

“I was wrong, Y/N. I like you. A lot. I don’t know why I was so afraid about it before.” You turned around to match his gentle stare.

“A-Are you being serious?” your voice was shaking from your feelings, partly from the cold that was beginning to get to you. He nodded, giving you a small smile while walking towards you. It only took you a couple of second for you to be under his umbrella once again. “I thought you said you didn’t…” your voice trailed off.

“I was scared,” he began. “I was in denial about my feelings for you. I didn’t want to like you because I always thought that you wouldn’t return my feelings. All along I thought I was just sparing myself the embarrassment, but…” you lightly giggled. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately ever since the class party we had back in December. I would’ve never thought that you liked me back at all. It’s still a shocker to me, to be honest.”

You hummed in response, thinking about the class party where everyone was to dress up in semi-formal wear. You remembered Minhyun’s black suit pants and white button-up shirt, he looked extremely handsome that day. However, it suddenly occurred to you that it was now April, meaning that he’s been thinking about you in a different light ever since four months ago.

Your eyes were set on his again, and this time, he gave you a soft, wide smile that gave your butterflies. Not long after though, his smile turned to a frown as he seemed to remember something.

“Y/N…” he looked regretful. “I’m really sorry for embarrassing and hurting your feelings that day you confessed. I was just so, so shocked and still in denial. I would take it all back if I could.” you shook your head again. Rising up on your tiptoes and pecking him lightly on the cheek, you said with a grin.

“I forgive you, loser.”

[leightaylorwrites]

Leigh Dissects YA Fiction: They All Fall Down (Chapters 9 - 12)

Chapter Nine

Levi certainly wasn’t grieving Olivia’s death…

Of course not. Why would he be grieving his ex-girlfriend? That would imply that he cares about anyone other than you and with this being a YA book, it’s unlikely that a romantic lead would be so complex. 

[...] his open varsity jacket making his shoulders look even broader.

A specific sport isn’t named. Does the author think all varsity athletes get the same jacket? There are emblems, symbols, and other things that are specific to certain sports. This is what happens when you base your YA book on your own nerdy high school experiences and don’t do basic research: you get things wrong.

“Why is everyone so certain Levi Sterling is going to jail?” I demand.

You can’t demand a question that has to be answered by multiple people when you’re only with one person. Also, didn’t you, like recently, say he might’ve been a murderer or rapist?

I nod sympathetically, supposing that’s a legit enough connection for a guy like Josh to shed a few tears.

Because for a masculine boy to cry, it has to be legitimized.

Was he kidding? Girls like Olivia and the rest of them on that list didn’t hang out with nerds like me. But guys don’t always know that.

Okay, even if we’re going with the ridiculous idea that people don’t have friends in different circles, the same would be true for boys. Geeky boys and jocks wouldn’t hang out. Why wouldn’t he know this?

“I missed you last night,” he says right into my ear, with a secret, sexy voice that should have every cell in my body jumping up and down.

You’ve spoken for a total of three minutes.

“I had…” Movie night with mom. “Something else to do.”

Why can’t she just tell him the truth? I get it’s geeky but it’s not like you were committing a crime.

A flicker of distaste crosses his expression as he conciders what could possibly have been more important than his game, and his gaze shifts in the direction where Levi had been. “Out with your parolee?”

Dora doesn’t tell him the truth about her whereabouts as a way for the author to throw in cheap tension. If she had a legit reason or given an explanation (like how I said spending time with her mom is ~geeky~), then it would’ve worked. Without that, this is just lazy writing.

“Good thing, ‘cause they're saying he was there and was having a deep and heated conversation with Olivia before she died.”

Did this book have an editor?

“Good thing you weren’t with him.”

He’s said good thing twice in the past quarter page. Either the author discovered a new phrase while writing this chapter, or someone stans NCT.

“Listen, I know it’s not going to be really fun under the circumstances and all, but a bunch of kids are getting together at my house tonight. Will you come?”

Y’all really about to have a party when someone just died. I get the popular kids are supposed to somewhat suck but there’s sucking then there’s being horrible people.

“We’re changing clothes, you freakazoid!”

Outdated reference is outdated. Most of this author’s demographic does not know that song. Has she ever spoken with an actual teenager? In this century?

“His parents passed away many years ago.”

Please be related to the cult I’m probably totally wrong about.

“I never got into the house but I’ve heard it’s amazing, with an indoor swimming pool and a ten-car garage adjacent to some of the prettiest parts of Nacht Woods.”

Good Lord. First, it annoys me when characters who are loaded go to public school with a bunch of people who are nowhere near as rich. School zoning doesn’t work like that, with only one megarich kid and everyone else being middle class. Second, why are we getting this awkward splooge from Generic BFF’s mom instead of having this description when Dora gets to the party later????? Why is this writing so bad? Where is the editor?

“The grandfather, who’s retired, of course, made a killing on Wall Street, as I understand it.”

What is this SENTENCE?! I suck at grammar and sentence structure and all those technical things but damn, I know I could do a better job at this editor who works for an actual publishing house.

“Really hit it huge in the go-go eighties.”

“Where’d they go-go?” Kayla asks, making everyone laugh.

Not me.

“It’s the idiots who can’t handle the peer pressure. But, okay, you girls use common sense.”

Fucking hell. If they’re pressured into drinking then they’re not idiots. That’s why it’s called PRESSURE. And why are we acting like people with common sense don’t drink? They’re not mutually exclusive.

“(...) I’d love to just sit around that table for house with a family that is so whole and happy. But I only have myself to blame for that.”

Shut your melodramatic ass up.

Chapter Ten

God save me.

(..) what feels like a half-mile-long driveway (...) At least fifty cars are in the drive and along the street.

Driveway. It’s called a driveway. You just used it in the last sentence.

She’s cute - and has to be freezing - but, really, nothing extraordinary to look at.

What a fucking bitch. Honestly, Dora, please die.

“We’re going into the woods.”

Yes, now it’s the point in the book where a Native American burial ground is invaded by drunk suburban white teens who literally have no respect for the land. This includes our protagonist. And if you’re thinking she’s going to mention how wrong and disrespectful this is, bring your expectations of this author down. No, further. FURTHER. Yes, that low.

“We’re at Meesha mound.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Indian burial ground, you know. Cool, huh?”

“Very.”

To be fair, Dora says her “very” is sarcasm but like?? Nothing is done or said about how horrible it is that they’re doing this. Or even the improper and offensive usage of “Indian.”

She misses my sarcasm and takes me down a dark path.

Obviously bad metaphor is obviously bad.

“I like Sisters of the List,” Kylie Leff says, leaning into Amanda. “We’ve been blood sisters since kindergarten.”

Can I return this book and get cult lesbians instead? Side note, if you want to watch something about a cult lesbian, AHS: Cult was AMAZING and its best season since Coven.

She holds up a single knuckle and Amanda meets it with one of her own in the most feminine and lackluster knuckle tap in history.

We get it. Fem = bad, hot fem = bad, weak fem = bad.

Why was Dora expecting some epic knuckle punch when Kylie only used one knuckle? Does she think she has super-strength?

It’s Candace Yardley, number ten, who up to this point has been virtually silent. Once again, I take a second to admire her dark good looks; she is runway perfect.

Why is this book so racist?!! Having the Asian character be silent until Dora is ready to comment on her ~dark good looks~?? And she has to be at the bottom of the list? What IS THIS?!

She smiles at her best friend.

How many times must we be reminded that Kylie and Amanda are gal pals, heteros, and that this book has no room for lesbians? Petition to save Kylie and Amanda from this hetero dumpster fire.

I take the vodka bottle and let a few drops touch my lips, the flavor like bitter grape cough medicine.

One, you can’t taste much with your lips. Two, that’s not what vodka tastes like.

“You bitches cray.” She sings the last word on a laugh. “But I need to get fried.”

Let’s play “spot the Token black character.” I think the usage of the word cray is a testament to how old this book is. Back when white authors thought it was fun to use cringe aave. You gon finna catch me is SHAKING.

“Thank god that chapter is over” - me after every chapter.

Chapter Eleven

“YOLO, baby girl. Which translates into ‘have some fun.’

Petition to have white authors never write black characters again.

I can smell beer, and the sound of rap is barely drowned out by loud boys and girls laughing. Really? On the night after the girl they all planned to vote for class president next year has died? They either don’t care or… they don’t understand death.

You fucking asshole, Dora. Some people have different coping methods. And, how would you know they don’t care or understand death? Do you think you’re the only person in your whole school who has lost someone?

They don’t know how permanent death is. But I do.

Earlier, we learned that Generic Good Boy is a fucking orphan. He lost BOTH parents. You lost ONE brother. Shut up.

“Like I said… YOLO.”

Stop. I’m begging.

“You know what I remember about you in middle school?” (...) “You were hydrogen in our Dress Like an Element Day in science.”

Listen, I like the fact that Dora and GGB have natural chemistry as characters whereas Dora and GBB are forced like hell. But could the author not think of a more interesting element? Why would GGB remember this in particular? Even if he thought Dora was cute, it would make sense for the element to be something less common and therefore more easy for the reader to see why it was so memorable.

“You’re the Latin expert.”

She’s a junior in high school.

“(...) he lives to meet pretty girls.” The way he says it makes me feel like I really am one of those pretty girls.

Because he just told you his grandfather likes pretty girls? An old man? That makes you feel pretty? Really? That?

“Wait--I want to kill her, er, say hi.”

Ignoring this horrible attempt at humor, Dora is upset with her friend for drinking at a party. I’ll point you to Dora’s weird grape cough medicine vodka from her cult meeting in the woods.

“I play on two travel teams--hey, Ryan--and lots of these kids are from all over this side of the state.”

They came all the way out here for one party? Are there no parties in their own neighborhoods?

“Kenzie.” The older man nods in approval. “Of course.” Flashing an easy, wide smile, he looks down--way down--at me. Instantly, I can see where Josh gets his gifts--his height, the build, the sort of raw masculinity mixed with charm that rolls off him. That’s hereditary, I suppose.

I just threw up.

This man is at least sixty, given that his grandson is a high school junior. And Dora just spent a paragraph lowkey lusting after him. I haven’t witnessed something so grossly uncomfortable since Throne of Trash the series we don’t acknowledge.

“You were absolutely correct, Josh. She is a refreshing change.”

Get it? Because she’s not like those other girls.

“You’ve taught me everything, Josh says, a respectful note in his voice. “Including how to pick quality girls.”

Women aren’t avocados.

He pats my hand and shifts in his seat. “Let’s change the subject. I understand you’re on that list that does nothing but objectify lovely teenage girls.”

You can’t call out the list for objectifying them when 1) you’ve done that since you met Dora, 2) you act like a fucking pedophile while you’re touching her, and 3) you follow up the fact that the list is objectifying the girls by calling the girls “lovely.”

“But his legacy lives on, right back in Nacht Woods.” He angles his head toward the back of the house. “He’s buried there, too.”

So not only has this author disrespected Native Americans with using their burial ground for horror aesthetic reasons, but she’s also allowed a white character to be buried there.

“Not him, per se,(...) but the things that mattered to him. I made a place to honor him.”

I know we need exposition but it makes no sense here. They’ve spent half a page talking about this dead dude, rather than the scholarship Dora wants.

“How do I apply?”

“No application necessary, dear. You just have to finish the ropes course Jarvis built in Nacht Woods (...) You look fairly athletic.”

Oh my god. How many ways can this author metaphorically shit on this burial ground?

“Quit hittin’ on my chick, Rex.”

Dora’s next thought is her freaking out about Josh calling her his girl, which okay, I get. But… shouldn’t she be a tad bit concerned about this creepy pedo man who just offered her a scholarship as long as she completes The Hunger Games?

“She’s a total brainiac (...) I think that’s hot.”

“Quite,” his grandfather agrees.

I’M NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP

Chapter Twelve

I haven’t had anything to drink since my one sip of grape vodka, but Molly’s borderline tipsy(.)

We’ve got clarification that her vodka was grape flavored (ew) but what the hell is “borderline tipsy”??? Either she’s tipsy or she’s sober. Tipsy is the full in between of sober and drunk.

“But the weirdest thing of all was the texts disappeared about ten minutes after I got it. I can’t find it in my deleted texts, nothing.”

SHE TRIED TO SEARCH DELETED TEXTS AND WAS SURPRISED WHEN SHE COULDN’T FIND ANYTHING ASHJLDFASHLJL

(...) ready for dark looks from my list sisters(...)

We’re really using this name?

But I won’t tell these girls that. They’re wack.

I love 2001 slang.

Also, you guys don’t know how hard it is for me to not make a Malibu’s Most Wanted reference right now.

Having to post all my notes/opinions means I’m having to read over some of the book again and if you can believe it, these are considered the good chapters compared to what comes later.

Using my irritation as free entertainment? Enjoy my writing as free entertainment, too. I’ve got a freebie book called Epic here.

[annieleonhardt]

Aruani Week day 2- High School

AO3

I've been saying forever that Juno would make for a perfect aruani au, so I figured I could totally get away with doing a very loose Juno au for Day 2. Might do one or more with this. I probably should, since this ends hanging lmao. Anyway, hope you enjoy! <3

Even short stories have to start somewhere.

If Annie had to pick a place for their story to begin, she could easily go back to kindergarten; The day she met Armin Arlert on the playground. Him in his little suspenders and tucked in white shirt, trying to catch a woolly bear caterpillar that inched across a tree branch.

As he noticed her and motioned for her to join him, Annie turned around and instead played on the swings. A fateful meeting that was as mundane as they come. Yet, through the years things changed. Year by year she would listen to him, and instead come over and join in his weird bug collecting hobbies and little one-person book clubs.

Unlike Armin, Annie never could be described as a social kid. The presence of others could be both overwhelming and troublesome. She preferred her own company, thank you very much. Surely, giving in and getting to know someone during recess didn’t mean a thing. Even as she somehow melted into his little 3-person friend group. Eren and Mikasa were tolerable, she supposed. Especially as both were more than willing to share their lunches with her, including large double stuffed oreos that her father would never buy her.

Elementary school turned to middle school, and childlike curiosity turned into adolescent hormones. Month by month, year by year, their classmates changed and grew. She very clearly remembered the day Eren and Jean both came in, showing off their singular chest hairs. The jarring crack of their voices dashed any bravado the two tried to bring. Reiner grew fast, becoming increasingly broad shouldered as his closest friend, Bertholdt, seemed to grow taller without stopping. By the end of 8th grade the two were almost comically enormous. Connie, conversely, seemed to go through every change puberty entailed except for the part about growing tall.

Armin wasn’t so fast. It wasn’t until 8th grade that the shy, introverted bookworm began to grow and change. Their classmates noticed, too. As their friends joined JV sports, he remained on the sidelines. Somehow, Annie prefered it. Though athletic outside school, climbing the ranks in girls MMA, team sports didn’t come easily to her and never had. What did, however, was talking to him. So there they’d sit after school, watching Mikasa and Eren practice their respective sports. Armin had a way of making the wait pass fast for Annie. She liked his conversations about books, and comics, and fantasy, and science. She liked how into his favorite stories he got, and how passionate he seemed to be of things no one else cared about. And she liked how weirdly cynical he could be through his bright smiles. It matched her own increasingly dry wit.

What she didn’t like was how he never seemed to shoot back at unkind words. Being so small, and undoubtedly nerdy, Armin had his fair share of bullies. Other kids who would tease him behind his back in class, as if getting an answer right was somehow something to mock. There were times when books were flung right out of his hands, and he certainly didn’t have the strength to do it right back. The classic locker shove was far from foreign to him, and Annie could recall at least one occasion when when his nose would have been broken if he didn’t dodge a kid in time.

Yet, he never fought back. Even after Eren and Mikasa prodded him to.

“They’d be winning if I did. They’re only doing this because they know I’m right.” He explained, as Annie helped him pick his books up off the ground. “Besides, there’s gonna be a time in their life when they’ll look back on this and see how terrible and immature they’re being. I’ll never have a moment like that!”

He looked up at her beaming, and Annie felt her heart jump.

There was something to be said about his inner strength, and the will it took for him to smile so bright at her after being pushed around. Impressive, perhaps. She liked that about him.

She liked a lot of things about him. Annie didn’t mind admitting that at all.

She also didn’t mind giving his tormentors some retribution behind his back. Armin could hardly hold it against her, if ever he did find out.

Finally came high school, and Annie had been through a freshman and sophomore year of revelations.

1.) When Armin finally came into his own, he was far more handsome than even she could have guessed. 2.) Cross Country was a good sport for him. Perhaps she’d have to thank Eren later for twisting his arm. 3.) She liked him a lot more than she originally thought.

It was Reiner who first brought the topic up. On one of those days she stayed after school, waiting for Armin to get done with his cross country practice. Reiner and Bertholdt, by then a couple (to the surprise of no one), sat beside her on the grass. When the words rolled out of his mouth, she could barely process it.

“When are you going to tell him you love him, Ann?”

It all seemed so matter of fact. Even Bertholdt barely looked moved by his words. As if, she realized, there were only two people in school that didn’t seem to realize the unspoken thing going on between her and Armin since middle school. It was no mystery who those two people were. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t Eren and Mikasa.

“Wait, you didn’t know?!” Eren exclaimed, practically falling off the bench. “Mikasa and I have been betting on who would confess fi- OW!”

Had Mikasa not pinched his arm, Annie would have gladly done it herself.

“What he means is,” Mikasa began, pushing black hair off of her sweat-trenched forehead. “Most people could guess you like him, Annie.”

“What, have been walking around with heart eyes for years and not noticed?”

“Yes.”

“A little bit.”

“Fantastic.”

It was hard to act normal around Armin after that. Not for lack of trying, of course. Something was different, and she knew exactly what; she did love him. And she felt like an absolute idiot for not having realized it herself earlier.

“I don’t get it myself, Annie. He’s a little too scrawny for me.” Hitch snickered on the phone one day. “You should tell him, though. Catch that fish while you’re the only one on the lake. And, no offence, your bluntness and scary face may not be to your advantage.”

Ridiculous ways of putting it aside, Hitch had a point. And Annie could only try her best to work up the nerve. When she finally did, it all seemed so simple.

They sat like it was any other weekend. Junior year had begun, and their AP homework was already piling up. However, she certainly wasn’t there to do homework. More important matters were at hand.

As it stood, hers was only inches away from his. Armin sat beside her on the floor of his bedroom. Whatever the movie was, she wasn’t paying attention. It was impossible; Armin was so close, and somehow the gap was closing. The early autumn air was still heavy, and in the air conditioned chill of his room, she could feel sweat pooling on her brow. Annie hadn't realized how hard she was staring until he was staring back, blue eyes wide.

“Annie…?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey.” The air only seemed to thicken. As her cheeks flared red, she swallowed back whatever was beginning to climb back up her throat. Stray blonde bangs fell into her eyes, but she didn’t get a chance to push them away. Armin was already on it. His fingers brushed gently against the apples of her cheeks, causing goosebumps to form on her arm.

Perhaps the heat clouded her head, because she could only remember the smallest of details. The gap was closed, and his lips were so soft against hers. He was sweet, slow, and gentle. Never making a move unless he knew, somehow, that she approved. After everything, there was a lot she was ready to approve of.

It all seemed to happen so fast. Hands locked tight, and Annie found herself slipping onto his lap. Tongues tangled as either could only beg to go further. No one was home.

Not that it would have mattered. A stray shirt here, a hoodie there. There was no telling how long it took before there was nothing between them. At some point, the floor turned into his cushioned desk chair, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care that they weren’t surrounded by rose petals and champagne. She didn’t care that they were sweating, inexperienced, and letting years of tension explode in his bedroom, surrounded by Star Wars posters and half-finished k’nex models. She didn’t care that they threw caution to the wind in a moment of passion and desperation. On his goddamn desk chair.

All she cared about was that it was him, it was real. It was so very, very real.

And it could only get more real from there. As she thought about it, that’s where all of this really began.

Annie and Armin, and a goddamn desk chair.

“Does Armin even know?”

“Uh. I’m planning on telling him later. Probably.”

Hitch went completely slack jawed. She sat on Annie’s bed, somehow even less composed than Annie herself. Yet, she couldn’t help but hold back a laugh. Something about the situation came across to her as almost awkwardly hilarious. Armin Arlert, of all people. Annie Leonhardt, of all people.

“Holy shiiiiit…” She brought her hand up to her mouth. Annie simply glowered at the floor. “How are you not, like, flipping out right now? I know you’re supposed to be all stoic and all, but this is-”

“Don’t let my face fool you. I’m actually freaking the fuck out.” Annie collapsed on her bed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god I’m about to puke.”

“Is it because of-”

“Yes.” She sprung up to a sitting position, and tugged at the collar of her hoodie. It seemed to get tighter and tighter as the moment passed. “I don’t know what to do. I already tried that option, and I just...I couldn’t. It wasn’t for me. No shame to it, I just...I don’t know.” Annie contemplated pulling her hood over her head, pulling the drawstrings, and staying there forever. It seemed like the best course of action.

“You need to tell your dad.”

“You’re insane.”

“No no, hear me out.” Hitch stood up, and the two could just barely hear the sound of Annie’s father downstairs. Home from work, whistling a tune, wondering where his only daughter was off to. “Get that out of the way first. Your dad’s not that bad, Annie. Sure, he’s tactless, a little abrasive, but it’s not like he’ll be mad at you.” She grabbed her friend's hand, and slowly dragged her off the bed. “Come clean, free your mind. Clear your conscience. Tell papa Leonhardt the truth, and then go over to Armin’s. If your dad hulks out, comfort will be right around the corner. Literally. He lives like a block away.”

“Ohh my god.” Despite herself, Annie had to agree. The desperate nature of the situation made anything seem sane, of course.

By the time they were downstairs, her father rested on the couch. The paper in front of him just barely obfuscated his face from view, giving Annie a moment to breathe. Her fingers fumbled with the sleeves of her hoodie. Behind her, Hitch sat on a nearby table.

“Just go for it! That’s for the best” She prodded, getting Annie’s father's attention immediately.

“Ann!” He shouted, the smile spreading across his face. “I was wondering where you disappeared to- oh hey, Annie’s friend.”

“Hitch, sir! You’ve known me for years.”

“If you say so. What’s up, Ann? Why are your eyes so red?” He put his paper down, leaning forward in a way that somehow made Annie feel worse. Their relationship could be rocky, but the fear of his disappointment in her rest at the pit of her stomach. “You wanna spar the pain away? That always helps.”

“Uhh…” Her voice failed her. It was as if the room began to close in around her. Annie sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before finally, and boy did it feel final, going for it.

“Uh. I’m pregnant.”

One burden lifted up, only for another to rest on her shoulder. Her father looked past the point of stunned. His face fell flat, with the exception of his dropped jaw. Slowly, eyebrows moved inwards. As the silence dragged on, Annie began to panic.

“I really didn’t mean for- listen, I’m probably just gonna give it up for adoption, it’ll have a nice home I’m sure, and in a few months we can pretend this never happened and I didn’t totally fuck up what could be my entire life, yeah?” Barely a breath in between.

“You’re...you’re pregnant?” It almost stung more that his voice wasn’t in any way elevated. The kind of tone that said he wasn’t mad, just very disappointed. Oh, it stung good.

“...I’m sorry.” She pushed blonde bangs out of her eyes, more out of nerves than a real need. “I’m feeling the pain, if it’s any consolation. Crazy heartburn, migraine…”

“You...you’re sexually active?”

“Oh my god.”

It was almost a relief to see her father become a bit more animated.

“Annie Francesca Leonhardt, I...who is the kid?”

“The baby? I mean I don’t know, it kind of looks like a lizard though.” His real questioned dawned on her, and she wanted to smack herself more and more.

“No, fuck, Annie I mean, who’s the father?”

Another deep breath.

“Armin Arlert.”

“...Armin Arlert?” His snicker was beyond unexpected.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“HA, I know, right?” Hitch barely blocked Annie’s hand coming her way.

Though it was at the expense of the boy she loved, she did appreciate the lightening atmosphere. It didn’t last too long, though. Her father’s gaze rested hard on her.

“Ann, what the hell are you going to do?” There it was. The clear look of disappointment she was dreading. Annie bit her lips, eyes drifting down to the carpet as her cheeks went red. In the long run, she had no idea. In the short term, she wanted desperately for that conversation to end. More importantly, she wanted desperately to talk to him. Armin’s voice was a phone call away, but she prefered something more intimate.

The conversation with her father could only go so far. The moment he let her go, Annie found herself running out of the house and onto her bike. How Armin would react: She had absolutely no idea.

At least, she knew, he would be comforting. If a little shocked. More than a little shocked.

Ah, hell. Annie would be shocked if he didn’t pass out right there. She was feeling about ready to, as well.

[thesundanceghost]

Could Be Worse

Because I promised you guys a one-shot, and I had a lot of feelings about pre-Season One stancy.  This takes place in late October before the show actually begins, right at the start of steve and nancy’s relationship.  @stancy, I thought of you while writing this!  Also @dadharbour, thanks for calling me out about how i always say i’ll write stuff, because I wrote this entire thing out of spite lol

“Oh my god.” Nancy’s jaw dropped.  She was going to kill her brother.

She was holding what should have been her striped grey T-shirt for gym, but instead was a smaller, unflattering grey shirt with the Star Wars logo plastered across the chest above art of all the main characters of the saga.

Mike had switched the shirts.  She couldn’t believe him.  She knew he’d been annoyed at her all weekend, but this was ridiculous.

None of the other girls seemed to notice or care as they changed quickly and made their way out of the locker room.  She glanced at the clock, groaning when she realized she was going to be late unless she changed right away. Grumbling, she stripped out of her sweater and top and pulled on the T-shirt. Luckily it was one of the shirts Mike had bought a size too large, so while it was small, it wasn’t unbearable.  She threw her stuff into a locker and quickly walked to join the rest of the girls outside.

To add insult to injury, the coach had lectured her for five minutes in front of everyone about proper attire while the other girls giggled about the unattractive shirt.  The coach then announced that they were going to play soccer that day, which was naturally Nancy’s worst sport.

God she hated gym class.

Nancy managed to avoid most contact with the ball by hovering around the sidelines.  About fifteen minutes into the game, however, one of her more athletic teammates made the terrible decision of passing to her.  She noticed too late, and they all watched the ball fly off the field until it hit a fence.

“Wheeler, go get it,” the coach told her, shaking her head.  Nancy just nodded, but as soon as she turned away she started muttering under her breath as she walked towards the ball.

She’d never understand why she was still being subjected to gym class.  Last year she’d been lucky enough to share the class with Barb, and the two of them had been able to hang in the background unbothered through most of classes.  This year she was all on her own, and it made all the difference in the world.  She pulled at the small shirt in frustration, frowning when it kept rising above her waistband.

“Hey, looking for this?”

She looked up at the voice, blinking in surprise.  Steve Harrington was holding the soccer ball, eyebrows raised expectantly.  He was wearing basketball shorts and a grey T-shirt as well, as she realized he must be in his own PE class as well.  After a second, his eyes flicked down to her shirt.  He smirked.

Embarrassed, Nancy just nodded quickly and took the ball, holding it in front of her to block him from seeing any more of the nerdy design.

“Come on Wheeler, hurry it up!” Coach Johnson called, and Nancy blushed.

“Thanks,” she muttered before jogging back to the other girls.

Only forty more minutes, and then she could get out of this class, and this stupid shirt.

*****

History was her last class of the day, and luckily she wasn’t on her own for this one.  She was able to rant to Barb as they walked to the class together, even though she got the feeling that her friend thought she was a bit too angry at her brother for the prank.  Whatever.  She was a sixteen-year-old girl.  She was allowed to hate her baby brother, right?

They separated once they entered the class, Barb sitting by the door and Nancy heading towards her assigned seat in the back corner.

“Hey Nancy,” Steve greeted her as she set down her stuff.  Nancy looked over at Steve Harrington, who was throwing his stuff down on the desk next to her.

“Hi,” she answered back nonchalantly, giving a polite smile.  She tried not to think about their run-in earlier, but she had a feeling he’d already forgotten about it.  Even though they’d sat next to each other in history for months (as well as having attended the same schools since they were five), they barely ever spoke.  She doubted he knew anything about her besides her first name.

Steve turned towards her suddenly, mouth open like he was about to say something, when the bell rang and Ms. Katz made her way to the front of the class.  Steve shrugged and turned back to his desk.  He was probably just going to ask what we were supposed to read for homework, Nancy thought to herself.

The class passed slowly, as it always did.  Ms. Katz was a fine teacher, Nancy supposed.  It wasn’t the teacher’s fault that she hated history as much as she did.

She was doodling small UFO’s and dogs in the margins of her notebook when something lightly tapped her arm.  She looked over to see a ripped piece of paper folded into fourths.

Nancy stared at the note, picking it up from the corner of her desk so Ms. Katz wouldn’t see it and snatch it up.  She frowned when she saw there was no name written on the outside.  She glanced around, but nobody seemed expectant, and being in the corner meant that there was really nobody else to receive it.  Nancy looked at Steve again, who was tapping his pen repeatedly as watched Ms. Katz.

Sensing her gaze, he looked up and smirked.  After glancing towards the front of the classroom cautiously, he raised his eyebrows at her and mimed opening the folded piece of paper.

She was wary, of course, but figured it couldn’t hurt to just read it.  Not checking to see if Steve was watching her, she unfolded it and stared at the dark ink waiting inside.

Didn’t take you for a Star Wars fan.  Cute shirt though

Nancy read it three times, just to be sure.  She was blushing intensely, she knew, so she hid her face as she attempted to get back to the lecture.  She tried to listen to her teacher, but her eyes kept flitting over to the words etched over the blue lines on the paper.

She’d sat next to Steve for almost two months at this point, and he’d never said anything besides the occasional “hello” or “did you do the reading?”.  They weren’t friends.  They were barely even acquaintances.  Nancy wasn’t exactly a nerd-- or at least, not like Mike and his squad were-- but her and Barb hardly even existed in the same social realm as Steve Harrington and the rest of the jocks.

Was she supposed to respond?  She didn’t know the first thing about passing notes.  Not that she was too good for it or anything, there just weren’t that many people who bothered to engage her in it.  Steve wasn’t looking at her anymore, but did that mean he wasn’t expecting anything?

After two minutes (though it felt like half an hour) of debating with herself, she gave in.  One reply couldn’t hurt, and she had to set the record straight, after all.  As discretely as possible, she wrote out a small response under Steve’s writing.

It’s my brother’s.  He switched them to get back at me.

She watched Ms. Katz carefully, waiting for the perfect opportunity to set the note on the boy’s desk quickly.  She was never one to pass notes during class, and she refused to get in trouble for something as silly as this.  After it was safe out of sight in Steve’s hands, she returned to her note-taking.

She’d only written another line of notes by the time the scrap of paper was back on her desk.  This time she didn’t waste any time in opening it.

what’d you do to him?

The words were scrawled in that same lazy handwriting, contrasting sharply with her controlled cursive.  She scribbled her answer back underneath and carefully placed it back.

He couldn’t go to the movies with his friends since I wouldn’t chaperone.

She heard Steve give a small snort before jotting something down and tossing it over.

Cruel woman, Wheeler.  No wonder he set you up.

Nancy barely kept quiet when she read his response, shocked.  She quickly replied, handwriting messier than usual, and all but slapped the paper back onto his desk.

I had homework!!  Besides, he was being annoying, and it was a stupid movie!  I doubt you would’ve gone if it had been your brother

bullshit. I’d be an awesome brother.

Well feel free to take Mike if you’d like to test that theory.  He still wants to go to the movies.

Steve actually laughed when he read her reply, but he turned it into a cough before Ms. Katz picked up on it.  Nancy couldn’t help but feel pleased at the reaction.

maybe if you came along.

The bell rang before Nancy could write a response.  She looked at the clock in shock, not realizing how much time had passed, and realized she hadn’t paid attention to the last ten minutes of class.  She’d have to copy the notes from Barb before the quiz.  Although she was ready to go home, she found herself strangely disappointed by the end of the school day.

Steve had already packed his bag and was making his way to the door, but before he left he threw her a glance, a small smile on his lips.  “See you on Wednesday,” he said with a wink, ruffling his hair one last time.

Nancy could only watch him, not remembering to put away her things until he was out of sight.  Barb was by her side in an instance.

“What was that?” Barb demanded as they made their way down the hallway.

“Nothing,” Nancy defended, still holding the paper in her hand.

“You were passing notes with Steve Harrington and you expect me to believe it was nothing?” Barb asked, incredulous. “What did you even talk about?”

“Nothing, Barb!” Nancy said with a laugh, even though she herself had no idea what to think about the interaction.  “It was just a conversation.”

“Can I read the note?”

“No!” Nancy shot back immediately, though she wasn’t sure why.  There was nothing incriminating about it, and she hadn’t lied when she said they’d just been talking, but she really didn’t want to see what Barb had to say about it.  She clenched the paper a bit tighter.

Barb noticed, of course, and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Look, he was probably just bored or something.  I doubt he’ll even look at me on Wednesday.  It’s not like we’re suddenly friends or anything,” Nancy said with a shrug.

Barb sighed, but obediently changed the subject.  As they made their way to the parking lot, Nancy saw Steve leaning against his car as he talked to Tommy Harding.  She refused to look at him, not wanting to give Barb the satisfaction, but she got the feeling he was watching her.  Something fluttered in her chest.

Maybe she’d let Mike off the hook this once.

[argotmagazine-blog]

Benevolent Sexism & Chivalry: Tales From A Modern Medieval Warrior Woman

This week of March 12th, Argot is publishing a piece every day inspired by women, womanhood or personal experience of femininity.

International Women's Day was last week, but women and femininity don't disappear.

I’m a nerdy freshman at Case Western Reserve University, hoping to major in Science Fiction and Some Type of Science (I hadn’t picked one yet) when I’m walking back from class.  I see a group of guys wearing tin cans on their heads and swatches of carpet on their shoulders hitting each other with sticks. They look slightly ridiculous, but it's weird, so I stop to watch.

A woman in a blue cotton version of an Italian Renaissance dress approaches me. “What do you think of our fighters?” she asks.

I don't want to be rude, so I take another look at the group, trying to find something to compliment. I notice a pair near the back. Their armor is metal and looks right. They are moving more frenetically than the others, and the sounds their sticks make are louder – painful cracks. “Those two look good,” I say, pointing.

She nods knowingly. “Of course – that's Duke Laurelen and Sir Theoderic.”

I am unimpressed with made-up names and titles. “Why do they get to call themselves that? Can anyone just decide they are a duke?”

She looks stunned. “Absolutely not – they have to earn it.”

As soon as she says “earn it,” I see the struggling men in a more noble light. They aren’t just playing pretend – there are real stakes, real consequences to winning. Like earning a belt in Karate but this fighting was not something they would do in strip malls. This was fantasy. “Can girls play?” I ask.

“This is the only full-contact sport where women and men compete equally!” she says, gushing.  “Women can become knights or even win the crown of the kingdom!  There are no gender or weight classes. Everyone is equal.”

This, more than anything I had ever heard about chivalry or courtly romance, sounds like a dream made real. Yet five years later, after the fifth man says, “I can’t help you get started because you’re a woman and your body is just completely different,” I end up in a basement with a woman who has been fighting for years. She helps me make a belt to hold a leg harness out of scrap leather.

“Of course,  you have bigger hips and breasts," she says. "I know nothing about arming your body. I use men’s patterns.”

We see the irony but don’t blame the men.  We’ve been raised to see the men’s point of view more readily than ours.

Years later, more comfortable, I ask one of the trainers why he never trained me or helped me get armor together. He answered, “Girls rarely stick with it. You want to give your time to someone who will stay.”

***

It's winter in Euclid, Ohio. My brother-in-law, John, and I are pulling armor out of the trunk of my car and putting the painfully cold pieces on in the parking lot next to the Shore Civic center, I’ve become quite the proselytizer. A week after dragging my brother-in-law to meetings, he has received a second-hand full suit of armor. He fights for a year or two.  I don’t even notice the difference in our struggles until now.

I roll my leg harness over so it fits against me properly and kneel down – one knee loose inside its harness, the other bent up in front of me as I fasten the buckles holding the harness on.  There are three – one at the bottom, one behind the knee, and one halfway up the thigh.  My thigh buckles have always been very loose. I should tighten them but I'm afraid of cutting into my big thighs.

I’m sitting right in the doorway and a woman in gym clothes tries to open the door, bumping into me.   “Sorry,” I say, “We didn’t want to lug this stuff up the stairs.”

She nervous-laughs and sidesteps our gear to go down the stairs to the lower level of the parking lot.  There’s an aerobics class that meets at the center the same night we do.  She’s probably in it.

I finish fastening my leg harness and pick up the gambeson, the padded coat I wear to protect me from the armor.  I made it myself, inexpertly.  It smells of old sweat, motor oil, dust and duct tape.  I grimace and slide my arms in.  It ties in front – there used to be two ties, but one broke soon after I made the gambeson.  I fasten the neck with duct tape.  The weight of the arm harness pulls the neck off my shoulder on the right.  Just one of many things that should be fixed, but I never get around to it.

I pick up the cuirass, its plates of mild, fluted steel modeled after a piece in the Cleveland Museum of Art armor court.  It also weighs thirty pounds.  The front and back are attached with two shoulder straps.  I flip it like a sandwich board over my head.  I could literally hurt myself putting this thing on.  The weight settles comfortably over my gambeson. 

“Wow it feels good to wear armor,” I say.

“Oh yeah,” John says.  “There’s something about just putting on my helmet that makes me feel invulnerable – like I could be shot by a gun and not get hurt.”

I don’t feel like that. I feel… completed.  In my armor I’m not an awkward collection of ugly parts, unable to fit in anywhere. I am an armored combatant. Instantly recognizable as having a place and function in the Society for Creative Anachronism.

I sling my helmet bag on my shoulder and stick my sword through the handles on my shield so I can carry them together.  “I’m dressed enough for now,” I tell John. “See you upstairs.”

The SCA meets on the second floor of the civic center.  My thighs burn with the effort of climbing the stairs, but the armor is easier to carry distributed on my body.

At the top of the stairs my friend Steve is suiting up.  He’s adjusting his gorget around his neck.

“All right!”  I set my bag down next to his.  “I was hoping for an easy kill tonight!”

He blinks in mock surprise.  “You fight?”

Steve is my smack-talk tutor.  “So I got your Christmas present.  I hope you don’t mind it’s late.”  I pause to make sure he’s paying attention.  “I got you an ass-whoopin’.”

He laughs.  “Great! I can’t wait to see how you wrap it!”

My gorget – my neck protector – won’t snap.  While I’m fumbling with it, a brown and yellow gambeson appears behind Steve.  It’s Lothar.  I jump up.  Our breastplates clunk together as we hug.

“Hey little sis,” he says.  “We’re going to work on something with you today.”

He turns and says hello to Steve, and I try to work in my ass-whuppin’ line again.  Lothar is squired to the knight I am man-at-arms to, so I call him Big Brother and he calls me Little Sister.

Lothar lends me his sword.  It’s a shaved-down rattan staff, already showing wear, with a soft leather pistol trigger inside the basket hilt.  He wants me to see if I like the feel.  His sword is lighter than mine, and a good seven inches longer.  I like it immediately.

I’ll never use one like it.  The guys on the Armor Archive online say pistol-triggers are an ahistorical abomination and I’ve decided I’m in the authenticity camp.

The sword I made for myself is too heavy and I know it.  It has a cross-hilt intended for a bastard sword but I wanted a cross-hilt to be more authentic.  It is fat because I grew up poor and I hate the idea of buying a second stick of rattan if not shaving this one down will make it last longer.

I face an athletic man in his twenties.  My sword moves sluggishly as he dances in light plastic armor.  A seasoned Duke, one of the most respected fighters, watches on the sideline, a hand to his chin. “Hold!” he shouts.  We stop and step apart.

He turns his back to me and addresses the young man. “You’re using all arm. You have to swing from the hip. Here, let me show you.”

I don’t mind being ignored. I’m used to learning second-hand.

***

I finally make it into my first tournament, and there is a huge crowd. The ladies from the dancing guild, the scribes, and the people I help in the kitchen are there.  I’m shocked and worried at the turnout.

 “Why are you all here?” I ask.

A cook, her head wrapped in a veil, says it like it’s obvious.“To see you kick ass!”

A skinny young man dressed as a samurai tells me, “When I become an authorized fighter, I want to fight you. Women are faster than men and I plan to be fast.”

I want the ground to swallow me. I am not Eowyn.  I am not Wonder Woman.  Twenty smiling faces lay the burden of representation on my steel-weighted shoulders. I stumble into losing two fights and being eliminated from the double-elimination tournament.

***

 It’s August, in rural Pennsylvania. I’ve traveled to a huge two-week camp-out “war.”  I’ve gotten up every morning at the crack of dawn, put on my armor, and hung anxiously around the fighting field, waiting for someone to train me.     

In the evening, I join the fighters from the barony wherever I find them in their household camps.  Steve and his knight, Alaric, are talking about training together tomorrow.  Another opportunity so easily dispensed to others. Is it the thousandth?  I can’t stand watching it slide by.  Hot and helpless, I resolve to speak.  “Do you mind…” I stammer. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble, could I maybe join you?”

“Lyonnete!” Sir Alaric slaps his thigh. “You should feel obligated to join us!”     

Something swells and relaxes in me. I can go if it’s an obligation.     

Later on the field, fighting pick-ups against strangers, I face a man a head taller than me. No matter how many times I hit him, he grunts that the blows are too light to accept.  We circle. I deflect. He strikes me. I am dead again.

“No offense,” the man says. “But you are incapable of hitting me hard enough. There’s no point in our fighting.”     

I swallow my tears, thank him for his time, and wait for another opponent.       

Incapable and worthless and alone, I walk back to my tent, curl up under my shield, and cry.     

Around the campfire that night, all the men boast of dukes slain and armies vanquished.  I wonder why I can’t beat myself into competence.

***

 In the SCA, it is on the honor of the person being struck to declare it is a good blow. A good blow is one that would cut through a light chain haulberk or open-face iron helmet, regardless of what real armor the fighter wears. These are the standards in the Xeroxed packet.  Like all SCA fighters, I secretly feel that I take lighter blows than everyone around me.  Unlike the men, I wonder if it’s because I’m female, because of unconscious or conscious bias.   

I do a lot of upper-body strength training.  It doesn’t help.     

One day Steve lines up pop cans in his garage for me to hit with my sword. We find I flinch before impact. It hurts, my muscles constricting hard to pull back at the last second all the momentum of my hip-powered swing.

This is a horrible truth to learn about myself, that I’m letting them win, that I am afraid to hit.  I cry.     

I crush all the cans by the end of the day.

***

We’re doing a fighting demonstration for a group of girl scouts. It’s two of the best fighters in the barony and me. I think it’ll be okay because it’s just a demo, and guys take my blows more readily when there isn’t a tournament prize.     

At the start of the demo, the four rows of little girls cheer ecstatically for Lady Lyonnete. I see visions of twenty new recruits, a new generation of lady fighters.  I lose my first fight, but their cheers are just more passionate. “Go get him, Lyonnete!” I lose my second fight.

Their cheers get quieter, but some girls are still interested. They ask me questions, asking to hold my sword, asking how come I had to fight that big man on my knees.  The knight I'm dueling and his squire are laughing, giving each other pointers.  They are treating this just like a practice.  I lose eight fights in a row. Each loss makes more girls turn away.  There are no cheers anymore.  I want to scream because the two men I’m fighting don’t see the girls grow from interested in our sport to depressed, seeing once again something they can never be good at.

***

I am an authorized combatant for ten years. I gain a metal buckler.  A better leg harness.  A red belt and spurs marking me as a squire.  A smattering of tournament prizes: a candle holder, a gorget, nine raw emeralds set in a silver broach.  New fighters start to approach me for guidance.     

I learn what it feels like to impose my will on a man with strength and skill.     

I learn what it feels like when another mans’ will refuses to let him accept my strength and skill.

I start playing football because of my experience as a fighter. It gives me confidence in my strength, in my body.    

I learn what it is like not to carry the unspoken burden of representing your gender while competing at a sport. In the SCA, often I was one of two women in a tournament with fifty men.  Sometimes the only one among a hundred.  In the WFA, we are all women and therefore we are all just football players.  

When I come back to the SCA list field, when I see a knight dismiss me as irrelevant, I feel that weight return.  I see how our equal sport isn’t equal.  It strives to be, but there are all these moments of silence, of friction, of extra steps to reassure the boys that they set the rules and the norms.       

No one asks new male fighters if they are just there to look pretty in armor.     

No one tells them they have to figure out armor all on their own because breasts are impossible to learn how to fit around.     

No man worries about being excluded from friendship with the fighter wives on the sidelines, or that he won’t be welcome with the fighters when they have a “guys night.”

And when some hotshot who thinks his skin is tougher than a rhino’s hide refuses to acknowledge their blows, they will never wonder if it’s just because they are a man.     

So I leave.  But I leave a part of me behind.  I leave behind a beautiful dream of egalitarian chivalry, of men and women being knightly to each other.  Every woman who picks up a sword eats away at those barriers a little bit. And if we keep picking those swords up, keep taking the places left by our sisters who were worn down by fighting two battles in every fight, eventually, I believe we will win.

This is Marie Vibbert's first contribution to Argot. Besides selling twenty-odd short stories, a dozen poems and a few comics, Marie Vibbert has been a medieval (SCA) squire, ridden 17% of the roller coasters in the United States and has played O-line and D-line for the Cleveland Fusion women’s tackle football team.

Her work has been called “..the embodiment of what science fiction should be…” by The Oxford Culture Review.