#id like to stand corrected that the stage IS out there. please.

[mikkouille]

like yeah I guess it's not easy for a network to keep track of 98 boys at once but maybe that's why they should reduce the contestant numbers no one cares about that many mfs + half will disappear without their names being even uttered once

[trekkele]

"# i think If you want a genuine critique of Batman then Leslie and her pacifism is far more interesting"

So true. Unfortunately nobody's been writing her well since the 90s or '00s. At least, I didn't come across anything featuring her in a well thought out way.

I'm split on counting War Games because 'she would not fucking do that' as people say. However, it is her position on morality taken to the twisted extreme. Still, intentionally killing or faking it, is very emotionally hurtful, like trauma inducing hurtful. Both for Steph and the Batfam and her mother.

Looked up the exact definition of pacifism and, well:

"Pacifism is a policy or doctrine of rejecting war and violence in solving disputes"

She kinda did use violence (emotional and body violating and zero consent from removing Steph from her life) to solve a dispute. Or to "free" Steph of her bat-duties, but it still counts.

Would love for Leslie to go after other batfam members and not just Bruce and argue with them about their methods.

Actually i think Stephanies death, either by medical negligence or a failure of her support system, is a natural consequence of Leslies brand of pacifism and while “She, personally, might not fucking do that” her philosophy might so its not as ooc as id like it to be.

So to discuss Leslie i think i have to establish two things 1. She suffers from being a (mostly) anti Batman character in a Batman comic* and

2. She and Jason are actually on two ends of a spectrum, with Leslie being “it is better to be the victim of violence then the perpetrator of it” and Jason being “it is better to enact unspeakable violence then be the victim of it”. With Bruce in the middle like “can we please get some nuance in here can we please get some fucking nuance” which is. Very funny actually.

(Its funny because Bruce, by being Batman, has basically decided to become the nuance - he will be violent for you, and by being so good at violence he can minimize the amount of actual violence needed)

So by letting Steph die, Leslie is essentially saying “no amount of violence can save us, isnt it better to die then without having inflicted it upon others?” Which is so very Ghandi of her, but also fucking insane and yeah Bruce was 100% right to never trust her again after that.

She is also - ok so the thing is, in-universe, being a teenage vigilante is. It’s basically like being a dance kid. Its going to have a profound and everlasting effect on the kids mental and physical health, there are side effects we still don’t entirely understand, but for the most part its just. Something some kids do!! Some of them insist on doing it (dick, damian (<-i have thoughts about why Bruce didnt want to give Damian robin ok) some of them realize it isnt good for them but cant really give it up (jason, maybe tim?) some of them are in it just for their stage moms (cissie king-jones) and some of them suffer long term consequences due to insufficient parental supervision (kon, pre-nu52) etc etc. Leslie is the mom in the corner who thinks allowing her kid to perform or even learn ballet in a studio is a slippery slide to abuse. She thinks no kid should ever be in that environment, and by Bruce allowing Dick to do so, despite Bruces reluctance in the matter and almost oppressive supervision, he has doomed an entire generation of kids.

She is never going to criticize anyone else in the batfam, because to do so would be admitting that kids have agency beyond what adults believe is best for them, and admitting that means being unable to push her “correct” views upon them.

Leslie is actually a pretty good stand in for fandom in that way; refuses to allow anyone but Bruce agency and independent thought, refuses to place blame anywhere but Bruce, insists a difference of opinion is grounds for dismissal of personhood and respect, and believes Gotham would be better off if Batman never existed.

(Once again i have no idea if i answered your question/addressed your ask. Sorry)

[zhenjun]

white people, your cosplay is yellowface

Content warning: images of yellowface that may be upsetting below

Note: I have made the decision to remove the images of modern-day cosplayers. I stand by my initial choice to include them, as I believe actually seeing images of modern cosplay side by side with “real” yellowface was essential to understanding the point. However, this post has gotten much more attention than I ever anticipated. I had, at the time of making it, fewer than 30 followers.

In addition to harassment from sockpuppet accounts, assertions that my opinion on racism is less important because I am in the diaspora, misinterpretation about what this post was initially about (several people claimed cultural appropriation), threats to report and suspend me, and, apparently, discussion on twitter, for my own mental health, I am taking these images down.

I will no longer be responding to criticism or questions on the post, but I will happily answer DMs or asks on the subject. If you disrespect this or try to start more discourse, you are getting blocked, not because I want to silence your voice, but because I am a real person who can choose not to engage with people for reasons as seemingly unfair as my mental health and not wanting to continue filling my blog with the same post that honestly is upsetting for me to look at (as I already stated within the post).

If you have been blocked by me it is either due to disrespect and/or some form of unrelated drama due to how I like to interact with fandoms (i.e. ships like Ch*ngxian, Xu*xiao), not because I am trying to silence you. As I have so few followers, I am sure you can make your own post and gain even more traction than I did.

If you are white, please stop cosplaying MDZS/TGCF characters. It often looks like/is yellowface, and honestly there’s no way to respectfully do it when these media are based so heavily on Chinese culture. I’ll try to sum up why these fandoms need to be more mindful. You can find links and citations at the bottom that read best on my desktop blog theme.

The goal of yellow face in the past wasn’t always to look “authentically Asian;” white directors, actors, set designers, and playwrights set out to use what pieces of East Asian culture they found most inspiring, fun, cool, violent, or backward. Sometimes, white people had "good" intentions" with their use of yellowface and were not "trying" to demean our cultures, but the practice itself did so regardless.

To summarize, white people of the past did yellowface to erase our identities, take aspects of our culture that they liked, or ridicule us. Most modern-day cosplayers are doing the first two.

Below are examples of early Hollywood yellowface and modern-day theater, as well as modern-day cosplay:

[Previously pictured was a white Xie Lian cosplayer who was very receptive after seeing this post and has since removed these images from their social media. If you happen upon any of their cosplay or other social media, please do not send them any hate.]

As you can see actress Katharine Hepburn in “Dragon Seed”[1][2] is in very traditionally inspired Chinese clothing. The previously pictured Xie Lian cosplayer was in a similar hat and wearing white robes. They both had some sort of eye makeup; Katharine Hepburn darkened her hair for the role while the cosplayer was wearing a dark-brown/black wig.

Of note, the character Katharine Hepburn plays in "Dragon Seed" is supposed to be positive; an adaption from (white) author Pearl S. Buck's novel about a brave Chinese woman who stands up to Japanese imperialism. Like modern day cosplayers of Chinese media, just because the white people creating this film did not intend to be harmful does not change that it was yellowface and racist.

[Previously pictured was a before and after picture of a white Xue Yang cosplayer with blue eyes, brown hair, half of which was dyed blonde in the before image. In the after, they were wearing a long black wig, heavy eye makeup, newly shaped and darkened eyebrows, and robes made to emulate CQL in warm lighting]

Here are before and after pictures of actress Katharine Hepburn in 1944[3] and, previously, was a white Xue Yang cosplayer in 2020. Both had altered their eyes and eyebrows as well as donned black wigs or darkened hair.

[Previously pictured was a Jiang Yanli cosplayer in a black wig and robes meant to emulate the donghua]

Yellowface does not always involve modification to the eyes. In these two images, neither Mary Pickford in Madame Butterfly[4] nor the previously shown modern Jiang Yanli cosplayer have done anything noticeable to shape their eyes. They were, however, both wearing black wigs with traditionally inspired outfits. Jiang Yanli wore a modified version of Tang Dynasty fashion.[5]

[previously pictured was an image of a Wei Wuxian cosplayer with face powdered white and rouge around the eyes. Their eyes were still blue as the Madame Butterfly’s were on the left, and they were wearing a long black wig as well as robes designed to emulate his. This image has been replaced and amended with an additional example of modern theater; the production of The Mikado where one actor is wearing a black wig, the other a Japanese inspired hat, and both are wearing Japanese robes]

The final comparison was an example of a stage actress from the 2015 Fargo-Moorehead Opera production for Madame Butterfly[6] on the left (the earlier movie is an adaptation of the play). [This image was previously erroneously attributed to the Knoxville Opera which faced backlash for their production as they had an all-white cast depicting actors in yellowface in 2019.][7]

Honestly, these images just had a strange similarity to me so that’s why I chose to put these two together. Most importantly, was the similarity in makeup, hair, and East Asian clothing. Though the image is not there any longer, but just google Mo Xuanyu cosplays and ask yourself, if you didn’t know the fandom, would you be able to spot the difference of which one is supposed to be worse?

The new image is just another example of modern yellowface in theater, where the actors do not necessarily wear extensive eye makeup to emulate East Asians but, much like modern cosplayers, nonetheless are trying to look like the Asian characters they play in a Seattle production of The Mikado.[8]

As you can see, it’s pretty sad and disturbing to see how the rise of East Asian media is creating a new modern wave of yellowface. I think white people tend to think that black/brown/yellowface is only about darkening the skin, but that is just not what many depictions of yellowface have been for East and Southeast Asian people.

I know a lot of people recognize this is wrong and I appreciate those of you that do, but if you didn’t recognize the past parallels, please read up on the links below! Researching this was honestly triggering and emotionally taxing and caused a mild breakdown, so if you clown on this post you’re getting blocked.

Despite the post losing effectiveness to an extent from taking down the modern day photos, I suggest a quick google search of cosplays from the series during/after reading this. And if you don't agree with me, feel free to block and don't send more hate to me! I'm not trying to get into fights. I just wanna feel like I have a semi-safe space in the fandom but if this annoys you, it's better to just block me.

HISTORY, Casting White People in Asian Roles Goes Back Centuries[↩︎]︎

Youtube, Dragon Seed (1944) Trailer [↩︎]︎

NBC News, 'Correcting Yellowface': One Woman's Project to Fix Whitewashing[↩︎]︎

IMDB[↩︎]

Stony Brook University, The Influence of Chang-An Culture to Korea and Japan: Cultural Diffusion in the Glorious Age of Tang Dynasty[↩︎]

Howard Sherman, Yellowface Bait-And-Switch With ‘Madama Butterfly’ In Fargo[↩︎]︎

OnStage Blog, Knoxville Opera Forgets It's 2019 and Opts for Yellowface for "Madame Butterfly"[↩︎]︎

Seattle Times, The yellowface of “The Mikado” in your face[↩︎]︎

[room-archive]

By now, some of you might have heard about the situation in Poland. The following text was posted on FB by a Polish friend of mine following the events of 07. August 2020 in Warsaw. It describes what happened, and the context of what led to the events of yesterday. Please reblog and share this post to spread awareness about the current situation.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

For a very long time it has not been easy for me to write and talk about my country. Publicly, for a very long time I haven't. Disagreeing with most of what the current government stands for, that would have become a full-time job. Feeling that one is powerless, one can easily become indifferent and either emigrate abroad or immigrate inside to the bubble of like minded friends, trying to just go on with life regardless, to wait out the storm, to hope for the world to change one day on its own. I am guilty of doing both. But yesterday, I believe that Poland came to its turning point. We went to sleep in a troubled democracy and woke up in an authoritarian country that uses the full force of the state apparatus to oppress and unjustly prosecute members and allies of the LGBT+ community.

No good person can stay indifferent facing these circumstance.

General context:

👉 It all began members of the activist collective "Stop Bzdurom" (eng. Stop the Bullshit) spray-painted and cut the tires of an anti-abortion van. This van was taped with graphic images of dead fetuses and frequently driving through the streets of Warsaw. While the activists spray painted the van, the driver intervened and it came to a light physical quarell with pushing and elbowing. This is the video of this altercation: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1324521857722944&id=137358556439286

👉 On the basis of that, the Public Prosecution (which is under total political control in Poland - the Minister of Justice IS the Attorney General) decided to press charges of violent assault and destruction of property against one of the members of the collective - Margot. Margot identifies as a non-binary person (it will be important later in the story). Under those charges Margot could face up to 7 years in prison.

👉 Some weeks ago, Margot was dragged out of her apartment by police in civil clothing. At that point, police refused to give any information about her whereabouts or charges. It took many hours to establish that she was taken to the prosecution office for interrogation and to provide her with a lawyer. The prosecution filed for two months of arrest, awaiting trial. The court initially denied prosecution's request and released Margot. At that stage, this story could have ended as yet another, relatively harmless episode in our disfunctional democracy - unjust and infuriating of course, but at the end smoothened out by the somewhat independent parts of our judiciary.

👉 In between that and yesterday, the same collective hanged rainbow flags from monuments in Warsaw. One of those was a statue of Jesus. This was follwed by a wave of arrests under the charges of "desecrating monuments and offending religious feelings". The arrested were charged while our prime minister and president were visiting desecrated monuments and placing commemorative flowers.

And then yesterday happened:

👉 The prosecution appealed the court's denial to put Margot under arrest. Another court, for reasons still unclear, reversed the decision and decided to put Margot in jail for two months before any trial. There could not possibly be any reason to make such a decision legitimate. Margot is a special case because Polish arrest and correctional facilities are an extremely dangerous place for a (visibly) queer person like her.

👉 When Margot learned of the decision, she happened to be in the office of the biggest Polish LGBTQ+ NGO - Kampania Przeciw Homofobii (eng. The Campaign Against Homophobia). With the police on the way to arrest her (quite symbolic, isn't it), a few NGO’s asked people to gather in front of the office in a demonstration of solidarity. A few hundred people and plenty of journalists showed up, including multiple members of parliament from left and center opposition parties.

👉Margot decided that if she has to go, she won't just go quietly but as publicly as she can. She walked through the demonstration up to the police officers, offering herself to be taken away. They refused to arrest her. We thought they got scared of the public support and the cameras. It looks like we couldn't have been more wrong.

👉 The spontaneous demonstration moved to a nearby allegedly desecrated monument. There, peacful demonstrators were met by an excessively large police force seperating them from the monuments. And then someone has given an order to make an example out of demonstrators and turn the arrest into a show of power.

👉 First, an unmarked car approached. A bunch of police officers in civil clothing dragged Margot inside. For all that has happened later the crowd remained non-violent.

👉 Then, demonstrators sat down around the car to prevent it from leaving. (see Photo) The police attacked with an unprecedented brutality. Tens of undercover police officers arrived and together with their colleagues in uniforms they begun brutally attacking, beating, suffocating and throwing the demonstrators into police cars driving away with them. All that during broad daylight, in front of TV cameras. Without any shame or hesitation. Multiple photos of police brutality bellow. All questions about the basis of the detention were met with laughter. The protestors were not even called upon to disperse. Just faced with violence for the sake of power - no law, no order. TV cameras have caught police officers giving eachother orders to arrest "three random people from the crowd". Bystanders and people passing by were also arrested.

Yesterday in Warsaw is was enough to be in a wrong place, wrong time. We witnessed a straight up round up.

👉To paint the picture of the excess of the police brutality in more detail, I'll quickly describe one of the detentions. During that whole time, MPs (Member of Parliament) were present at the site. Now, they hold immunity from being arrested, but I don't believe anyone in Poland ever imagined that this immunity would have to be used in such a way. Among the photos below, there is one of a blonde woman, holding her hand on the back of a demonstrator, who's being pushed to the ground by the police. That women is an opposition MP who left yesterday's protests injured by the police and described in detailes what had happened. She saw police officers throwing the protester in the picture to the ground and kneeing her down. Her head was bleeding on the pavement. The MP run torwards them screaming to let go and pushing the police away. She lied down on the protester to guard her with her own body. Only then the police let the MP to put her purse under the bleading head of the protester (seen photo) and take care of the head-wound. The protester was then taken away by the police to an unknown location. That story is just one among many horrifying stories from yesterday.

👉 Later, noone knew where exactly the detained people were taken. We guess that around 50 people were arrested.

50 political prisoners.

Police has been refusing any information. The demonstration has moved under the main police stations and the second wave of random arrests happen (you can see it on the video: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=295720058542451&id=107750507339408).

👉Members of parliament and attorneys have been present at the police stations all night trying to get any information and to provide legal help to the detainees. In order to prevent this contact, police has started to move the arrested people out of Warsaw- a tactic straight up from the harshest repressions of the communist times. On one of the photos below you can see two MPs standing in the way of a police van in the middle of the night to prevent that from happening. People were being dragged out of the police stations to the transport vans. They were shielded on the way to the car by other police vehicles to make identification impossible. Few of them managed to scream out their last name. Attorneys were immediately requesting access to their clients, and were met by police officers bluntly lying that such a person was never there.

👉 To paint the picture in more detail, again, of what was happening on the police stations- below you have a photo of a lady reading a piece of paper standing in a window with bars. That's yet another Polish MP, reading a list of the people being held at that particular station to the desperate families searching for their loved ones.

As for today, we are still unsure about what is going to happen.

We know that the arrested people are being presented with bullshit charges, citing ”the participation in an illegal gathering with an aim of violently assaulting a person or a property". Those charges don't stand on any grounds - not only we have photos and videos - the whole peaceful protest was on live TV.

We know that the Polish Ombudsman and the National Mechanism for the Prevention of Torture has started visiting the police stations.

We know that the first international institutions have started to speak out. Example is in the photos below. With the gravity of what is happening, I'd urge for more and sooner.

Poland is not living up to any standards of a free country. Poland is below anything, that should ever be accepted within the European Union. The long-standing aspiration of my country to become a part of the "West" has shifted towards countries like Russia in a matter of a night.

I will fight this, my friends will fight this. We will not let this go gently into silent night.

But I am not sure how much more fight we have in us.

I'll end with asking all of you abroad for support. Let people in your countries hear about this. We in Poland may not be enough.

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.2)

Title: Lost in Zero Gravity (Part Two) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,072 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspo for this fic

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You must have made a really good first impression,” Tatiana commented, blowing out a ring of smoke. Her charcoal lined eyes creased with her pleased smile.

You shrugged, “I was just working.”

“Don’t try to be modest now. It’s not becoming on you,” she laughed in response.

She had called you into her office to tell you that you had been specifically requested for an assignment. It seemed Tony and Steve’s mob were going to be taking a vacation and they wanted you available. You were not one to turn down a paid vacation, especially if they were going to be there. As dangerous as they were, they had been a good fuck and Tony had made sure to get you off. That was far more than probably eighty percent of the people you had been with since you started working the service.

You hated the smell of the cigarette smoke and it was always the hovering stench in her office. She was going to kill herself far too young and maybe shave a few years off your life in return for however she made you stand in here. You adored her, there was no doubt about that. But you wished she would kick the habit.

“Where are they going?” you asked, feigning that you were contemplating about refusing the assignment.

“Riviera Maya.” You narrowed your eyes and she said, “It’s in Mexico.”

An inclusive resort no doubt. It could be fun. Maybe you could ask someone to travel with you so you would not be completely alone when they were not wanting to bed you. Or maybe not… some time alone might do you well.

Tatiana added, “Wives are going to be there though.”

“So, why am I gonna be there?” you asked honestly.

Tatiana snorted, “Oh, stellina.” She took another deep inhale exhaling as she said, “There are so many things there to keep the spouses occupied. They’re rarely together except for dinner. It’s just for appearances.”

Rich people’s lives sounded exhausting.

“You just need to be out in the open, keeping yourself available for them whenever they have an opportunity to slip away and have some fun with you. Otherwise, just keep yourself occupied with the beach and nice drinks. I know you hate suntanning but there are shops to poke around in. I know you like shopping.”

“That I do.”

“Maybe they’ll give you extra.”

“I don’t want to go around trying to get greedy.”

Tatiana smirked at that. “That’s my girl. I trained you well.”

<><><>

Pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, you hopped up onto one of the barstools on the bar you had just walked by and circled back to. You had yet to see either Tony or Steve and you had been here since yesterday. The place was relaxing and the room was great. You had basically sunk into the bed, having one of the best nights of sleep you had had in a long while without any noise from Elisha in her room along your wall back home. Leaning over the counter, you asked for a strawberry lemonade.

“Strawberry lemonade? It’s a party, dollface.”

You recognized that voice and you straightened back up, turning your head to look in his direction.

Steve was standing there, leaning on the counter. He was a sight for sore eyes. He was only in swim trunks, aviator glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. That did not hide the fact you knew his eyes were running unabashedly over your body. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him, thinking of how he handled you last time.

“I bought this specifically for this vacation,” you said, hopping down from the stool and turning around for him to let him see the whole suit. When you turned back around, he was grinning. “It looks good right?”

He nodded, “You look damn sexy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“My wife is here,” Steve said, and you frowned instantly at this immediate change in conversation. Was he trying to kill the mood so quickly? He said, “I know. She’s got her little masseuse guy here to keep her entertained, so I should be able to have my own fun. But I’m trying to be good.”

Picking up on his hint, you sauntered towards him. Your hand came up, resting on his chest. “Why do you have to be good if she isn’t being good?”

“I had to hold it in until she ran off,” he told you.

You pulled his sunglasses down to see his eyes, keeping them on the bridge of his nose. You smiled when you were able to actually meet his gaze.

“Well, when do you get to not be good?”

“Right now,” he said and you smiled in response. “It’s why I came and found you. I saw you yesterday. Wandering around. Took everything in me to not come up to you. Looked like you found yourself a nice little boyfriend though?”

“He was trying really hard but no… no dice for that guy,” you told him.

You pushed his glasses back up and your arms wrapped around his neck. He grinned back at you, his fingers tracing along your exposed back.

“I’m assuming you’re liking what you’re seeing?”

“Very much,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the hem of your suit.

You nuzzled your nose to his. “Hmm. So we know where this is going?”

<><><>

You stood in front of the mirror, completely bare. Steve had brought you back to their villa. Tony’s wife was gone, off to a spa treatment. The room had a wide door open to the patio overlooking the ocean. There was a hot tub and pool on the patio and although you wanted to indulge, you refrained. You got undressed for them instead, waiting for them to get antsy enough to take charge. It did not take long as you predicted.

Tony came up from behind you, nude as well. His hands ran across your breasts, cupping.

“Don’t you look marvelous…” he murmured, his fingers tweaking at your erect nipples. You bucked ever so slightly, and he smirked. His nose came to nuzzle into the nape of your neck. “I knew I chose right… a perfect gem.”

“You still seem to like what you’re seeing?”

He chuckled, one hand snaking down to toy with the top of your sex.

“You’re gonna look even better underneath that mirror.”

You turned in his arms, your forehead pressing against his. “A man that likes to review his work. I don’t know if I should be worried.”

“I didn’t get to where I am by being a half ass.”

Steve was at your other side and he enveloped you to him. To both of them, you asked, “Any critiques?”

“Loaded question,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, the biggest is you haven’t sunk one of your holes on either of us. I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the company.”

He kissed the tip of your nose lightly, “And I’m sorry for being so charismatic.”

“I’m assuming you can’t multitask then? Be charismatic and fuck me at the same time?”

A low growl left his mouth now, “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at fucking all,” he told you pulling you over to the bed.

Steve was looking upwards, and you knew he was taking in the sight of you hovering over him as you sunk onto his length in the ceiling mirror. His eyes were swimming with arousal and you hoped to always be the cause for that.

<><><>

“Y/N, you got a gift,” Wendy said, pointing at the table as you walked into the brothel’s kitchen. You had come in to get a drink but smiled seeing the bouquet and gift.

“Really?” you asked, letting your backpack fall from your shoulder and along with your carry-on drop to the ground. You had just gotten back from Mexico; that was quick if it was from who you thought it was. Upon seeing the flowers, you knew your assumption had been correct. They had asked you what your favorite flowers were and even though that was extremely obvious why they were asking, you had told them all the same.

The bouquet was large and there was a nice heart balloon in the center. You smiled, leaning in and smelling the flowers deeply.

“Where’d you get those from?” Elisha asked, coming into the kitchen. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, giving a little laugh, “I know exactly where those came from.”

“There’s also this,” you said picking up the gift bag from beside it, waving it at her.

“That’s dangerous,” Elisha commented, grabbing the bloody mary that Wendy had made her. They must have had a rough night.

You shrugged again, opening the bag. Your lips curled into a smile as you pulled out a bright blue teddy. “Cute,” you giggled. Elisha and Wendy shook their heads, taking a drink. You held it up against your body and asked, “Think they want me to wear it for next time?”

“I don’t think they bought it for shits and giggles,” Wendy snorted. “How was the trip?”

“It was nice.”

“Good to hear it. You should relish in this.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, putting the teddy back into the bag. You thought of the extra money that Steve had tucked into your bag, remembering that you should tuck that away. It was smarter to not spend all the money that was thrown at you. That is what fools did; you needed to think ahead.

<><><>

The dress was loose and casual, perfect for the saloon they had asked you to meet them at. They had sent a car for you and met you at the curbside. When you got out, you looked around, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of them dressed in nice, pressed jackets. You were going into a dive bar, what were they doing?

Tony took your arm, Steve trailing behind. “Hmm, a sun pattern,” Tony commented, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your dress.

You gripped his arm, smiling. “I like to be a shining beacon in people’s lives.”

Tony chuckled in response, his grip tightening on your waist. The bouncer did not ask for your IDs; they must know them. It was dimly lit, packed. There were dancers on the stage and your eyes were drawn to their movements. The woman dancing had curves to die for.

“Where we going?” you asked as they led you through the bar. Your eyes ran around the tables the further you went in. Did they have a reservation?

“For the real party, sweetheart,” Tony told you, his lips brushing your ear. You shivered at the touch.

It was dark back here and you tensed. Tony felt it, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.”

Two men were standing in front of a door and they opened it when they saw the three of you approaching. There was a table with a group of other men, looking like they were waiting for the three of you. There were a handful of other women sitting around the perimeter of the room behind the players. They made brief eye contact with you, sizing you up quickly before averting their eyes again.

“Took you fucking long enough,” one of them drawled at Tony and Steve.

“Sorry, we were waiting for our lucky dame,” Tony returned.

Tony kissed your hand as you sat, before he turned away and sat in his chair. Steve’s hand grazed you affectionately, before he sat down as well.

You sat quietly, watching them play. It was poker, that much you knew. It was intense, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. They were taking this seriously and you surmised they were gambling a bunch of money.

Steve was staring across the table at the first man who had spoken to them when they walked in, his eyes narrowed. The other man was not flinching but something must have been a tell for Steve because he pushed chips forward.

“Well, senator… I’m gonna raise you,” Steve commented.

Your heart stopped a bit, hearing him call him that. Your eyes narrowed at the man across the table. You did not pay attention to politics but the way the man’s face scrunched at Steve’s tone… you knew he had to be one. A senator. What had you let them drag you into?

The man chewed on his lip before throwing his cards down on the table without showing what they were.

Steve’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he held out his hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” the man snarled before getting up from the table. He buttoned his suit jacket, leaving the room without a second glance.

“Sore loser,” Steve commented, much to the amusement of the other men at the table to your surprise. You thought they would be more angry about losing the money they had but maybe the man had been a common enemy.

They gathered up the chips, tossing them into a bag. Tony’s hand snaked around your waist.

“Wanna spend this?” Tony asked, grinning broadly, holding the bag up to you as he guided you towards the door. You giggled and he kissed your cheek. “Steve’s treated us. But especially you, baby.”

<><><>

Pulling your dress back on over your head, you straightened it, making sure it was covering your ass. It was short and you did not need to be flashing anyone on the sidewalk.

“You sure you don’t want me to order you a cab…?” the man asked from behind you, taking a long drag on his joint. He was still lying in bed, watching you get dressed.

Confidently, you turned around, fluffing your hair. You shook your head, “It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he said, shooting you a smile.

“I try to be,” you said winking at him, grabbing your purse.

You left his place quickly, heading back to the brothel. It was not a lie, it was not far.

The distance did not matter though when it came to what was waiting for you outside.

A hand closed around your arm, yanking you into an alley. You screamed but another hand slapped across your mouth as you were slammed up against the wall. Your heart was pounding, your eyes wide in fear staring at your assailant.

Your fear melted away to a mixture of anger and disgust. You would recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. You had stared into them far too many times as he towered over you, beating you into submission. You had run away from them far too many times, locking yourself in the bedroom until he got tired of trying to beat the door down.

Garnering strength from a place you did not know existed, you shoved him away, much to his surprise. He did not expect you to fight back, and he stumbled back.

“Have you been fucking following me?” you demanded, your chest heaving.

“Just interested to see what you’ve been doing since you ran off. Looks like you are visiting a bunch of men,” Jared sneered at you, getting back on his game and closing the space between you. Your fists clenched by your sides and he noticed, smirking. “You gonna hit me?”

“No,” you spat.

“So, what’s got you leaving someone’s apartment this time of night, baby?”

“That is none of your business.”

He shoved you back into the wall and you winced against the cement scratching at your skin. You swallowed it though, clenching your jaw, glaring at him. You were acting far braver than you felt. Jared always had the power to make you feel small and weak and it seemed just his presence had that same power. You felt just as helpless as you did a year and a half ago. He was frightening; you knew what violence he could unleash.

“What’s this?” Jared asked, yanking at your purse.

“Nothing, it’s my purse!” you said, your hands closing around it to try to yank it back from him.

“Looks pretty expensive, Y/N… Marc Jacobs? What have you been up to?”

He gave another hard yank, and the chain broke and you hissed against the pressure against your shoulder as it snapped away from you. You reached for it and he shoved you back again, harder this time and you let out a pained noise. Your eyes searched the buildings that surrounded you, hoping someone would be looking out the windows and be able to come to help you. It looked like no such luck.

He yanked out the hundreds the man you had just left had given you.

His eyes were dark, glowering at you. “Where’d you get this?”

“From work!”

His backhand was swift, knocking you off balance. But he was there to catch your falling momentum only to slam you up against the wall for the third time, his forearm pressed into your throat. You gasped, trying to breathe.

“You left me to spread your legs all over the city?”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaimed pitifully, trying to deny it. Your hands clawed at his arm and he only pressed in harder, making you gasp more desperately.

“I saw you go into that building with that man. Yes, I was following you! And you come back out with all this money? I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a worthless slut.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and he growled, “You always did cry too soon for my liking.”

Your purse fell to the ground and his other hand reached up between your legs. You tried to fight him, and he socked you this time. Your head knocked against the wall and you saw stars.

Jared pushed away and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. You squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to gain back some sense of balance.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout from far off.

All you could see was Jared’s shoes coming in and out of your vision. You felt a sharp pain in your stomach making you lose all your breath before his shoes were gone. You blinked again before losing consciousness as you saw a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight.

~~~

Tags: coconutqueen21

[taeyongtime]

silver cufflinks

genre: escape artist!taeyong | circus!au

featuring: NCT’s Taeyong

word count: 7,467 words

a/n: an idea of old that i finally managed to execute after 3 years and a culmination of 14 handwritten pages :) 

“Have you heard? Neon Lights is in town!”

You shake your head, never heard the name before.

“You’ve never heard of the Neon Lights Circus?” Your friend’s jaw drops in awe, unbelieving of such a thing. “It’s only the best circus in all of Asia!

“Surely your father has heard of them? Didn't you say he used to perform with a circus?”

“That was a long time ago,” you ponder, recalling all the wild stories from your father’s travels with a wandering circus. “Isn’t this Neon Lights relatively new?”

“Twenty years is hardly new.”

Urged to ask about Neon Lights, you give in and promise to ask your father once you return home. However, the question goes unasked when you see the circle of family surrounding the door to your parents’ bedroom, the upcoming announcement completely unexpected.

“Your father… he’s gone, dear.”

—

You clutch the locked leather-bound volume in hand, following the person in front closely as the line moves slowly towards the ticket booth of the Neon Lights circus. The hype not to be underestimated, what looked to be fifty people are already lined up once the circus’ nighttime hours had been announced one hour prior. Some were new faces who wanted to get a taste of what the acclaimed circus had to offer, others familiar patrons who couldn’t wait to see what was new in store compared to previous shows. All in all, the anticipation for entry is palpable, tingling excitement dancing in the air while the line inched its way up.

Finally, you make it to the booth, handing over the correct amount of money in exchange for an admissions ticket. Green-and-black striped tents greet you once you pass the iron gates, neon lights fitting of the circus’ name dotting the main path. Elaborate signs boasting of acts and other surprises do little to catch your attention, only one goal in mind today as you pass each tent that isn’t the one you wanted. However, you can’t seem to find the tent in question, opting to pop into the next one you see to ask for directions.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble, bumping paths with the figure dressed in black before the fire breathers’ tent. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” he dismisses, brushing the sleeves of his black blazer, “You’re good.”

“By the way, do you know where I can find the escape artist?”

He arches an eyebrow. “The escape artist?”

“…Never mind.”

Lifting the curtains, you pass him and enter the tent. Three fire breathers are still in uniform, skipping around the stage with flaming torches in their hands.

“Hey,” you yell at the top of your lungs. “Do any of you know where the escape artist is?”

“Can’t hear you,” hollers the one juggling three torches at once. “Come closer!”

You climb over the rope separating the audience seats from the performers, already halfway up the stage until you feel yourself pulled back down.

“You could’ve died standing so close to the fire breather,” hisses the man you’d bumped into outside, “Follow me.”

“Why should I?”

“I didn’t know you were so desperate to meet me that you’d stick your face into blazing fire to ask my whereabouts.”

“Wait, you’re the escape artist?”

◇

The escape artist’s tent is smaller than expected, a ring of thirty chairs circling the performing space that provides no covers for any sleight of hand. He gestures for you to sit in any of the open chairs and you let out a cry of surprise at hearing the shrill caw overhead.

“My raven won’t bite,” he reassures, reaching a hand to pet the bird that lands on his left arm. “Henry is quite friendly.”

You take a seat and remember the locked journal, extending it to him.

“My father left this for you.”

“Who’s your father?”

“Have you heard of the magician Eriol Kim? That’s my father’s stage name.”

He must know, the downcast glance and dipped head obvious signs that he was familiar with your father.

“Can you open the journal?” you ask, offering the locked volume again. “No one in the family’s been able to open it even though we were left with the key.”

“Let me see.”

He takes the journal and studies the lock, turning the book in his hands before reaching behind his ear and pulling out a bobby pin. Twisting the pin, he sticks the gadget into the lock, fiddling with it a few times before hearing the satisfactory click.

“Old man probably left you guys with a fake key,” he reasons, flipping through the pages. “Had to quench your thirst for answers but still keep his secrets a secret.”

“What kind of secrets?”

The escape artist smiles, placing the lock back in place.

“Secrets.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you pester him some more but he zips his lips.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for tonight’s show.”

“Hey, you can’t just kick me out, you weirdo!”

“The name’s Taeyong,” he drawls, waving his fingers in a cheery goodbye. “Maybe we can talk more when you come by again tomorrow.”

—

You end up going back to the circus tomorrow and the day after, each night determined to convince Taeyong to let you see your father’s journal. Not once does the escape artist comply, even giggling playfully when he decides he wants your assistance in a performance. Under the pressure of the audience, you find yourself obliging, soon earning yourself an assistant title to the regulars that stop by every night to watch him perform.

“And now my lovely assistant will set fire to the barrel!”

You get up at hearing the cue and extract the lighter from your pocket, eyeing the barrel warily. The speakers overhead crackle, Taeyong assuring the audience he is unable to push open the barrel’s lid.

“If my assistant can prepare—”

Caught off guard by the utterance, you drop the lighter before he can finish, a quick flame growing at the base of the barrel. The prepared sticks of firewood and gasoline catches almost immediately, fear and excitement mixed into the audience’s response.

“Fire, fire…”

Hushed murmurs of fire echo across the circle, and the only thing on your mind is the fire extinguisher—which you run towards and focus the nozzle on the flaming barrel. Puffs of white envelop the on looking audience, your heart thumping erratically as the flames die out. Timing key in pulling off a successful act, you knew full well one mishap like that can shift the entire performance towards failure and ultimately an untimely death.

Please don’t be in there, please tell me you freed yourself before…before…

“Well, that was a close one.”

Taeyong steps out from the cloud, hair tinged white as he brushes his blazer and pants dry with his hands. Everyone cheers, already forgetting the impending risk of his death from the barrel that had been set aflame earlier than arranged.

“Thank you,” he bows, shooting a quick smirk at the crowd. “It is my honor to perform for you tonight!”

Once tonight’s audience leaves his tent, you run towards him and grab him by the shoulders, checking to see if he is still in one piece.

Taeyong laughs at your antics. “What are you doing?”

“You… You’re not dead.”

He scoffs. “Of course not.”

“…Thank goodness, I...” 

Slumping to the ground, you shake your head as you process the prior events once more. Thankfully nothing had gone awry and Taeyong had made it out before the barrel burned to bits and pieces, your mistake passed off as an added measure of suspense for his escape. 

“I have something for you.”

Looking up, your eyes land on the slip of green paper in his hands, bordered in metallic ebony with emerald lettering at the center.

“What is this?”

“Unlimited access pass,” he explains, “So you don’t have to pay to get in.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll come back after nearly killing you tonight.”

He grins, cheekiness rolling off his shoulders. “You’re not going to leave when you still don’t know what your father wrote in his journal.”

You let out a chuckle. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Now it is his turn to sit down, crossing his legs as he rocks to and fro. 

“You don’t want to know your father’s secrets?”

“Secrets are called secrets for a reason,” you begin, still holding tight to the unlimited access pass. “These things weren’t mine to begin with and I should respect that.”

Taeyong nods, silver earrings glistening in the lamp light. “I respect you for it, Y/N.”

You startle, staring at him wide-eyed. “How do you know my name?”

“Did some research of my own after you told me Eriol was your father. He said he’ll introduce me to you someday when I first started studying under him.”

“Really? He’s never mentioned you to me before.”

A dry laugh tickles his throat. “Probably didn’t bother anymore after I left without telling him.”

You sense there is a deeper story behind the relationship Taeyong had with your father, but don’t bother to ask.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he concludes, extending a hand to help you up after hopping back on his feet. “Come on, I’ll show you around the rest of the circus.”

You take the offered hand and pull yourself up, scowling. “I don’t need you when I’ve been around the rest of the circus before.”

“Have you seen the white tigers in the Wild Cats tent?”

“There’s a separate tent for tigers?”

The disgusted look on his face says it all. “Clearly you still haven’t been to the best tents around here.”

—

The call at 4pm is unexpected, much less the name that appears on caller ID.

Not sure when Taeyong had inputted his phone number into your device or when he had gotten hold of your contact information, you ignore the ringtone and return to enjoying the fresh cup of oolong tea and just baked sugar cookies for the midday snack. Barely having two sips of tea, you grumble when the phone rings again, this time answering and ready to tell him off for interrupting your teatime.

“What do you want, weirdo?”

“Hello, is this Y/N? Mister Lee Taeyong is currently at the police station; he said this is a good number to reach you, his friend?”

“Excuse me?”

You arrive at the police station thirty minutes later, eyes widened at seeing the limp figure slumped over the table.

“Taeyong?”

Taeyong lifts his head up at hearing his name, the officers standing next to him following closely behind.

“What the…”

He giggles, face flushed as he proudly holds up his hands, an officer cuffed to each wrist.

“Mister Lee claims he misplaced the key,” the office on the right begins calmly, “He gave us your name and contact information when we asked if there is anyone else who may know how to unlock his handcuffs.”

“Um… I can try.”

You kneel to meet Taeyong at eye level, doing your best to not get distracted by the puppy-dog eyes and giggly expression on his face. You smell a faint hint of alcohol; how much had he drank to reach such a wasted state that he had managed to handcuff two well-trained police officers to him?

“Weirdo, how much did you drink? Where is your key?”

“Dunno,” he slurs, letting out a hiccup. “Had one bottle, two?”

“Not even that much,” you mutter, reaching your hands into his jacket pockets and coming up empty. “Lightweight.”

“I cuffed two officers, Y/N. You’re under arrest, officers!”

Ignoring the grumbles and displeasure at being cuffed by a mere civilian, you suddenly remember his bobby pin trick. Reaching by his ear, your fingers grab hold of the pin tucked in his hair, easing it out and fiddling it into each cuff.

The officers wring out their hands once freed, and you quickly help a dizzy Taeyong up.

“Sorry for all the trouble,” you apologize on his behalf, “It won’t happen again.”

◇

Taeyong opens his eyes to find himself in a home that isn’t his tent, the surroundings completely unfamiliar until he sees the photo frame on the nightstand by the bed. 

A family photo. He spots his mentor immediately, as stoic as ever posing tight-lipped before the camera.

“I’m sorry for running away, Teacher.”

Sitting up, he eases off the bed and makes a lap around the apartment, taking note of where your things are placed. Not too shabby for someone raised by a magician, although his mentor had also been one to keep a messy desk once he sees the haphazardly scattered papers and uncapped pens on your work table. He starts to reorganize, but pauses midway when he spots the clipped newspaper article.

Impossible. How could he have not realized that was why you’d suddenly appeared in his life?

“Hey, you’re awake.”

He turns at hearing your voice, staring you down.

“Why didn’t you tell me Eriol is dead?”

You manage a soft smile, taking off your sneakers and easing into a pair of purple slippers. “I thought you already knew the moment I gave you his journal.”

“How could I…”

He slams a hand on the table, ignoring the shrill screech at his fingers crushing the small porcelain cup just below his fist. Blood starts to trickle from the shards embedded in his skin, and you hurriedly sit him down before rushing to grab the first-aid kit.

“Idiot... This might hurt, can you withstand it?”

“It’s fine,” he insists, the wince at the first pluck betraying him already. “Don’t… Don’t bother.”

“You owe me a new tea set,” you mutter, plucking out a second and third shard of porcelain. “I’m going to make you buy me an expensive one to make up for it.”

The ramble about tea sets does its job to distract him from the pain. Soon, his hand is porcelain-free and bandaged all the way around, much to his dismay as he twists his wrist and scowls at seeing the mummified right hand.

“This is my good hand you bandaged up.”

“Then don’t perform tonight,” you point out, “You should be resting if you sustained an injury.”

—

He surprisingly follows your lead, not returning to the circus later in the evening. Social media explodes with posts regarding his no-show, but he is not bothered at all. It is rare for him to have a chance to spend time away from the circus, let alone do things other than perform escape tricks.

Tonight, he can live as Lee Taeyong the regular civilian, not Taeyong the escape artist of the Neon Lights circus.

“What is this?”

“A claw machine,” you explain, pointing at the assortment of plush toys kept contained in the red box. “You’ve never played one before?”

“…No.”

Without another word, you pull him inside the arcade. Bright lights and jingling game music greets your ears, the splash of colors across the perimeters enough to send your head spinning with indecision on which machine to play. Not many people besides you and Taeyong, luckily no one recognizes him as a member of the circus.

“Can you get me that one?” you ask, pointing at a pink bunny tucked in the back corner.

“You actually want a toy from here?” he quips, arching an eyebrow. “And me to get it for you?”

“Please,” you pout, batting your eyelashes. “You’re so good with your hands!”

He holds up the bandaged right hand and you gulp.

“I forgot about that.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “Step aside and I’ll see what I can do.”

You insert a coin into the slot and he grabs hold of the joystick, angling the claws directly above the bunny. Pushing the button to lower the claw, the prongs are dropped low, opening and closing into empty air before makings its way up again.

“Another one,” Taeyong mutters, eyes fixed on the toy. “We’re not leaving until I get you that bunny.”

It takes him a good two hours and an entire basket of coins to become familiar with the machine, finally maneuvering the claws deftly to pick up the bunny and drop it out. Your excited squeal brings a rare smile to his face, the first of the night. Refusing to take a stab at a different machine, Taeyong pulls you after him to play a shooting game, proving his skill once again when he secures the most kills in all three rounds of killing zombies. Darts, basketball hoops, even a coin toss is easy.

You raise the white flag after he changes his mind about the claw machine, securing almost five more stuffed plush toys under his belt before calling it quits.

“I didn’t think I’d have so much fun,” he admits after stepping out of the arcade under close watch from arcade staff. “The claw is actually not that hard to operate.”

“They were ready to pull you aside for questioning,” you laugh, swinging your stuffed bunny by its ear. “It took you only twenty minutes to get even their bigger toys out of the machines.”

“I gave all those back,” Taeyong drawls, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves. “I was only trying hard for the bunny.”

“Thank you,” you grin, waving the bunny’s left paw in thanks. “Bunny is happy to go to her new home.”

“Sure.”

He makes an extra point to escort you home at such a late hour, his mere presence reassuring while you turn the corner and spot your apartment complex amid the single alit streetlight.

“This is it,” you begin, turning to him with a soft smile. “Thank you again for tonight.”

Taeyong returns the smile with an even rarer toothy grin. “I should be thanking you for showing me how fun claw machines are.”

“You must have had a lot on your mind tonight. Drinking and not wanting to perform.”

Your words catch him off guard, hitting a little too close to home. 

“Yeah.”

Conversation quickly slows, neither knowing what to say until he breaks the silence.

“Good night, Y/N. I’d better go before it gets too late.”

“Wait,” you blurt out, “When can I see you again?”

He replies immediately. “Tomorrow morning. You don’t want to miss tomorrow morning’s show.”

The anticipation already has you excited for tomorrow, so much so that you end up taking a quick shower and turning into bed early for the so-called surprise.

—

You wait until the rest of the crowd is gone, running towards Taeyong and cupping his face in your hands.

“Is your mouth okay?”

“Never better,” Taeyong answers, opening and closing his mouth to prove it. “Why?”

“The threaded needles… how did you swallow all of that with just a drink of water?”

His eyes twinkle with a knowing glint that he knew more than he was letting on.

“Practice.”

Not satisfied with his answer, you proceed to snake your hands into his blazer, empty-handed and needle-less once you finish the pat down.

“Where are the needles?”

“I knew you’d search me, so I already put them away.”

The cheeky smile on his face said it all; you punch him lightly in teasing and he pretends to wince from pain. The gesture is feigned, but you stop, concern replacing the playfulness in your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” you blubber, unable to stop the tremble in your voice. “I… I didn’t mean…”

“I’m fine,” he laughs, tilting his head in confusion. “Just playing with you.”

“O…Oh.”

He picks up on your sudden retreat, taking a step forward and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Sorry,” he whispers, the soft murmur so unlike the playful and confident persona he possessed on stage. “I won’t do that again.”

Unsure how to react, you quickly look away and wiggle out of his grip. His hand lingers midair before dropping against his sides, equally as awkward after the intimate touch.

“So… amazing show as usual,” you speak up, easing into a new topic. “There’s always something new every night.”

“Thanks.” The response is a heavy one, loaded with more weight than called for. “I appreciate it.”

“You don’t sound happy at the compliment.”  

He sighs, taking a seat on the ground. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I… I’ve been wanting to leave the circus.”

“Leave?” you echo. “And go where?”

“I don’t know. I’ve wanted to leave for a long time now; I feel that there’s more to the world than these green-and-black striped tents.”

“Then go.”

“There’s no way I can leave this circus. There’s a special clause in the contract I signed with the ringmaster:

“Undying loyalty is the price you must pay

“for Death to take a step back on your few remaining days.”

You frown at the cryptic words. “I don’t understand, Taeyong.”

He proceeds to take off his blazer, bare torso and chest decked with scars of multiple lengths. Varying in depth as well, you can see where fatality may have struck if the wound had sunk just a little deeper, been inflicted a few centimeters in one direction or the next. Multiple close calls with Death’s door right in front of your face.

“Don’t cry,” Taeyong groans, tremors underlying the toughness in his tone as he puts the garment back on. “Don’t… Don’t make me feel like shit for making you cry.”

The sniffles and tears are unstoppable. “Did they do that to you? For wanting to leave?”

“No. These were all from natural causes that happened to me after I made clear I wanted to leave.”

He gestures to the left collarbone area, just short of the neck. “I have two here from the knife thrower’s misses, even though their knives never miss.” The guiding finger moves down to the right side of his waist. “Burns from the fire breathers, bites from the wild cats that are usually so docile in front of their trainers, the list goes on.”

You don’t want to hear any more. “I… I can try to put in a good word. Maybe I can use my father’s name to—”

Taeyong shakes his head. “It’s no use. The contract is binding.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It is what it is.” He reaches a hand forward. “Come on, I’ll show you the tents you haven’t been to yet.”  

You slap his hand away. “Don’t try to shift the conversation.”

Any remaining excuses cease, the morning soiled. Without waiting for a response, you exit his tent and start to inquire about the ringmaster and each performer’s contract with the circus, determined to help him gain his freedom from the circus that kept him bound to its paper chains.

—

The impending mention of Neon Lights’ departure to America brings little to be disappointed about, especially when you hadn’t gotten anywhere in discovering how to nullify Taeyong’s contract with the circus. 

No form of records existed besides old articles praising the astounding performances. The lineup hadn’t changed since the founding of the circus: acrobats, magicians, clowns, wild cat tamers, knife throwers, fire breathers, and the escape artist. Your head spun in circles during those weeks of research, frustrated at the inability to find the link that connected these broken pieces of Taeyong’s vague narrative.

“Have you packed all your things?”

Your turn at the sound of your mother’s voice, shaking your head. “Not quite.”

She steps over the opened suitcase on the floor and takes a seat on the bed.

“Are you sure you want to go with me to Hong Kong?”

“Yup. I just need to decide what remaining clothes I want to bring over.”

Not convinced, she takes your hand and squeezes, the touch simultaneously comforting and freezing you in place. You open your mouth, but fail to form words into a cohesive sentence. How were you supposed to tell her about Taeyong? How were you supposed to tell her the reason you readily accepted to leave was to avoid a man who had somehow snaked his way into your heart without you knowing it? 

“If there’s someone you want to stay here for, you can.”

“Mom, I…”

“You’ve been leafing through your father’s things,” she interjects, “I see the name ‘Taeyong’ in your notes often and found that name in one of your father’s pictures with his students.”

“Do you know him?” you ask curiously. 

“Not well,” she admits with a sigh, “Your father was always very excited whenever he mentioned that boy. Said he had finally found an appropriate successor to his work, but then…”

“But then?”

“Taeyong disappeared one day. No note, just gone. Your father was so shocked he wouldn’t leave his study for an entire month.”

“Oh.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

You nod. “Taeyong’s a member of the Neon Lights circus that’s currently in town.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Biting back a snappy retort, you return to packing and soon fill in the remaining space in your suitcase.

“Do you need to say goodbye?” she asks, getting up from the bed and zipping shut the suitcase. “We won’t be back for quite some time.”

“The circus is leaving for America next,” you mumble, “I haven’t spoken to him since he told me they were leaving.”

She doesn’t pry further, excusing herself and leaving to your own devices. The lingering thought of Taeyong is stifling, plaguing both your head and heart about the indecision between letting him know of your departure or not.

“Damn it, that idiot is getting in my head.”

◇

Taeyong sits before the mirror with a scowl on his face, thoughts muddled on why you haven’t shown up since he told you about tonight’s final show in the city before leaving for America. The grand finale performance already halfway in session, it will not be long before it is his turn to go on.

“Taeyong, you’re up!”

Gritting his teeth, he abandons his spot backstage and makes his way onto the main stage, basking in the spotlight and roaring applause at his entrance. One low bow and he frowns, feigning surprise at his already cuffed hands. Two fire breathers juggle torches around him, eventually escorting the escape artist as planned off to the side and into a large box. He listens for the cue to start once another lock is inserted into the hatch, preventing an escape from a mere push from the inside. The handcuff key already extracted from the secret pocket sewn into his blazer, his thoughts return to you and he begins to ponder on why you haven’t answered any of his calls or messages. Had he offended you the night he told you about his contract with the circus?

“Presenting now, the tank!”

The box suddenly lifts into the air, shifting him off balance at the abrupt movement. His fingers lose hold of the key; it is too narrow of a space to kneel to try and retrieve it.

Fuck, there better not be—

His ears pick up the sound of gushing water, confirming his fears once he is set down on a flat surface, presumably the springboard directly above the open tank. Prior rehearsals hadn’t consisted of a filled water tank, much less being encased in a box when the original execution of the trick only required locks by the feet.

“Can Taeyong escape from the locked box while cuffed and submerged in water?” the announce asks the audience.

“Yes!”

No. No, I can’t.

“Do you believe in him?”

No! This wasn’t in the original trick that I had practiced for!

“Yes!!”

The box is pushed off the platform, and Taeyong’s mind goes blank upon spotting the water that starts to seep in while his hands are still locked in cuffs.

—

[four months later, Hong Kong]

Fate catches you off guard when you least expect it, the subway ads for the Neon Lights circus a sight for sore eyes. Not even six months into the stay in Hong Kong and the circus is already snaking its way back into your life, bringing along memories of the escape artist who’d had such close ties to you even before your initial meeting. You had ultimately decided not to tell Taeyong about leaving for Hong Kong, flight of departure coincidentally on the same day as the circus’ finale show before leaving for America. Now, upon seeing the ad, you wonder if you should stop to say hello for old time’s sake. 

Of course, that is assuming he is still performing with them and not…

You hand rummage through your bag, taking out the black wallet and the green slip is still inside as expected. One unlimited access pass granting free admission into the Neon Lights circus with no mention of an expiration date.

“Opening night at 6pm… Surprises galore…”

—

The line outside the circus is twists around two entire blocks, popular no matter where it goes. Clutching the access pass in hand, you take a step forward but pause in your tracks. Were you ready to see Taeyong again? Would he be mad at seeing you here when he’d taken extra care to inform you about the last show in your city? 

What was he to you, even? A friend? Or perhaps something more?

“You’re not going in?”

The masked figure tilts his head in confusion, a gesture you recognize immediately upon hearing his voice.

“Isn’t that the unlimited access pass I gave you? Did it expire?”

“No… It still works, Taeyong.”

He quickly grabs your hand and pulls you aside, away from the turning heads that had heard the escape artist’s name.

“I didn’t tell anyone I’m skipping opening night,” he hisses, “Don’t be so loud next time.”

“Me, loud?” you echo, shaking his head away. “You’re the one who snuck out!”

“Why didn’t you show up during the finale show?”

As expected, he gets straight to the point.

“Family emergency,” you answer. “I had a flight to catch.”

He narrows his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Relative on my mom’s side. She’s getting better, but we're staying longer just to make sure.

“Did America treat you well?”

“I was recuperating during the American portion of our travels.”

Concern flickers in your eyes. “H-How did you get hurt?”

He spits bitterly at recalling the incident. “Unexpected variables during one of my escapes. Nearly drowned to death if one of the clowns hadn’t noticed things were too still up on stage.”  

“But you never slip up, not even during the most pressuring circumstances.”

“I was preoccupied in my thoughts.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“…You.”

His answer is not one you’d predicted; you laugh it off and wave a hand over your face in dismissal.

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“...Oh.”

“Are you going in?” he asks again. “I can get us to the front of the line in a matter of seconds.”

“Do you… Do you actually have some time to grab dinner?”

“Sure.”

An hour of catching up at a local diner later, you exit the establishment with a cup of hot milk tea in hand, Taeyong holding open the door for you since your hands were full. Outside, the night is still young, streets teeming with people and signs brightly alit from cafes, boutiques, and more.

“Can I escort you home?” he asks, rubbing his hands together in the chilly air. “I don’t want to go back to the circus just yet.”

You take in the thin blazer and ripped jeans adorned on his lithe body. “Care for a coffee at my place to warm up before you go?”

“I’d love that.”

Upon arriving at your apartment, you note the blue slippers by the shoe cabinet, your mother still out as scheduled with her friends.

“Take a seat. Coffee will be ready in a bit.”

He follows you to the kitchen instead and snorts at seeing the stick of instant coffee powder in the black mug.

“What,” you grumble, “We don’t have an espresso machine or anything fancy like that here.”

“Instant coffee is fast,” he smiles, holding back a snicker. “I look forward to it.”

It doesn’t even take two minutes to prepare the coffee, but Taeyong takes his time with the drink, so slow that you wonder if he’s stalling to not leave so early.

“Is the coffee not to your liking?” you speak up. “You barely touched it.”

“Oh, it’s great.” He takes a larger sip, giving you thumbs up. “I just wanted to savor it.”

“There’s two more packs in the pantry if you want it.”

“Yes, please.”

You hear the door open by the time you hand off the second cup of coffee, your mother surprised at seeing Taeyong by the sofa.

“You are…?”

He bows low, careful to not drop the mug. “Hello, Ma’am.”

“Mom, this is Taeyong,” you begin, hurrying over to help her with her bags. “Taeyong, this is my mother.”

He nods again when she greets him and you pick to sit next to him, leaving a space for your mother on the other side.

“Have you had dinner?” she asks, addressing both of you.

“Yes,” he speaks up, beating you to it. “Y/N was kind enough to offer coffee since it’s so cold outside.”

“I wonder why,” you mutter under your breath, eyeing the large rips on his black jeans.

You tune out the small talk between your mother and Taeyong, not once taking your eyes off the latter. He seemingly notices, subtly shifting closer until the gap is closed and your shoulders are touching ever so slightly.

“Have you shown him your father’s things, dear? He’d probably like to see them.”

You stand up, shaking your head. “Want to see?”

Taeyong nods, following closely as you show him the way to your father’s study. Once inside, you step back and he approaches the desk first, leafing through the ample notebooks and eyes shifting to and fro at all the new information. None of it had made sense to you, but maybe it was more appropriate to have the right person see it, notably one who also followed the school of magic tricks and the escape arts.

“This is what I was practicing,” he gushes excitedly, beckoning you over. “I didn’t practice with water, but if I start to practice holding my breath...”

You peek over his shoulder, lips turned to a frown. “That looks dangerous.”

“Not if you have the proper equipment.” He continues to scroll past each page, eyes glowing like a child who’s been told Christmas had come early this year. The excitement palpable to grasp, you find your lips widening to a grin each time he makes a noise of delight on a new page, just as happy as he is about your father’s old notes.

The bubble of joy pops, however, with the sound of rain pitter-pattering against the windows, quickly growing into steady sheets of rainwater that pound hard on the glass.

“Have him stay for the night,” your mother’s voice echoes down the hall. “It’s late and raining too hard.”

“You heard her,” you begin, turning to Taeyong with your hands thrown up in defeat. “You’re staying the night.”

A mischievous smirk dances across his lips, briefly before he turns his back on you. “I’m good in here.”

“Are you sure? It’s more comfortable for you to sleep on the couch outside.”

“Who says I’ll be sleeping tonight?”

—

Thunder roars into the night, startling you awake. The clock on the nightstand reads 3am, hardly an hour for a sane person to be alert. You let out a yawn and shuffle out of bed, heading to the kitchen for a drink of water before turning in again.

On your way, you pass your father’s study and notice the slight crack in the door. Pushing it open, you feel your eyes widening at the sight of the empty desk. All your father’s notes and papers recording his life’s work in the escape arts gone, what hits the nail on the head is the absence of the man who had been so excited to see his teacher’s remaining research, gone without a trace.

“Taeyong?”

No words. The only sounds you hear are the rain and the clink of metal against the floorboards, the fallen handcuffs sending chills down your tired back.

—

You wonder why Taeyong is always on your mind, the man nothing more than one of your father’s former students.

Since his uncanny disappearance that one rainy night, you’d been unconsciously keeping an extra eye out whenever you pass by the circus. Fans of the escape artist were just as worried, not hearing any news of him for almost two full weeks now. Circus staff also had surprisingly nothing to say on the matter, sparking outrage at the supposed negligence for the performer’s health and wellbeing. All this hubbub over a man who had simply gone off the grid entirely… a small part of you had considered the possibility that he had planned this all along to hype up whatever trick he had tucked up his sleeves.

“Any news on Taeyong?”

The staff running the ticket booth shakes her head. “We’re trying our best to get more information from the administrators as well.”

Nodding in thanks, you cast an eye to the crowd waiting anxiously on the side and shake your head. Collective sighs echo across the group, but are soon replaced by curious murmurs at the string of ringtones and vibrations simultaneously emitted from everyone’s mobile devices. Your own included, you open the notification and find yourself automatically redirected to what looked to be a stage. The curtains part, revealing a dark-haired Taeyong in his signature fitted black blazer and ripped jeans.

“It’s Taeyong!”

“He’s alive, that’s really him!”

“Welcome!” the escape artist says warmly to the camera, “Thank you for tuning in to my broadcast!”

Why is this idiot livestreaming when he has an entire stage at the circus?

“Today I have a very special trick prepared,” he continues, “So special that I decided to broadcast my performance for everyone in the world to see!”

You immediately rush towards the ticket booth, the other twenty people thinking the same as bodies clamor to reach the entryway and get in to view the escape in person.

◇

The raven perched atop the wooden barrel lets out a shrill caw at seeing its master lock himself in a pair of handcuffs. Spooked by the abrupt noise, the young clown acting as Taeyong’s assistant shuffles backwards, nearly knocking over the stack of books on the table.

“Why are you so scared, little clown? Henry is a very nice bird.”

“A-Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, checking that the camera isn’t recording before continuing. “I-I don’t want to get in trouble if… if…”

Taeyong lets out a laugh, the raven flapping its wings in unison. “You don’t believe I’ll succeed?”

“It’s not that,” the clown replies hastily, “It’s just—”

“I did not spend all this time preparing away from prying eyes for nothing.” He smiles; it is a dangerous gesture that strikes fear in the youth. “This is my ticket to freedom from the shackles that is this stupid circus, you see.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Plus, you know what to do if you think something’s gone wrong.” 

He casts a glance at the sealed envelope at the center of the notes he took from your father’s study, a trace of longing flickering in his dark eyes. “Make sure you deliver that envelope to who it’s addressed for should anything happen to me.”

◇

Taeyong’s tent is empty once you enter the circus, leaving you stumped on his location when you see the water tank entering the frame. The setup for his trick resembled the diagram in your father’s notes: the stick figure hanging upside down into a tank of water, feet locked while in suspension. Not even your father could perform such a trick to an audience, the skill necessary to pull it off beyond his aptitude at his prime.

You’d always known Taeyong loved to push his performances to the limit, but this time it felt like a direct knock on Death’s door rather than a test of his skill in the art of escape.

Not finding him anywhere in the circus, you take a seat on the bench by the acrobats’ tent and reopen the online broadcast, your only link to Taeyong’s whereabouts. The camera pans out on the water tank placed center stage, filled to the brim and Taeyong already handing upside down above it.

You idiot…

“My assistants will begin to count down the seconds before I start,” he announces, grinning while inverted. “10!”

The two clowns below count down the remaining ten seconds, letting go after lowering him into the filled tank. Air bubbles already start to float to the surface, the footage rendering you immobile while gripping the phone with all your strength.

He’ll succeed. He… He has to succeed.

Handcuffs unlocked at last, he shows his freed hands to the front and the curtains draw together, obscuring the view of the tank. Everything is still and seemingly on the projected track for success—at least it is until your ears pick up the faint sound of a strangled cry behind the curtains.

The two clowns pick up on the mishap, rushing to check in on Taeyong. You scoot forward on the bench, heart in your hands while waiting for something—anything—to happen behind the screen. Comments start pouring in, everyone tuned in demanding to see what had happened and if the escape had been successful.

Finally, the curtains pull back, and you nearly faint from shock at seeing the broken tank. Puddles of water and broken shards of glass litter the stage, the clowns slumped unconscious off the side. They come to in the next thirty seconds, shaking their heads and equally as shocked once they spot the remains of the water tank. None of them knew what had happened, the single black feather in the middle of the stage sending a more ominous warning to the audience than cheers for unprecedented success.

“Taeyong, he… he’s gone.”

—

“Are you Y/N?”

You look up, greeted by the darkened sky and curious gaze of a clown half in makeup, a black raven perched on his left shoulder.

“Y..Yes, that's me.”

“Taeyong said to give this to you if anything happens to him.”

He hands over a sealed envelope, bulky in size. The raven takes off from its perch, briefly circling overhead before flying away into the night. Unsure on the purpose behind the delivery, you thank the clown and he bids a quick goodbye, leaving you on your own within the circus.

Taking a deep breath, you tear through the seal and a pair of handcuffs fall out of the envelope, followed by two slips of paper. The first piece is another unlimited access pass to the circus, while the second is ink-stained with scribbles scrawled messily along the lines. You set the handcuffs aside and pick up the second piece of paper, unable to stop the tears flowing down your face upon reading the handwritten letter from the escape artist himself.

◇

If you’re reading this letter, it means I either succeeded in my water chamber escape or died trying. I’m not going to tell you which because a magician never reveals his secrets.

Please forgive me for disappearing without letting you know what I’ve been doing. I wanted to do something no escape artist has ever done before, and I knew this was the greatest challenge yet when I saw the blueprint in your father’s notes. You’ll understand, right? Even if you don’t, even if you hate me for pushing myself to the limit for an escape trick, I’m content that I could perform and leave behind my name as one of the greatest escape artists in the renowned Neon Lights circus.

Are you angry at me for leaving things so messy like this? Don’t be. It’s not pretty when your eyes darken and lips purse into that familiar scowl of yours. I want you to remember me as someone who was very happy to have met you, even during all the times I annoyed you and used your father’s name to get you to come back to the circus to see me.

Now that I’m free, I’ll even tell you something else you’ll likely hate me for—I think I started to like you when I saw you worry about me after the fire extinguisher incident. I should’ve been mad at you for dropping the lighter early, but I couldn’t find it in me to do that. My apologies for not telling you sooner.

Yours, Taeyong.

◇

“Idiot,” you hiss, biting your lips hard enough to draw blood, “You’re an absolute idiot.”

[maybeimamuppet]

catch you when you fall

happy wednesday friends! quick tw for broken bones (nothing graphic) and a mention of animal death (once again nothing graphic)

---------

Cady hates the sound of her ringtone.

Not the sound itself, but the meaning behind it. Other than her parents, nobody calls her with any sort of regularity. Janis gets anxious making phone calls, Damian doesn’t have time, and all her other friends just prefer to text.

Which is why her heart nearly drops out of her chest when her phone starts ringing in the middle of a lecture. Luckily, it’s with her favorite professor, who just waves her off and continues as she excuses herself to answer it in the hallway.

She grimaces when she sees it’s from Damian, he knows she’s supposed to be in class and that she has a huge test next week. She needs to be in this lecture. But, if Damian is calling it must be something serious.

“Dame, I’m in the middle of a lecture, what is it?” She asks frantically.

“I know, Cads, I’m sorry, but...uh...” Damian trails off.

“Damian, please, I can only be out here for a few minutes,” Cady begs.

“Janisbrokeherarm.”

“She what? What the hell happened?! Wait, where are you? I’m on my way,” Cady asks rapidly, running back to her seat in the classroom to grab her bag before barreling out the door. She’ll explain to her professor later.

“We’re at the hospital, hold on,” Damian replies. Cady gets a text with directions to the correct one. “She came to visit me at work today, so I was showing her around, and she fell into the pit. It’s not far, but she landed weird and broke both bones in her forearm.”

“Poor thing. Can I talk to her?” Cady asks, wanting to hear her wife’s voice.

“She’s... kind of unconscious. She was freaking out about being in the hospital and in a lot of pain so they sedated her,” Damian says nervously.

“I thought she got over her thing about hospitals,” Cady mutters. “My poor darling. How are you doing, though?”

“I’m fine. I just... really don’t like broken bones. And hers were very broken,” Damian says.

“Oh, Damian, I’m sorry. I forgot you had that phobia,” Cady says worriedly. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“We’ve been taking care of each other for twenty years, I’m not about to stop now. But you should hurry, the doctor just said she’ll be up soon,” Damian replies, already sounding a bit better. “They said she’ll be pretty out of it, but she’ll want to see you.”

“I’m almost there,” Cady says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Love you,” Damian says before they hang up.

“Love you too, D.”

-

Once she finally arrives, Cady rushes up to the front desk with her ID already out. She signs in quickly before an intern leads her up to a small room.

Cady knocks on the door gently before pushing it open, finding a newly awake and very high Janis being cradled in Damian’s embrace. Cady sits in an uncomfortable chair by the bed, taking Janis’ unhurt hand and kissing her knuckles.

“Hi, darling, how are you feeling?” Cady asks gently.

“M’ arms tickle. ‘N this one doesn’ work,” Janis mumbles in reply, showing off her right arm with a dashing purple cast that goes almost to her shoulder.

“It will soon, sweetheart, you just have to wear the cast for a while,” Cady says comfortingly.

Janis finally looks at Cady, her eyes going almost comically wide in shock. She looks back and forth between Cady and Damian a few times as if making sure they’re both actually there. “Caddy?”

“Mmhmm. I’m right here,” Cady says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, but I’m here now.”

“You’re pretty. Will you be m’ girlfrien’?” Janis asks, looking to Damian for moral support.

Cady bursts out laughing. “I can’t be your girlfriend-“ she tries to say before getting cut off by a sniffle from Janis.

“Why not?” Janis asks pitifully, followed by a sad sob.

“Oh, darling, don’t cry,” Cady says frantically. “I can’t be your girlfriend because I’m already your wife, my love.”

“Really?” Janis asks with a sad sniffle.

“Mmhmm. See, your wedding ring is here,” Cady answers, lifting Janis’ left hand and pointing to her finger. “And mine is here.”

“Whoa. M’ wife. That’s so cool,” Janis says, totally starstruck by her wife. She reaches for Cady to hold her then, finally freeing poor Damian.

He stands and stretches, apparently having been there for a while longer than Cady had originally thought. “Janjan, are you hungry? I’m gonna see what they have in the cafeteria.”

“Wan’ nuggets,” Janis mumbles sleepily before he even finishes speaking.

“How many nuggets, darling?” Cady asks, cuddling her closer.

“All.” Janis insists. Damian blinks at her for a second before seeming to accept it.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Janis goes quiet for several minutes, seemingly content to just be held. Alas, it can’t last, and she pipes up again.

“Caddy?”

“Yes, Jellybean?” Cady replies.

“D’we have a dog?”

“No, we don’t, unfortunately,” Cady says as she tries to hold back a giggle.

“A cat?” Janis asks, getting more confused with every question.

“No cat either, I’m afraid,” Cady says.

“D’we have a baby?”

Cady freezes. She’s been meaning to ask Janis about children, but didn’t know how to bring it up. “No, we don’t have a baby yet, it’s just you and me for now,” She replies, deciding high Janis is probably not the one to discuss that with.

“Wha’ the hell’ve we been up to?” Janis demands. “No doggy, no kitty, no baby. W’ need something.”

Cady chuckles again. “We’ve only been married for a year, darling. Maybe we’ll talk about a cat once you’re less loopy.”

“Mmkay,” Janis hums, seeming content with that and nuzzling into Cady’s chest. Cady taps her awake when she realizes she’s falling asleep again.

“Don’t go to sleep, dearest, Damian will be back with your food soon,” she says as she drums her fingers on Janis’ cheeks gently.

“Mmh. Sleepy,” Janis whines.

Cady chuckles. “I know, Jellybean. But you need to stay awake so you can eat. You can nap when we get home, I promise. Look, Damian’s already back.”

“Hi, Dame,” Janis says with a bit more energy as he pulls around a table and rests her tray of food on it.

“Hi, Jan,” he chuckles in reply. “Here you go. They could only give me ten nuggets, I’m sorry.”

Janis glares at him as she tries to pick up her fork and grumbles under her breath about leaving a terrible review on Yelp. She blinks oddly at her hand when she can’t use it, wiggling her fingers as if she’s only just remembering she can control them.

“Caddy. M’ arm’s purple. Why’s it not workin’?” She demands, trying to grab her fork again.

“It’s broken, darling, that’s your cast. Use this hand,” Cady says gently as she taps Janis’ left hand.

“Oh.” Janis says. “I like purple.”

“That’s why we picked it, Janjan,” Damian says as he tries to hold back laughter. “Eat your food, you get discharged soon.”

Janis tries to eat again with her left hand, giving a quiet maniacal cackle when it actually works.

The doctor comes in with her discharge papers as Janis is munching happily on her fourth chicken nugget, explaining the proper care of her arm and cast to Cady upon noticing Janis is still fairly loopy. Cady thanks her and signs Janis out, letting Janis finish her food before they head home.

-

Janis falls asleep on the ride back, leaving Cady to haul her up to their apartment and into bed. She decides to email her professor an apology and get caught up on some schoolwork as she lies in bed next to her.

“Caddy? Wh’happent?” Janis asks groggily when she stirs a few hours later. She pauses when she tries to stretch, spying the bright purple cast covering her arm. “Ah, fuck.”

“You fell in the pit at Damian’s theater today, you broke your arm,” Cady answers with a giggle. “Do you remember anything?”

“I remember falling and then my arm hurt like a bitch, but nothing after,” Janis says confusedly.

“They had to sedate you at the hospital, you were hurting a lot and freaking out a bit,” Cady replies. “You were awake by the time I got there though.”

“I was? What did I do?” Janis asks, already dreading the answer.

Cady’s giggling only makes her feel worse. “Well, when you saw me you said I was pretty and asked if I would be your girlfriend.”

“Oh god,” Janis groans.

“And then you cried when I said no, until I told you we’re married,” Cady laughs harder.

“Oh god.”

“It was cute, don’t be embarrassed,” Cady teases, tickling her neck to get her to look back up.

“I’m not cute!” Janis insists.

“Yes you are. Anyway, um... you demanded Damian bring you all the chicken nuggets they had in the cafeteria and said you’d leave them a terrible review on Yelp when he could only give you ten, and then you asked me if we had a dog, and then when I said no you asked if we had a cat, and then when I said no to that too you asked if we had a baby.”

“Really?” Janis chuckles.

“Yeah. Then you got your food, asked me why your arm wasn’t working, and fell asleep on the ride home,” Cady says.

“Huh.” Janis hums. “Wait, baby, you were in class! Shit, I’m sorry-“

“Shh, Bluejay, it’s fine,” Cady hushes her. “My professor understands, and I can get notes later. It’ll be fine. You didn’t mean to fall.”

“That pit was not where it was supposed to be,” Janis grumbles. “Now I can’t straighten my arm.”

“You will soon, love,” Cady says. “Just a few weeks.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t be so fussy, you’ll be fine,” Cady chides. She knows she’s about to make a very abrupt subject change, but can’t hold back the question anymore. “Um... do you... actually want a baby? At some point?”

Janis sighs. “I’m not sure. Definitely not anytime soon, but down the line, I don’t know. I like the idea of it, but I don’t think I would make a very good parent.”

“I get that, but I think you would be great. You’re fun, but you’re also so gentle and sweet. And a fair bit more responsible than you used to be,” Cady replies.

“I fell in a hole in the middle of a stage,” Janis reminds her, holding up her cast.

“It’s a step up from the time you sprained your ankle running from that cow,” Cady says. “But really, I think you’d make a wonderful parent if you wanted to be.”

“I don’t know. I just, like- what if my anxiety acts up, or my depression? What if I can’t take care of them?” Janis asks, cuddling closer into her side.

Cady hums sadly. “Then we’d support you, and I’ll step up a little more until you can. You wouldn’t be doing this alone, Jayjay. And you’ve been doing so well lately, your communication is so much better, and your therapist really seems to be helping. You’ve never let anything stop you before, if we decide to have a child someday you shouldn’t let it stop you then either.”

Janis leans up to kiss her gently. “Thanks, Butterfly. I’ll think about it more.”

“If you want to. We have time,” Cady says gently. “In the meantime... maybe we should see about a cat?”

“Really?” Janis squeals. She’s been begging for a pet for months. Cady had to take her to get a rabies shot when she came home with a raccoon one day. Hopefully a cat will stop her from taking matters into her own hands.

“Sure, why not? It’s almost summer, I’ll have a little bit more free time to help with it,” Cady giggles. “One of my mom’s co-workers does cat rescues on the side, we can pick one when we go home for Julie’s birthday.” Janis practically tackles her to the bed, kissing her cheeks over and over.

“Hey, watch your arm,” Cady scolds gently when Janis nearly whacks it against the headboard. “What should we have for dinner?”

“It’s your turn to pick,” Janis replies confusedly.

“Your forearm is in four pieces, you get to pick tonight,” Cady says.

Janis thinks for a second. She might be able to swing something special because of her injury. She whips out her best puppy eyes to boost her chances too. “Can we make pizzas?”

Cady raises an eyebrow at her. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute, loser. Come on.”

-

“I had to be right handed,” Janis grumbles as she tries to knead the dough with her left.

“Switch with me, Jay, you can do this with one hand,” Cady says from where she’s stirring the sauce over the stove.

Janis pouts. “But I always do this.”

Cady turns the burner off and comes to hug Janis around the waist. “We’ll just have to adapt a little until your arm is better. You only have to have the cast for a little while, we’ll figure it out.”

“Fine,” Janis whines.

“Oh come on,” Cady coaxes as she pulls her into a kiss. “You’ll be fine. We’re having fun!”

Janis tries to fight a grin at Cady’s efforts to cheer her up. She’s just so cute, Janis wants her to keep going. “We are. I love you.”

“There you go. I love you too,” Cady says sweetly as she pops up to kiss her one more time. “Now come on, or we’ll never get to eat.

She slaps Janis’ ass lightly as she turns to the stove, prompting a squeal and a “Hey!”, but Cady just laughs and winks as she finishes the dough.

-

Janis pulls her into a hot mess of a kiss once Cady turns from putting their dinner in the oven and setting a timer.

Cady returns it, checking briefly to make sure Janis has her eyes closed before sneakily reaching to grab a small handful of flour from the bag behind her. She dumps it on Janis’ head right as she pulls back for a breath.

“Oh, you’re in for it now, Peanut,” Janis gasps, arming herself with the bag of cheese as Cady grabs the leftover sauce and flings a spoonful at her. “Hey!”

Cady squeals and ducks behind the counter as Janis chucks a handful of cheese at her, scraping some more sauce onto her spoon and firing another little bit back.

“Missed me,” Janis teases, flinging another handful of cheese. Eventually she runs out and switches to grab the bag of flour, blowing a massive cloud in Cady’s face. Cady splutters, coughing it away before rushing up and dumping her leftover ammo on top of Janis’ head.

“Hey, wait,” Cady begs upon realizing she’s now empty handed. “I don’t have anything to fight with!”

Janis is immune to her plight, raining another handful of flour over her hair and making her look like she’s been through quite a blizzard. “Truce?”

Cady reaches around her to grab some pepperonis, flinging them at Janis like throwing stars. “Never!”

Janis just cackles with laughter and throws more, the two of them continuing until Janis realizes she’s down to her last bit of flour.

“I’m all out, mercy,” she says to fake Cady out. “Come kiss me.” Cady does, and Janis makes sure she’s put her pepperoni down before dumping the last little bit of flour on top of her head.

Cady gasps at the betrayal. “You liar! You tricked me!”

“I win,” Janis smirks.

“Because you cheated! You seduced me into letting you win,” Cady insists. “You little stinker.”

Janis giggles. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Cady smiles back, kissing Janis again. “I love you too.”

“We made a mess.”

“Yeah, but did you smile?” Cady responds with a cheeky grin.

Janis groans. “Oh my god. Yes, I did, your evil plan worked. But now we have to clean the kitchen.” Cady looks over to check the timer on the oven, they still have a few minutes.

“I’ll vacuum the flour, you get the sauce and stuff. And maybe once we eat we can help clean each other,” she responds with a wink, heading to the hall closet to grab the vacuum. Janis gives a flustered squeak as she grabs a sponge. She really married her perfect woman.

————-

A week or so later, Cady takes Janis to the pet store to shop for cat necessities. She’s lucky that Janis can only use one hand, it gives her less opportunities for mischief. She holds Janis’ working hand and braces herself as they head in.

“Before you ask, no, we are not getting a bird or ferret or bunny or anything but things for our cat,” Cady says just to be safe. “And I will notice if you put a hamster in your pocket.”

“Okay,” Janis pouts, her obvious plans already having been foiled. “Ooh, look, they have little paintbrush catnip toys!”

Cady pulls her back for a second to grab a basket, but does let Janis add the package of toys. “Okay, now we get the stuff we actually need, we can get more toys once we’ve done that.”

Somehow Cady manages to cram a bed, two food dishes, a leash and harness, and several more toys in the basket. Janis holds the carrier they had chosen in her good hand, and Cady has the litter box in her other hand. Janis begs to go look at the birds once they finish, so Cady leads her over and secretly takes a video of Janis dancing with them.

A frankly exhausted looking teenager checks them out, scanning all the jangly toys and other things. Cady had noticed Janis disappeared as she paid for everything, and her jacket pocket is wriggling suspiciously when she returns.

“Put it back,” she demands, not even looking up as she helps the cashier bag all their things. Janis mopes her way back to the dwarf hamsters and puts the little creature back with his friends. “Why do you try that every time? You never get away with it.”

“But one day I might,” Janis replies, taking a couple of bags in her good hand and following Cady out of the store. “You never know.”

“With you, definitely not,” Cady sighs lovingly. “Let’s go get the apartment ready, hm?”

“Race you there,” Janis challenges, running ahead.

“Janis, no, come back! You’re already injured,” Cady calls, but Janis just sticks her tongue out at her and keeps going. “Fine, be that way.”

Cady runs to catch up with her, easily passing her and sticking her own tongue out at Janis.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be faster than me!” Janis whines as she rushes to keep up with her.

“Oh really? Then how was this supposed to be a fair race, hm?” Cady teases as she stops and allows Janis to catch up. “Come on, loser, keep up.”

“Hmph.”

—————

“Janis, no,” Cady demands, grabbing the hangar Janis is trying to stick into her cast.

“But it itches,” Janis whines.

“If you scratch with this you’ll get infected. Tetanus will be worse to deal with than a broken arm,” Cady says. “Come help me finish packing, it’ll take your mind off it.”

“Okay,” Janis pouts. “When do I get it off?”

Cady suddenly remembers Janis had been high when the doctor gave them the care instructions. “You have about a week left, then they’ll check to make sure it’s healed enough. If it’s not, you might need a smaller cast or a brace for a while.”

“Another cast?” Janis groans. “Ugh.”

“I know, lovey. But that would only be for about three weeks. And it’s important if your bones aren’t healthy enough, we don’t want you to injure it more,” Cady comforts. Janis hands her a shirt to fold and put in their suitcase. So far they’re not doing a great job of distracting her, so Cady changes the subject. “Do you have any idea what kind of cat you want?”

“No,” Janis says. “I kind of want a kitten, but I know senior cats have a hard time getting adopted, so I don’t know what age to pick. And I don’t think I want an orange one, I still miss Pancakes too much.”

Pancakes had fallen ill while Janis was in college, and was put down the summer before her senior year. She had luckily gotten to be there with him, comforting him to the end. She has his ashes in a little box on the dresser.

“I understand. He was such a good boy,” Cady says gently. “We’ll decide when we get there, maybe one will be extra special.”

“Maybe,” Janis says as she hands Cady their folded pairs of socks and does a little happy dance. “I’m excited.”

“I can tell,” Cady giggles. “I’m excited too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive any of it? It’s a long trip,” Janis says with concern. They were driving to Illinois instead of flying, so they didn’t have to deal with trying to fly the cat back home.

“My love, you’re a bad enough driver with both hands working, I’m very sure I don’t want you driving with just the one,” Cady chuckles in reply. “I’ll be fine, we have enough places to stop so I can take breaks. And I have you to keep me awake and stop me getting bored.”

“I’m a good driver!” Janis insists. Cady raises a suspicious eyebrow at her. “Most of the time.”

“Tell that to the turkey you ran over,” Cady responds.

“I was nineteen! And it was dark!” Janis says. “And to this day, nobody explained to me why the fresh hell there was a turkey in the middle of the road!”

“That’s fair. At least he survived,” Cady giggles. “But seriously, you’re not driving.”

“Okay,” Janis says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady says, leaning in for a kiss.

————-

“Jay. Breathe,” Cady coaxes a vibrating Janis. They’re picking their cat today, heading to her mom’s friend’s house.

“Sorry,” Janis says, locking all her muscles so she stops shaking.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cady chuckles. “Come on, we’re here.”

“Hey, ladies! I’m Eleanor, you must be Cady,” a woman greets as they come up to the door.

“I am, hi,” Cady says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eleanor shakes their hands gently before she leads them inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Janis says as soon as the door is opened. No fewer than forty cats are present, just scattered about doing their thing.

“Yeah, it’s a little jarring to newcomers,” Eleanor chuckles. “Do you have an age range you’re looking for? Our adults are mostly out here, and the kittens are in the room there if you’d like to see them.”

Cady looks to Janis. They both really want a cat, but Janis gets to pick which one due to her injury.

“Can we see the kittens?” Janis asks pensively, looking at the adults scattered around her. They’re cute, but none really jump out at her.

“Absolutely, please watch for tails,” Eleanor says as she leads them down a short hallway. “Our youngest litter aren’t ready to be adopted out yet, but the ones back here are about four months old now, if you’d like one of these.”

Janis squeals quietly when she sees them, trotting around a small pen and playing with various toys.

“You can head in if you like, they’re all very playful,” Eleanor says. Cady and Janis climb over the gate and sit on the ground, waiting to see if any approach them. Janis points to a little black ball of puff in the corner, snoozing quietly on a heating pad.

“Aww,” Cady coos. The kitten wakes to the noise, revealing bright lime green eyes. She comes trotting over, stumbling a couple times on her way. Janis extends a hand for her to sniff, and the kitten brushes against it gently. “Who is this one?”

“Her name is Pillow. We name the kittens random objects so we don’t get too attached,” Eleanor explains. “She’s usually quite shy, but she seems to have taken a liking to you two.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely a witch in disguise,” Janis whispers to the kitten nibbling on her fingertips. “Caddy, look.”

Cady also lets Pillow sniff at her hand, smiling as she apparently decides she’s trustworthy and plops down in her palm.

“Is she the one, Jayjay?” Cady asks, scooping her up to scratch her head. Janis nods and takes the kitten, holding her to her chest. “Can we change her name?”

“Absolutely. It might take her a bit to respond to it, but you’re certainly not stuck with Pillow,” Eleanor responds with a chuckle.

“Pillow isn’t terrible, honestly,” Janis replies. “What should we call her, Cads?”

Cady thinks for a second. “Paka?”

“Which language is that?” Janis asks curiously. It’s cute, but doesn’t really fit the dark little cloud in her hands.

“Swahili,” Cady answers.

“What does it mean?”

“Cat.” Cady mumbles. Janis bursts out laughing. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m not good at naming things!”

“It’s cute, but, uh...” Janis hums.

“I know, it just popped into my head. What do you want her name to be?” Cady asks.

“Something, like, witchy,” Janis says. “Look at her, she’s totally some witch’s familiar.”

Cady chuckles. “She could be. What’s the one from that one Broadway show Damian took us to when I came to New York for the first time? The green one, not the blonde one.”

“Elphaba,” Janis answers, cursing that she knows that. “But I don’t know if I want something that on the nose.” Pillow bites her finger gently. “Yeah, she doesn’t like that. Something close though.”

“What about Elvira? That’s witchy sounding,” Cady responds. “And not Elphaba.”

“That’s perfect,” Janis says happily. “What do you think, kitty? Are you an Elvira?” She meows loudly. “Oh yeah.”

“Perfect! Are you two ready to take her home?” Eleanor asks. “She’s already been spayed and microchipped, we just need to link her chip to your phones and y’all can have her.”

“I think so,” Cady says, chuckling as the kitten tries to nibble on Janis’ nose.

-

A week later, they’re officially back home in their little apartment, with their new kitten getting acclimated. They’re keeping her in the bedroom for now, and would slowly introduce her to the rest of the apartment soon.

Cady wakes up to something sort of rumbling on her face, and there’s a strange warmth over her forehead. She’s confused until she reaches a hand up and feels Elvira resting over her eyes.

It’s kind of nice, and Elvira is purring happily, so she leaves her there. Janis gradually stirs next to her, Cady can hear her stretching and giving a yawn. “Good morning, Cadd-what the fuck?”

Janis scoops the kitten off her forehead in a fit of giggles, then bends down to kiss Cady good morning.

“She was warm, it was like a nice little blindfold,” Cady says in response to Janis’ laughter. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” Janis asks with another yawn as she stops laughing.

“To have your cast off,” Cady giggles in reply. “Your appointment is today.”

“Oh yeah,” Janis says. “When?”

Cady looks to check the clock. “We have about an hour until your appointment.”

Janis pouts. No cuddle time. “Okay.”

“I’ll cuddle you after,” Cady compromises, knowing why she was upset. “Let’s go get dressed.”

-

Janis looks around anxiously as they enter the hospital again. She’s been scared of them since her father passed away, and her fear was exasperated when her aunt passed away of cancer when she was a bit older.

Cady squeezes her hand to comfort her as she signs Janis in and they’re led back to a room. Janis squeaks in fright when she spies the small saw they’re about to take to her arm.

“Jay, it’s okay, the saw doesn’t hurt,” Cady comforts.

“It’s a fucking saw!” Janis insists, sitting as far away from it as she can.

“It’s just to break the shell of the cast, it shuts off when it hits your skin,” Cady says gently as she brushes her hair from her face. “It just tickles.”

“How do you know?”

“I broke my leg when I was twelve, I had to be transported to a hospital in Nairobi so I could get treatment,” Cady says. “They did the same things to me. You’ll be fine.”

“You broke your leg?” Janis asks with a giggle. “How did you manage that?”

Cady starts laughing. “I was running after a bird, and was looking up at it instead of the ground. I tripped over a rock and fell into a hole.”

Janis thinks that’s about the most on-brand way Cady could’ve possibly gotten an injury as a child. “I can totally see that.”

“Right? I was such a stupid kid,” Cady chuckles.

The doctor comes in then, making small talk as she prepares everything. Cady holds Janis’ hand as the cast is removed, laughing as her eyes go wide at the buzzing sensation.

“Oh,” she mumbles when it’s off.

“I told you, it’s not bad,” Cady chuckles. “Go get your x-rays, loser.”

Janis follows after the doctor to get new scans taken of her arm, leaving Cady with the nurse. “Do you think she’ll want to keep the cast?”

“Probably not, but I do,” Cady says. “Remember how clumsy she can be.”

“Fair enough,” the nurse laughs, wrapping it up for Cady to take home. Janis comes back into the room after a few minutes with a pout.

“They’re not healed enough, I have to get another one,” she grumbles.

“Aww, I’m sorry mpenzi. But now your students will have something else to sign,” Cady says, desperately trying to find a positive.

Janis gives her a weak grin. “You’re so cute. I’m not that upset, this one only goes to my elbow. I’m just not looking forward to three more weeks of itchy arm.”

Cady nods. “I’ll be here to distract you.”

Janis knew she married Cady for a reason.

————-

“Caddy?” Janis calls about a week later from their bedroom.

“Yeah?” Cady calls back.

“Do we have any white spray paint?”

Cady runs into the bedroom, making Elvira jump in fright and scramble away. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing! Promise,” Janis says, raising her hands in surrender.

Cady looks at her suspiciously. “Then why did you ask if we have white spray paint?”

“I want to cover the color of my cast. Spray paint would do that the quickest,” Janis mumbles.

“Oh. Why do you want to cover it up? It doesn’t look bad,” Cady asks.

“No reason. Can I pleeeeeease go buy some?” Janis begs.

“If it’s that important to you, yeah, of course,” Cady says. “But only that. And no graffiti.”

“I’m not twenty anymore, I’m responsible,” Janis insists. Cady raises her eyebrow again. “I’m working on it.”

“I’m kidding. Go buy your paint, Picasso,” Cady says, kissing her and pushing her towards the door.

-

Janis comes back with her spray paint and a Kit-Kat bar for Cady.

“Hi, lovey,” Cady says from the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

“Ooh, spaghetti,” Janis says happily. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome,” Cady says, greeting her with a kiss. “Did you get your stuff?”

“Yeah. Got you a candy too,” Janis says, handing the bar over.

“Aww. You haven’t called me Kitkat in a while,” Cady coos as she takes the candy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Kitkat. Now come on, I’m

hungry.”

-

Once they finish their delicious dinner, Janis changes clothes, dons a protective mask, and heads to the balcony to work on her cast. Cady sits just inside to watch her through the door with their kitten on her lap. It’s a simple process, but Cady likes to watch Janis do any kind of art.

Janis wags her arm around for a few minutes after spraying the whole thing in layers, making the whole thing totally white. You can’t even tell it was purple underneath by the time she finishes.

Once it’s dry, she heads back inside and puts everything away. Cady is confused when she comes back with her paint supplies. Every shade of paint, every brush. But no canvas.

“What are you gonna do now?” She asks confusedly. Janis lies on the couch and sticks her arm out, gesturing for Cady to come sit next to her on the ground.

“I,” she says as she flops down. “Am going to watch you paint my cast.”

“Me?” Cady asks, pointing to herself. “But I can’t paint.”

“Of course you can paint, you just do it differently than I do,” Janis says, gesturing for her again. “You have free reign, do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Cady says anxiously as she sits down and grabs a brush. “Are you sure?”

“Peanut, it’s a cast, you’re not giving me a tattoo,” Janis giggles. “I want to see what you’ll do, and if I don’t like it I get this off in two weeks. I always like what you make anyway.”

Cady is comforted by this reminder. The last time she had tried to paint she’d only succeeded in making a blotchy mess of the picture frame she had been trying to decorate for Janis’ birthday. Janis loved and used it anyway.

She decides to start with the only thing she knows how to paint pretty well, a lion. She paints a little yellow circle on the inside of her wrist, surrounding it with orange and red stripes like a mane and adding a cute cartoon face in black.

Janis makes conversation and cuddles with Elvira as she works, not even looking at what she’s doing. Cady doesn’t really have a cohesive idea, so she makes little doodles all around like she’s decorating a whiteboard.

By the time she’s finished Janis has been thoroughly decorated with the lion, a rainbow near the bend of her elbow, a rough picture of Elvira, a cursive ‘I love you’ written so Janis can read it whenever she looks at the inside of her arm, a butterfly, several hearts, and a hot dog. All with room left in between for signatures.

“Okay, I’m done but don’t look yet,” Cady says as she runs off.

“Okay,” Janis says in confusion. Cady suddenly comes back from the kitchen brandishing a Sharpie, signing a ‘Caddy’ with a heart next to the cursive message she had painted. “Can I see now?”

“Yeah,” Cady says, biting her lip anxiously. Janis lifts her arm to look, smiling happily at what she sees.

“Cute,” Janis says with a grin. “You did good, Butterfly. I like it.”

Cady gives a quiet sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Come snuggle us,” Janis says, reaching for her and scooting Elvira over to make room. Cady crawls on top of her with a chuckle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—————

Two weeks later, Janis’ arm is finally freed for good and she’s given a warning to watch where she’s walking. She elects to take this cast home, wanting to keep Cady’s artwork.

Cady had told all their friends that Janis was finally getting her last cast off today, so they all decided to get together for a celebratory dinner.

Janis does a little happy dance as she leaves the hospital for what’s hopefully the last time in a long time, making Cady laugh.

“You’re free, Jay, your hand is back!” She calls.

“Yeah! And now I can do this again,” Janis says, running towards her and picking her up. Cady shrieks in surprise, but laughs happily and clings to her as Janis carries her to the car.

“Just don’t strain yourself, you should still be doing exercises and stuff to get your muscles back to where they were,” she says carefully, not wanting her wife to immediately re-injure herself.

“I’m fine, Cads, you’re still tiny. And I’m still buff,” Janis breathes as she sets her down.

“You are. Holding me in your big, strong arms,” Cady flirts as she leans up for a kiss. “Never gets old. But I do wish you’d warn me first.”

“That takes the fun out of it,” Janis teases as she lifts and spins her again. Cady squeals happily. “I love you. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“You took care of yourself just fine, but you’re welcome, love,” Cady replies. “I love you too.”

Maybe I can’t always catch you when you fall, but I’ll always help with the aftermath.

---------

hope you enjoyed!

quick note about requests: they are still open, but I've scheduled all of my works in progress and they go until the middle of July, so it will be that long before your request gets published. if you've left one before today, I am working on it and it will be out soon.

ALSO! urgent message, I have so far received one request on Tumblr in my asks. unfortunately, I wasn't aware it would disappear when I answered it. so, whoever left that: please leave it again so I can get your name to give you credit when its posted!

thanks for reading, have a lovely day!

lots of love,

ezzy

[anninhiliation]

Insecure

Masterlist

Disclaimer: DONT COPY MY WORK. YOU HAVE NO CONSENT TO DO SO.

Standing in the mirror, you let out a heavy sigh. You were different than his past girlfriends and hookups. He's always been with “the skinny girl” and the “athletic girl”, never someone with your body type. 

So why me? You thought focusing on your figure

You had rolls, stretch marks around your arms, thighs, hips, breasts, and stomach. You weren’t a model, you didn’t sing on stage or dance. Just an average big-boned young woman. Your day started out fine until your favorite pair of jeans refused to close. Working so hard to wiggle into the tight fabric only to struggle more than usual around your hips and once it fully came up, the button refused to clasp and the zipper refused to budge. Staring at the light wash jeans, you focused on the stitching on the sides, noticing the threads struggled to maintain in place. Finding clothes that fit you right, was always a challenge, and more recently you went up a size. Only making the challenge more difficult. Tears swelled up around your eyes as you hyper-focused on every little detail about yourself you didn’t like. Suddenly you heard the bedroom door open pulling you away from your thoughts as Richard walked in. His wide grin made your heart flutter, as he approached you from behind. 

“Shawty I thought we were gonna grab lunch but I guess not” he flirted as he looked you up and down

“No- we are getting lunch” you sighed as you went to grab a shirt to cover-up 

He was quick to pick up on your body language making his grin fall. He stopped you and cupped your face making you look at him in the eye. He noticed how glassy your eyes were and frowned, as his own eyes softened. 

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked as he studied your face

“Its nothing” you looked down and to the side avoiding his gaze

“Shawty somethings wrong, was it a fan?” he clenched his jaw as thoughts flooded his mind 

If Richard was anything, it was very protective of you. Never controlling, just wanting to shield you away from the spotlight, knowing how damaging it can be. 

“No” you whispered

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong then?” he raised an eyebrow

“I’m ugly and my pants don’t fit” you choked out between your sobs

Richard pulled you in for a hug, rubbing your back consoling you. 

“Shawty you’re beautiful” he whispered as he ran his finger through your hair “the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on”

“You’re just saying that” you sobbed as you pulled away 

Richard slowly wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m not,” he said sincerely 

"But I'm not skinny" you whined "or like the other girls I don't even know why you're with me" 

"I don't care about your fluff shawty. I like it. I like you the way you are” he spoke “The other girls?" Richard questioned as he furrowed his eyebrows

"Yea like your past hookups" you pouted

"Shawty you're better than them that’s why they were a fuck and leave" he consoled "you're a keeper"

“You’re better than the mistakes from my past. I couldn’t think of anyone better to act as a mother figure towards Aaliyah when I have her. I love you, and all of you” 

His words made your heart flutter and did help you feel better to a certain extent. 

“I love you too” you sniffled 

“Why don’t we find you new pants instead of lunch?” he offered “I’ll take you all over Miami until we find you some fire jeans. My treat.”

~~~~~~~~~

Anon: Could you do one with any of the boys where you are insecure mabey kind of "plus size " or "bigger" if you know what i mean

A/N: Weight doesn't not equal beauty. The anon wanted a bad day depicted and I hope I did it justice. This is my first ever plus-size imagine, so if you have any recommendations for different wording or correcting me on something please do so. This is not my body type, I don't know what it's like. Don't be rude, but please by all means educate me. ALSO, insecurity comes in so many different ways!!! I just depicted one, which is to cry about it, I've cried about my problems. Its okay to cry. Also consoling is not my thing, so don't come at me. If you cried in front of me id low key not know what to do djfkjsdf

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

ooh ask day! are you working on any of your own writing at the moment? what excites you about it? is your writing similar to your prompts in any way? or do the prompts fulfill something else for you?

mainly im working on getting my first novel published, which you can read about HERE. otherwise, the sequel, an adult fiction project, and an urban fantasy type YA about a town called florida. in florida. Florida, florida.

Florida project, working title BORDERLINE, is the most in line with my general prompt vibe here. a little cosmic horror, bent reality, just generally odd.

I never write stuff based off the prompts, but I DO write prompts based off my own stuff, very occasionally. for me, writing prompts is like scales for a musician. keeps my brain well oiled.

*still taking asks, no requests please*

anyway, ive been working on Florida project a lot lately. have an excerpt:

Backpage:

Lin O’Leary was born and raised in the town of Florida, Florida, tucked away into a corner of the state’s forgotten coast. All the locals know Florida is a strange place, rumored to stand on a borderline, where the veil is thin and mysterious forces wander alongside the human population. The daughter of Irish and Mexican immigrants, Lin knows you can only find trouble if you go looking for it, and like the rest of Florida’s residents, lives comfortably alongside the supernatural. This is before Momoko Kasahara disappears into thin air, frightening the town of Florida into a new, ultra-cautious existence. Five years after Momo’s disappearance, Lin is seventeen, a highschool dropout now working at a convenience store, her once vibrant town still plagued by fear. The days drag by, mundane as they come in Florida, occasionally punctuated by unpleasant visits from Bo Kasahara, brother to Momo and full time asshole. Then, one fateful late shift, Lin sees the missing Kasahara twin standing in the aisles, gone as quickly as she appeared. Meanwhile, a stranger arrives from California, claiming to be a paranormal investigator hellbent on uncovering the mysteries of Florida, and suddenly Lin is faced with a choice. Be smart and keep her head down, or dive headlong into the strange mist that so often covers Florida, to rescue Momo Kasahara, and return her town to the way she remembers it.

1. 100% humidity feels like breathing underwater.

L I N

Florida ate Momoko Kasahara on the most miserable day of the year, and washed her down with a thunderstorm. A lot of other important things happened that day, but Momo’s disappearance overshadowed them all. Momo was the coolest girl in our class. She had shiny black hair that ran down to her waist. She liked to wear a different flavor of lip gloss every day of the week, and could sing in Japanese. I was on my way home from the beach when I saw the police cars in her driveway, and her twin brother sitting on the porch, painted purple in the twilight. 

He shook his head, at me, slow, and all the sound seemed to drain out of the world. The flashing police lights distorted his face, as bright white clouds passed too quickly above us. The whole scene drove a stake of wrongness hard into my chest. Sometimes even now, I dream about it. Bo and I watching each other. The dead silence. The purple light. The too white clouds. And Momo, eaten.  For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my own town. 

My name is Lin O’leary. I live in Florida, Florida, a nothing sort of place crammed into an extra forgotten corner of the state’s already forgotten coast. Some days I can forget about Momo, and everything that happened in the hours before she vanished. Heff says I’m good at keeping my eyes closed, even when they’re open. 

I really wish he were right. 

2. Cloudy with a chance of hotdogs (haunted).

J U L I E N

I was standing in front of the worst building I had ever seen. Slab grey and full of sharp edges, additions had been slapped onto every side until it resembled an impossible puzzle piece. The front windows were crowded with signs for cold beer and hot food, but the glass itself was opaque. It was a convenience store from hell, a collection of stationary parts so nonsensical I was worried it might grow a few new alcoves if I blinked. Above the door, an unintelligible sign in complicated neon cursive flashed electric blue. There was a neon clock too, flickering wildly, just striking twelve.

I must have walked halfway across town, and as far I could tell this was the only place that sold food at all, let alone past three in the morning. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My stomach was a mess, and haunted convenience store hot dogs could only make it worse. I fished my phone out of my pocket, but the little service I had was, like the midnight clock above me, barely clinging to existence, my map application nothing more than a collection of beige squares. There was no one around. The sky was intensely dark, a pitch black blanket of clouds. Water hung thick in the air, the night time street so quiet I could almost hear beads of sweat sliding down my already slick face. No, there was nothing for it. I needed directions. 

The bell above the door made a strange, flat sound as I pressed inside. If the building was weird from the outside, that was nothing to its interior. The shelves, tall and numerous, had been arranged like maze walls. The overhead lights were blinding, stark white, and every other tile on the floor was mismatched. Some were squares of carpet. The only thing really visible from the entrance was the register, a fortress made of dark wood and surrounded by lottery advertisements. Behind the counter, a girl was reading something intently. As I got closer, I saw it was the back of a box of oatmeal.

“Hi,” I said, adjusting the duffel bag that had been crushing my left shoulder for an hour. 

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up. She had thin black hair, pin straight and chin length. Her skin was a warm, golden brown. Her shirt said something in miniscule writing, but my glasses were a little foggy, so I would have had to practically press my face to her chest to read it, which didn’t seem like a great first impression.

“Can you help me? I’m looking for the Fahrenheit Motel. I think it’s supposed to be around here.” 

Finally, she glanced at me. 

“It’s just around the corner. See the glasses store across the street? Go straight past that and make the second left, you’ll run right into it.” 

She pointed out the window, and I realized they were one way. 

“Who built this place?” I asked. 

She shrugged. 

“We’ve had a lot of owners. Everyone adds something new.”

There was something off about her. Like we were talking, but mentally she was still 

reading the box of oatmeal. 

“I’m Julien,” I said, sticking out a hand. She raised her eyebrows before taking it. 

“Lin,” she said, with another small nod. 

Her face was round, but her features were knife sharp. I wondered what she looked like angry. Maybe that was a really weird thing to think. 

Not wanting to ask for a second set of directions, I wandered around the store for thirty minutes before returning to the counter with a gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of seaweed flavored potato chips. 

“I can’t believe you have these. I didn’t think you could find them outside of California.”

Instead of replying, Lin held up the chocolate milk. 

“There’s no fridge in your room at the Fahrenheit. You know that right?”

“I was told on the phone… ” I started.

“There’s a fridge, but it’s in the lobby, communal. Kimmy’ll drink this.” She gave the milk a little shake before scanning it. “Just warning you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as she stuffed my things in a smiling shopping bag. 

I paused on my way out.

“Goodnight,” I said, “Or, good morning I guess.” 

Lin stared at me, then glanced at the box of oatmeal and back. 

“Morning,” she said, with a sigh.

***

I followed Lin’s directions, and wound up at last in front of a long, low building sporting a vacancies sign. Even in low light I could see about a hundred sad looking plastic flamingos had been stuck all over the lawn, the bushes, even the gravel path that led to the front door. I had to pick my way around them on approach. 

There was no one at the front desk. The reception area was lit only by the green blue light coming from an enormous fishtank that didn’t seem to have any fish in it. As I approached the counter, I noticed someone had left the key to my room out for me, next to a scrap of paper bearing the wifi password. I picked up the key, old and brass, then watched the fishtank for a second, before turning around and experiencing heart failure. 

A very old woman with wiry black hair was standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed and frowning at me. She didn’t apologize for nearly sending me to my grave. 

“I’m up. I can check you in properly,” she said, shuffling past me. “I’m Kimmy, but you can call me Miss Kimmy. You got ID?” 

I dug it out of my wallet while she opened a dusty guest book. 

“The reservation is for Julien True,” I said. 

Miss Kimmy glanced at the ID I had just handed her. 

“That’s not what this says.”

“I know. It’s a stage name,” I admitted, “everything else is correct.”

She raised an eyebrow to herself, but didn’t ask any more questions. 

“Now listen,” she said finally, shutting the guest book with a snap. “I’ll be honest, there’s not much to do around here. There’s a bus runs to the state forest during the day, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. If you’re hungry that’s too bad for the most part, unless you feel like walking down to Morton’s.”

“Is that the weird looking building? One way windows?”

“That’s the one. Midnight Morton’s, never closes. This late at night you’ve got Lin at the counter, nice girl.” 

I don’t know what I would have called Lin, but it probably wasn’t ‘nice girl’.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing around for the hallway that led to my room.

I bid Miss Kimmy goodnight and lugged my things to Room 7, at the very end of the dark hall. Inside was simple, but stunningly clean, which I had in no way expected. The bed had a sunken spot in the middle, and there were a lot of paintings of tropical fish on the walls. Home sweet home. I changed into pajamas, and took a huge swig of chocolate milk before glancing at my duffel, still full of equipment. 

It could wait. I was exhausted, sweaty, and more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. 

3. Welcome to my grocery store how may I assist you.

L I N

“I want to drop out of high school,” said Roach. 

We were sprawled out on separate tartan sofas, both angled towards the ancient television. It was after midnight, and the only light in the room was coming from the nature channel.

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re not even in high school.”

Roach was a weird little girl. Eleven years old, she wore oversized thrift store t-shirts, and big chunky glasses, and cut her own hair. I loved her the most in this world.

“Yeah, but when I get there, I want to drop out. You did.”

I sighed. 

“You’re smarter than me. You have to finish school and work in a laboratory anywhere but here. Those are the rules.” 

Roach crossed and uncrossed her skinny legs without arguing. I knew she just wanted to hear me say she was smart. 

We continued to watch the nature channel in silence. A documentary on the arctic ocean was playing, which I found devastatingly boring, but Roach was clearly glued to. I could hear dad snoring upstairs, a pleasant sort of nightly white noise, and tuned out completely until Roach clapped an inch from my face. 

“Jeez,” I started, pushing her hands away.

“You were way out there. It’s freaky.”

I had been practicing my zone out since I was Roach’s age. On my best day, I could have an entire conversation without hearing one word the other person said. Call it a life skill.

“You’re doing it again!” said Roach. “Don’t you have work soon?” 

That snapped me out of it. I looked at my watch. 

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” 

I rolled off the couch as Roach sat back down with a huff. The arctic documentary was ending, and she picked up the changer to scroll through a long list of similar recordings. Roach loved animals, all of them, even fish that ate your insides, and grubs, and parasitic worms. Especially parasitic worms. 

“Don’t stay up too late okay?” I said, tugging gently on her massive ponytail. Roach got dad’s curly, reddish brown hair. I got mom’s.

“Mmhm.”

I glanced in the hall mirror to see if there was any food on my shirt. Then I stepped into the mosquito ridden, muggy Florida night, and headed to my shift.

***

You might be thinking: where does a seventeen year old high school dropout work after midnight? And the thrilling answer is: the grocery store, sort of.

You might be thinking: what? 

But that’s Morton’s. 

The sliding doors opened smoothly for me upon arrival, which was always a good omen. I straightened the newsstand and went to look for Barry.

My manager, a small, Dominican man who loved to party, was in the produce section with a woman I assumed was his latest girlfriend. He was chucking the moldiest vegetables into an open trashcan.

“Our fresh produce is a travesty,” I said. “When was the last time someone bought an eggplant here?”

“I’m thinking of moving the veg,” said Barry, “they don’t like the energy in this corner.”

Barry was constantly moving things around the small labyrinth that was Morton’s. At least once a month he would take an hour long stroll from shelf to shelf, while I wrote down what was going where. I made a new map of the store for every big move.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, as Barry followed me to the register, bag of moldy vegetables in hand.

“Dancing,” said his date, with an endearing round of jazz hands, as Barry broke into a stationary samba while he gave me a list of stuff to work on. He treated me to his own enthusiastic jazz hands, and a few notes of a Juan Luis Guerra song as he samba’d in the direction of the door. As it swung shut behind them, I let the intense silence of Morton's wash over me. The fluorescent lights hummed gently. The food sat well behaved in slightly crooked rows. I turned my brain down to its lowest setting, and consulted my list.

...

[a65232-joshywoshy]

Colorado Crybaby

Chapter 8

     The alarm on Penny’s phone rang.

      Penny woke up and looked over at Rachael, who was sleeping with her mouth open. Penny thought she looked adorable.

     "Rachael," Penny gently rocked Rachael. "It's time to wake up."

     "Wuh way uh." Was all that came out of Rachael's mouth. She rolled over.

     "What?" Penny, grinned. The adorableness had increased.

     "Doh wanna way uh."

     "You said you wanted to go see the club, right?"

     Rachael just moaned in response.

     "Come on, sweetheart. Nap time is over. Let's wake up so we can go have fun."

     "Cub uh be fun."

     "Yes. The club will be fun. You have to wake up though, your royal crinkliness."

     The reminder that Rachael was diapered helped her wake up a lot faster, and the more awake she was, the more embarrassed she got. Once again, she was in a vulnerable position in front of her friend. Her… girlfriend? That's how she felt about Penny, but was it official yet?

     "Kay. I waking up."

     "My cute little baby-talking babygirl."

     Rachael continued to blush.

     Penny got up and changed in the other room. She left the diaper on, but put on a short black dress.

     "You still want to wear shorts and a tanktop? It may be cold inside the club." Penny knew that Rachael would get cold, so she got herself a sweater; one that would ultimately go on Rachael.

     "Yeah.” Rachael yawned. “I wear this. I’ll… wear this. Dumb babytalking.”

     The two finished getting ready, with Rachael sleepily following behind. Waking up from a midday nap always took Rachael a while to do. They got all their things together, including the box of diapers and took everything back down to the car. 

     As they drove to the club, Rachael finally finished waking up.

     “How did we get so close so fast? Like, we just slept together. I mean, not like that, but, you know.”

     “Well,” Penny was enjoying the conversation as they left the apartment and drove to the club. “We’ve known each other for 5 years now.”

     “Yeah.”

     “And there’s been plenty of times where we hung out. Sometimes where we weren’t at work, even. Even the company picnic 2 years ago didn’t really feel like we were at work. We’ve been to the mall a lot. We’ve talked A LOT. Texts. Phone calls.”

     “So I guess,” Rachael sat and thought about their relationship a second. “This is really the first time we’ve been this physically close. And since we already have the emotional connection...”

     “Yeah.”

     “And you’ve rescued me at work, and rescued me during our time off. I guess you’re practically my big sister.”

     “Ooh.” Penny smiled. “You could be my BABY sister!”

     “I’m not a baby.” Rachael smiled, slightly reveling in the title.

     “I know. You’re a grown, consenting adult that wants to ACT like a baby. Therefore, you’re now my baby sister. It’s official.” 

     “Is this it?” Rachael looked disappointed.

     They had arrived at the club and the scene was not what Rachael was expecting. Standing before them was a run-down building, formerly the anchor store in a retail strip mall. The building paint was peeling in some places and a board covered one of the windows in the front.

     “She’s not much to look at, but this is our haven.” 

     Penny parked the car and quickly texted someone again. She got out and went to get the box out of the back of her car. Rachael got out and followed Penny inside. 

     As they walked through the front doors, they were greeted by a burly latino man wearing a very flattering suit and tie. 

     “Buenos tardes, Pablo.”

     The man smiled after recognizing Penny.

     “Buenos tardes, Señora. Como esta ustedes?"

     "Bien, y ustedes?"

     "Muy bien, gracias. Quien es tu amiga?”

     “Mi amiga se llama Rachael. Trabajamos juntos.”

      “Bien, muy bien. Necesito ID, por favor, y la firma aqui.”

     Penny started to get out her ID and signed the form. Rachael didn’t understand the conversation, but did the same. The form seemed to be a release form, protecting the club from any liability.

     “Gracias, señoras. Que la pases bien!”

     "Gracias, Pablo!"

     The two walked out of the small entry area and into the main room. The lighting cast a blue hue over everything inside. Tables for 2 to 4 people were arranged in a grid in front of a stage. There was a stripper pole on the otherwise empty stage. A bartender was behind the counter opposite the stage and a few couples were sitting at tables around the room, enjoying each other's company. The air smelled wonderful. Most of the candles on the tables were strawberry or coconut scented, while the smell of snacks drifted from behind the bar. A DJ booth towards the side of the room played popular music at a volume low enough for casual conversation. Penny took a big breath of air and let it out slowly.

     “See, Rachael? I love this place.”

     It took Rachael several seconds to realize, but the clothing some of the couples wore was not normal attire for a club. A man at one table was wearing a onesie, while a woman across the room wore a T-shirt and diaper. As Rachael studied the room, she saw a wooden train set on a small table in the corner of the room. The opposite corner had a large pile of blocks next to a teddybear that looked quite large.

     “Whoa.” Rachael kept taking in the sights as Penny walked towards a table to sit down. Rachael sat down across from her. “This place IS great!”

     “Here she is.” Penny looked behind Rachael at someone walking up. 

     A tall woman strode up to their table. She was wearing a knee length khaki skirt with a white button down shirt. Her long black hair swayed as she walked. The woman's posture and stance seemed to command respect.

     “V!” Penny got up and hugged the woman.

     “Niña!” Veronica hugged Penny back. She was much taller than Penny. Penny’s head stopped at the bottom of Veronica’s chin. Rachael felt dwarfed by the seemingly Amazonian woman.

     “This is my friend Rachael from work, V.” Penny was excited to introduce the two.

     “Hi.” Rachael shook Veronica’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Rachael felt like this tall woman could easily lift her off the ground and put her on her hip like a child.

     “I got the stuff you wanted, V.” Penny showed the box to V.

     “Good. Gracias, Niña. I appreciate that. Can you stop calling me “V”, now? My name is Veronica. Though, you should refer to me as Mami, if you know what's good for you.” Veronica looked sternly at Penny as they sat down at the table. Penny looked down at the table, hands crossed in her lap. A faint hint of blushing could be seen on her cheeks, even in the dim blue lighting.

     “Not in front of my friend,” Penny said meekly, mumbling something else under her breath. She was beginning to look very embarrassed.

     “I didn’t hear you, Niña. Digame.” Veronica continued to look sternly at Penny’s face, though Penny refused to meet her gaze.

     “Mami.”

     “Yes, my name is ‘Mami’ to you. Thank you, Niña. You’ve never been allowed to call me ‘V’. I don’t know what possessed you to call me that now.” 

     Veronica turned to look at Rachael. 

     “So you’re Penny’s friend from work? That’s nice. She’s told me all about you. You’re an account coordinator for Imagine Innovations and you used to live in California, correct?"

     “Yes, Ms. Veronica. We’ve been friends for a long time now. We help each other at work and we hang out from time to time. Penny and I will get to hang out a lot more often now, since I moved here."

     "That's good. Penny needs good people to keep a close eye on her."

     Veronica turned back to Penny, who still refused to look Veronica in the eyes. 

     “Your friend Rachael is very polite, Niña, unlike you. I’m not even her mami and she knows to be respectful to me.”

     “Thank you, Miss Veronica. One question, though,” Rachael got a little excited when she heard ‘her mami’. “Are you Penny’s mother? You look so young...”

     “Not her madre" Veronica laughed. "Do you know what MD/lg is, Rachael? Penny is my little tiny baby girl. That's why I call her Niña. Baby girl in spanish. We have a relationship where she is my pretend daughter. Like a god-daughter, but we're close in age.”

     “Mami!” Penny was getting more embarrassed.

     “That’s great." Rachael said. "I'm familiar with that. I’m so glad you two have a good relationship like that. It’s funny, though. Penny didn’t talk about your relationship like that.” Rachael wanted to clarify the details, since what Penny had said earlier didn’t match up.

     “Oh?” Veronica was curious.

     “Penny told me that you were an old friend and that box was for...”

     “Rachael, no!” Penny started to panic.

     "Penny De LaCruz. You insult me with a single letter for my name, then interrupt your friend? Necesito conseguir la chonkla?"

      Rachael hesitated, but Veronica pointed a finger at Penny and urged Rachael to continue.

     “She said they were for an old friend. She wouldn't tell me what was in the box, either, Miss Veronica.”

     Veronica seemed aghast. “An OLD friend? Is that what I am to you, Niña? Old?! And you told her that box was FOR ME?! Penny Rosita Elena De LaCruz! How DARE you, Mija. I don't wear pañales like you."

     “No! Mami! It was a mistake! Lo siento, Mami!” Penny looked Veronica in the eyes with abject horror.

     “I’m sorry. I just wanted to...” Rachael was taken aback by what she caused.

     “No, Rachael. You didn’t do anything wrong. Mija and I had a deal that she would refer to me as Mami to her close friends. It was also understood that we would both be respectful to each other. “V” and this failure to mention who those diapers belonged to are big "no no’s" for us. This is our dynamic. Penny is my pequita niña and I am her Mami, to be addressed as such when with appropriate company. So…"

     Veronica glared at Penny. 

     "Niña.”

     Penny cringed at her name. She knew she was in trouble.

     “Si, Mami?” Penny said quietly.

     “Explain to Rachael what this box is and who is it for.”

     “Please, Mami." Penny begged then pouted. "I don’t want to.”

     “Okay. We’ll add 25 swats for this behavior, then.”

     “No, no, no, no. PLEASE, Mami!”

     “Tell your friend, Niña.”

     Penny huffed and squirmed, physically uncomfortable from having to admit to her friend that she was a baby. “Rachael, those diapers are for me.” Penny didn't look Rachael in the eye. She was too embarrassed. Rachael smiled.

     “And why did you bring them here today, Niña?” Veronica changed her expression. She looked proud of Penny now.

     “Because the diapers need to be inspected by Mami, so she knows what I’m going to wear this weekend.”

     “Muy bien, Mija." Veronica patted Penny's head. Penny retained her fussy pout. "See, Rachael? We have fun. We’ve been friends since college. Some college experimenting lead us to find out that Penny loves to be put in her little space. Penny is the kind of girl who WANTS to be babied, but has to be forced into it. It’s all for fun, of course. We have a good, consenting relationship and we know each other’s limits and safe words. We never cross our hard limits. That's disrespectful. We just have fun together.”

     “Wow.” Rachael was in awe of this woman. “You sound like an amazing mommy!”

     “Gracias, señorita. Are you a little?”

     “Yes, ma’am.” Rachael got a little embarrassed, confessing her deep dark secret to someone she had only just met.

     “Did Penny already try to act like your mami?” Veronica chuckled.

     “Kind of, yes.” Rachael smiled. "It was lots of fun, though."

     “Silly Penny. She thinks she knows how to be a good mami. When I come back into town next week, do you want me to babysit the two of you together? I'm already babysitting Penny.” Veronica’s smile was very calming to Rachael. It was almost hypnotizing.

     “I’ve never been babysat before. That'd be fun.” Rachael loved the idea. But what would that entail? What would that mean for her and Penny’s relationship? Would things get weird?

     “Well, Niña can tell you all about what we do while I’m gone. I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”

     “Sounds great, Miss Veronica.” Rachael smiled.

     "Then next weekend we'll do that, chicas. Penny?" Veronica glared at Penny, who was looking away from them, with a pouty look on her face still.

     "Si, Mami?"

     "Rachael will be watching your behavior until next weekend. We're trading phone numbers right now, and if you misbehave, she will let me know. I'm also texting her our rules…"

     "Mami! No!”

     "Cincuenta ahora, Niña. I'm texting her our rules, so she can know what behavior I expect from you. Esta bien?"

     Penny huffed "Si, Mami.", knowing that any backtalk would add to her quickly rising pile of trouble. 

     "Muy bien." Veronica looked satisfied with her work.

      Veronica and Rachael exchanged phone numbers, and the rules list was sent in the process.

      "Ven." Veronica looked back at Penny and pointed at the floor next to her. Penny was still pouting but didn't dare disobey again. She knelt beside Veronica and looked up at her.

      "I love you, Mija." Veronica put her large hands on Penny's cheeks. "Te quiero muchísimo. I know your behavior can get the best of you sometimes. That's why we're working on this together, verdad?"

     "Si, Mami."

     "Very good." Veronica stood up to get ready to go. For a moment, she was twice Penny's height. Penny looked tiny beneath her. "Give Mami a hug, Niña."

    Penny stood up and hugged Veronica tightly around the waist, like a child would hug their favorite adult. "I love you, Mami."

     "I love you too, Mija." Veronica kissed Penny on the head, then turned to Rachael. "It was very nice to meet you, Rachael. I'm sure you'll help Penny be very well behaved."

     "Yes, ma'am." They shook hands as Rachael beamed at getting praise from a mommy figure.

     "I have other things to tend to. Have a good night, chicas!" With that, Veronica strode out of the club, leaving Penny's box of diapers with her.

     "Man, I'm in trouble." Penny sat down and gently bumped her head against the box. 

[fy-juho]

how to sign up and level up in sf9′s official daum fancafe [200501 ver.]

Update: as of 200707, this tutorial is no longer valid as the fancafe level up rules have been modified. You can find the updated tutorial here.

this is a fancafe tutorial for the new rules to enter and level up in sf9′s daum fancafe! please feel free to send me a message if you have any questions.

step 1

open up sf9′s offical daum fancafe and make sure you’re logged in on your daum account. click on ‘카페 가입하기’ which you can find beneath their description box to sign up for the fancafe.

step 2

you’ll be asked to do fill out an entrance quiz to register as a member. enter sf9′s debut date in (YYMMDD) format and click 확인 to continue. 

step 3 you will be redirected to the following page. check the box at the beginning to accept the terms of agreement. next you will need to fill in your fancafe nickname, please read the rules below and pick your nickname according to them. check both boxes and answer the security text. after you’ve done that click '가입’ to finish. you should now be signed up for sf9′s fancafe.

nickname rules (© inseongface)

- up to 8 korean characters or 10 english letters

- you can mix korean characters, english letters and numbers (in that case, you can have up to a max of 10 characters)

- you can’t use chinese characters, emoticons, spaces, gaps, foreign languages, profanity, suggestive phrases, special characters or consonants and vowels seperately

- you can’t use any phrases that relate to sf9, 에스에프나인 (sf9), the members’ names, etc. as a standalone user (you are allowed to use cominations like ‘ilovesf9′ or ‘zuhobbueeng’)

- you can’t use another artist’s name or their respective fanlight or fanclub name

step 4 next step is to level up. scroll down to the bottom of the page to find the ‘level up’ section. click on '등업신청’.

step 5 here you should start filling out the questions you’re required to answer for level up. first click on the blue lock to make your post private, if you don’t do this staff will not level you up. read the description and answer in the format given. if you click on '등록’ your level up form will be posted.

translation of fancafe questions (© inseongface)

1. please write your name/age/place of residence/daum id

2. please write the names of sf9 (stage names) as well as their date of birth (YYMMDD).

3. after choosing all of the names that break fancafe regulations below, please correct them.  1) SF9_사랑해요 2) 나는FANTASY9 3) SF9은최고 ㅇ ㅑ 4) FANTASY사랑해요

4. please write the date when the pictures for sf9 1st album [FIRST COLLECTION] jacket post- sf9 were released (YYMMDD).

5. please write all names of the members who are standing at the beginning scene of the ‘Good Guy’ M/V when the door opens.

6. please write the title of the ‘League of SF(셒)Gends’ content which won the grand prize as well as all of the members’ names whom participated.

7. please write the date (YYMMDD) as well as the name of the broadcast on which sf9 got their first 1st place win for ‘Good Guy’.

8. during jaeyoon’s V LIVE of ‘I Can Plant It Well’, please write how many plants he planted as well as the name of the member who jaeyoon called during the broadcast. (EX. O개 (amount) / OO)

9. please write the names of the members who jumped when sf9 was doing their bungee jumping mission for their ‘Good Guy’ 1st place promise. please write their names in order of appearance. 

10. attach a proof picture of you streaming sf9 - ‘Good Guy’. - take captures of when you start the streaming and 5-10 seconds before it ends; make sure to show the timestamps. - make sure to write your fancafe nickname on the capture image. - make sure to ‘Like (Heart)’ the song. - the only music sites that will be counted are Melon, Genie, Bugs, Soribada, FLO and VIBE however fnc replied that international fans Spotify and Apple Music can also be used as streaming proof.

(FNC’s own example of what your streaming picture proof should look like)

after posting your level up form you should wait around a week before fnc staff levels you up, this could take some time (however you can also be levelled up within a few days). 

step 6 (download daum cafe on mobile for the next step)

it’s important to have your settings on your daum cafe be accessible to managers only. open sf9′s fancafe on mobile and click on the three lines on top of the page.

a sidebar for the fancafe navigation should show up and below on the page you should see your nickname which will direct you to your profile and on the side a shortcut for your personal settings. click the gear to go to your settings.

make sure all your settings look like this, otherwise you will NOT be levelled up on fancafe. in step 3 you already put your message options to on, however the privacy options won’t automatically be put on ‘managers’. 

that’s the end of this level up tutorial! i hope everything is clear to you and again, you can always send me an ask or dm me if you have any questions!

[lilysilver2722]

Positively Negative

Master List

Pairing:  Yoongi x Reader

Genre:  Angst

Word Count:  I,524

Request:  Suga scenario when his girlfriend’s friends or sister called to tell him that his girlfriend is at the hospital (she didn’t know she was pregnant).

Summary:  Not all news is good news, not every test is a positive score.  Sometimes all it takes is one negative test to tell you all you need to know about what you want for the future.  

A/N:  I’ve recently been reminded of some not so amazing aspects of pregnancy, and while the request was vague in terms of what kind of way to approach this topic, I’m using it as an opportunity to explore miscarriage and child loss.  This scenario discusses some not so easy topics or nice topics and could be uneasy for some.  Please read with caution and an open mind.

Dedication:  To all the little angels out there, the little hands and feet who now have wings – know that here on Earth you are still loved and remembered eternally and to all the mothers out there of those little angels. 

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

Yoongi groaned, glaring over at his phone as it continued to light up and ring despite it being the fourth time he’d ignored the caller.  Whoever it was they were incredibly persistent and Yoongi swore that if it wasn’t an emergency he’d personally break the caller’s phone for having the audacity to call when he was in the studio.

“What?”  He growled into the receiver without looking at the ID.

“Oppa?”  Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat, but then it dawned on him that the eerily familiar voice didn’t belong to you, but to your younger sister.

“What is it, Min Ji?” Yoongi asked in a softer tone, knowing that your sister wouldn’t call unless she needed something – while her definition of ‘need’ was usually different than what Yoongi would prefer, he found it endearing that the younger girl came to him for a lot of her questions and random thoughts.  It was something she only did with you for the longest time, but when she realized that Yoongi indulged even the strangest conversations with you it opened a new door of communication between them.

“Oppa,” Min Ji’s voice cracked slightly over the line and she was silent long enough for him to pick up some of the background noises.

“Min Ji, where are you? Is everything okay?”

“Oppa, please hurry, it’s Unnie, she’s – we’re in the hospital Oppa.”

_

Yoongi didn’t even know how he managed to get to the hospital so quickly.  He didn’t even wait for Min Ji to finish her sentence of which hospital before he was already in his car, his shoes thrown on the passenger seat, his foot hit the accelerator harder than necessary as he raced to the hospital Min Ji rattled off to him before hanging up.

You were in the Emergency Room when your sister called and despite the fact that it took Yoongi less than five minutes to get there with how quickly he drove Min Ji had managed to text him and tell him that you were on the third floor for observation.

Heart pounded the entire way from his car in the parking lot up to the hospital doors, the rush of blood that drained from his face as his mind wandered to what happened, what caused your sister to bring you to the hospital that you ended up in the Emergency Room in the first place.  Sure you were in a regular room now, but that didn’t take his mind off of the fact that you were not only admitted to a hospital, but you had been in the Emergency Room.  The last time you were here – no, don’t think about that, Yoongi chided himself mentally.

Too impatient to wait for the elevator to arrive Yoongi took the stairs three at a time to the third floor, coming to a halt outside of the stairwell into the waiting area for the third floor.   Rooms and Maternity wing were on this floor, Yoongi checked his phone again for the room number you were in before looking around at the signs pointing him in the direction to you.

“Oppa!”

Yoongi turned, his features tight, and caught sight of Min Ji rushing towards him a young woman in a white coat staring after her a clipboard in hand.

“Min Ji, where is Y/N?”

Min Ji’s face fell slightly, “The doctor wants to speak to both of us before we go and see her.”

“She’s okay,”  Despite Yoongi’s straight face his voice broke slightly as he spoke the words, fear creeping up behind his dark eyes as he stared at the young woman before him who was just as much his little sister as she was yours.  He could see the fear written plainly across her face and didn’t want to add to her fear with his own.

“Are you Mr. Min, Ms. Y/L/N’s guardian?”  A woman’s soft voice filtered across his hearing and Yoongi’s head snapped up to look behind Min Ji to the woman in the white coat.  His gaze flicked down to read the name on the coat.  Dr. Park Yoo Na, OBGYN.

“Yes, Doctor Park, I’m Y/N’s guardian, how is she?  Can you tell me what happened?”

Doctor Park smiled kindly her dark eyes fell to check the chart on her clipboard and out of curiosity, Yoongi glanced down as well seeing your name across the top.  “Y/N was here in the ER a few weeks ago with stomach cramps, correct?”

Yoongi swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat while she was speaking, her eyes still on your chart in her hands.  “Yes.”

She nodded her head, her brows knit together softly, “And they performed a pregnancy test as a precaution, correct?”

Yoongi’s anger got the better of him, the fear eating him up on the inside at all the endless possibilities of what happened to you to cause you to be here today and the doctor was only concerned with what happened nearly a month ago.

“Mr. Min?”

Yoongi snapped out of his thoughts and his dark gaze met the deep brown of the concerned doctor before him. “I’m sorry Doctor Park, but I have absolutely no idea why my girlfriend is currently in the hospital.  Min Ji-” He gestured to your sister standing next to him.  “Didn’t tell me what happened on the phone and frankly, at the moment when I found out that the woman I love was in the hospital all I cared about was getting here to see her.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to tell me what the hell happened and if she is okay or not.”

Min Ji’s eyes widened as she stared back and forth between Yoongi and the doctor, the latter of the two who thankfully seemed un-phased by the outburst.

“A few weeks ago when you brought Ms. Y/L/N in to see us in the ER the pregnancy test came back negative. An ultrasound of the abdomen was issued and blood was drawn for testing.”  Doctor Park paused, gauging Yoongi’s reaction to her words.  “Did she not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She was pregnant.”

Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat at the news.  His thoughts immediately went to your random bouts of stomach sickness and your constant waving it off as having eaten something that didn’t sit well with you and not to mention your constant mood changes – one, in particular, the time the mail carrier dropped off a package for you and you cried.  Then –

“What do you mean by was?”

Doctor Park’s eyes light with empathy, her lips parting as she glanced back down at the chart unsure how to continue.

“She had undergone the beginning stages of miscarriage when you two arrived at the hospital, there was no heartbeat when the ultrasound was done, but it was clear in the sonogram pictures that she was approximately four or five weeks along.

“The attending OBGYN and physician suggested a DNC be scheduled at a later date if the need should arise-”

Yoongi’s ears shut down, he didn’t understand the last half of what the doctor was talking about, he didn’t know what a DNC was, and he didn’t even know they had found anything in your tests.  Sure you were an adult, he was your guardian, but that didn’t mean that the doctors automatically told him what was going on.  You had assured him that everything was fine, just severe cramping from your period – worse than usual, but nothing to be concerned about.  Yoongi had never considered questioning the doctor on his own because he trusted you, if you said there was nothing to worry about then there was nothing to worry about.

Yoongi found his feet moving while the doctor was still explaining what happened, but he no longer cared, he needed to see you.  He needed to ask you why you kept something like this from him, he loved you – you knew that you should know that.

He burst through the closed door with a loud bang, his dark gaze finding you lying on the bed, head turned towards the windows – you didn’t even flinch when the door actually hit the wall behind it before rebounding.  Yoongi’s anger dissipated as he took in the lost expression clearly written across the pallor of your skin – skin that was normally bright and slightly pink.  He shut the door a little more quietly than he had opened it, his feet did not hesitate as he crossed the short space to get to your bedside.

Neither of you said a word as Yoongi slipped under the light cover to join you on the bed, his body easily curling into the arch of your back, his face nuzzled into the juncture of your neck, his arm wrapped firmly around your middle.  You flinched slightly when his hand made contact with the slight swell of your abdomen – had he really been working that much not to have even wondered?

“I love you,” Yoongi mumbled into your soft skin.

“I love you,” You replied, cold fingers gripping onto his as you both lie there in silence.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Spiderwebs

Characters: Mechanic!Castiel x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,358

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: It’s no secret that Castiel has a crush on you, but you just don’t feel that way for him. How can you let him down gently without hurting him?

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Squares Filled: mechanic!cas for @castielspnbingo // third times the charm for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo // mixed emotions for @spngenrebingo // spiderwebs by no doubt for @spnsongchallengebingo​ (this is late)

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

When you think of your parents, you think how right they are for one another. They support each other no matter what and share the love endlessly. When you think of Dean Winchester and his girlfriend, you think that it might not last past the initial lust stage. Once that fades away, you know Dean is going to dump her for another girl who can satisfy his needs. When you think of Castiel… those feelings just aren’t there. He’s a good guy, and you love him as a friend, but all he’ll ever be is a friend…

But you don’t think he understands that.      

You met him through Dean since he was the second-best car mechanic in the area. Dean offered to look at your car for you but considering what happened last time, you’d rather go to someone that he might recommend. He accidentally broke something that wasn’t broken in the first place and ended up doing more work to the car, which then turned into this whole mess. You needed work done since whatever Dean did, didn’t hold up well.

Castiel has been trying to get you to go out with him ever since he met you, but there wasn’t any spark between you two. There’s nothing wrong with him, but you’re not into guys like him. He’s super shy, he stutters when he’s nervous, and he doesn’t go for things he wants. He always asks if you’re doing alright and checks up on you which turns you off. You love a man who knows what he wants and can grab for it. You would be with Dean if you hadn’t grown up with him.

Castiel is so sweet and thoughtful, but you don’t know how to tell him you’re just not interested.

You think that we connect That the chemistry's correct Your words walk right through my ears Presuming I like what I hear

“Castiel?” you called out when you entered the back shop Castiel owned. 

He was doing pretty well for himself since he had at least five cars he was working on. One of them is yours, and when you spotted it, you headed over to see him underneath the hood with headphones in. They were so loud you could hear them where you stand, and you tried thinking of a way you could get his attention without scaring him.

You reached out for the toolbox in his line of view, and he jumped when he noticed you standing there. He quickly took out his headphones to greet you with a big smile.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up? You look very nice,” he complimented with a blush.

“Thanks. Um, how’s my car coming along?”

“Oh, I still have maybe a couple more days still in the shop until she’s ready to go.”

“Great. Anything I can do to help speed up the process?”

“Unless you know how to fix the radiator, then no,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I don’t know how to do that,” you smiled.

“I’m glad you stopped by. I have something for you.”

“Really? You didn’t have to do that,” you tried to decline since you didn’t want to continue to lead him on. 

Accepting whatever he has would mean you were encouraging him to pursue you. He waved you off and grabbed a small bouquet of flowers he must have gotten before you arrived.

“Oh, wow,” you trailed off, accepting them.

“I didn’t know your favorite kind, so I got a mix. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful. Thanks, Castiel.”

“It’s no problem, really,” he blushed.

“So my car won’t be ready until hopefully, Friday?” you asked hopefully, trying to steer the conversation back to your car.

“Yeah, maybe sooner.”

“Great. Well, I have to get going. I have Dean waiting, and I don’t want him to wait too long. Just give me a call when it’s ready, okay?”

“Oh, okay. It was nice to see you,” he stuttered. 

He wanted you to stay and hang out, but he didn’t know how to ask you. He knew you were a busy woman, but he really wanted you to stay. All you did was smile and leave the place, gripping the flowers tightly in your hands.

Sorry I'm not home right now I'm walking into spiderwebs So leave a message And I'll call you back A likely story, but leave a message And I'll call you back

“So, what’s Sam up to these days?” you asked, stuffing your mouth with a load of Chinese food. 

Dean was starting a new job nearby and, he needed to be into work super early tomorrow morning. Your place was a lot closer to it than his. You loved having him over, so you didn’t mind letting him use your spare room for a night.

“He and Jess are going to try for a baby.”

“Really? That's awesome! They’ve been trying for what, almost a year?”

“Yeah, I really hope this time it sticks because I want a niece or nephew to spoil,” he chuckled.

“Ever think about settling down and having your own kids?”

“Nah, I’m having too much fun,” he laughed. 

Suddenly your home phone started ringing, and one look at the caller ID made your eye roll in annoyance. Castiel was calling yet again, but you decided to let your machine pick it up, so you didn’t have to talk to him right now. You felt bad for treating him this way, but he’s been so clingy lately. It really wasn’t a good trait to have. The machine beeped, signaling the caller begin their message.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s me, Castiel. I just wanted to let you know that your car is ready. I don’t know when you want to pick it up, but you can call me when you get this, and we’ll set a date. N-not like an actual date, b-but… anyway, I’d really like to see you again so call me when you get this, please. It’s Castiel. Okay, bye.”

“Still dodging his calls?” Dean chuckled.

“I don’t know what to do, Dean. He keeps calling me and tells me I’m pretty and gives me flowers, and I don’t know how to tell him I’m not interested.”

“Whatever you decide to do, don’t lead him on. Castiel is a good guy, and he can use his energy on someone else. You have to tell him.”

“I know, but how? It’ll break his heart.”

“Yeah, but he can start to move on. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” you sighed and shoved another mouthful of food onto your mouth.

And now I'm stuck in the web You're spinning You've got me for your prey

“Castiel?” you called out when you entered the shop the next day.

“Back here!” he responded. 

You headed towards the back of his shop to see him closing your hood. He wiped off the dust on his jeans and smiled once he saw you.

“Is she ready?”

“All done! You know, I’m going to miss working on her because now you won’t come around here anymore. Unless you ever want to hang out with me,” he suggested in a hopeful tone.

“How much do I owe you?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation on the car and only on it.

“Oh, that’ll be $250. Dean provided the rest since he felt bad for breaking it in the first place.”

“Okay, that’s nice of him.”

“You know, I heard this new restaurant opened up downtown, and maybe if you’re not busy tonight, we could go? I hear they have all kinds of food there.”

“Here you go,” you smiled and handed him the money.

“Oh, thanks,” he took the money. 

You turned to get your car and leave when he stopped you with his words.

“You want to go with me tonight? Maybe we can take a walk in the park afterward. The weather is nice enough for it,” he asked. 

You know if you turned and looked into his eyes, you would cave and give in. Dean told you not to lead him on, and that’s what you’re not going to do. That’s not fair to him or to you, so you turned around to tell him that. However, the hope in his eyes was too bright for you to kill.

“Sure. I’d love to go,” you blurred out.

“Great!” he said excitedly. His smile was too wide to wipe off, so all you could give him in return was a tight one. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Great! I’ll see you then!”

“Can’t wait,” you said flatly. 

You can already hear Dean now calling you a pussy, and you can see him shaking his head in disappointment. How were you ever going to let him down now without hurting his feelings and crushing his soul?

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[malereader-inserts]

Got My Mind Set on You

Fandom: Gotham Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Male!Reader Summary: Jerome is mad, well both psychotic and mad for you. Word Count: 2,062 Request: ooOoooOoo Gotham hell yeah!! Could I request some Jerome x reader? I'm down for absolutely anything, but I was thinking maybe the reader is a beat cop that is known to have bad luck when it comes to running into famous criminals, but lately it's mostly been Jerome and maybe the ginger sparks some insanity into the reader's life? Love your writing by the way~!!!” A/n: idk if i’m dumb but what idk is a beat cop so I changed it to a detective

GCPD finest.

Well, as best as they could manage.

You were proud to be one of the youngsters within the band of dysfunctional, coffee addicts the city fondly called GCPD. You were a detective and at such a young age, you were questioned and challenged about your position. You proved yourself worthy of being a detective, being Alvarez’s partner was a bonus.

Alvarez, though disliked having you as a partner at first, enjoyed your commentary, your thoughts and overall impressed with your professionalism. He took you on board, under his wing and whenever he found you struggling on a case together he helped you and guided you.

You and Alvarez were Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock’s trusted detectives. Whenever the two needed extra hands on a case, the two of you would be there at the ready. 

Which also means that due to your age, being in your mid-twenties, means that you were charming and very charismatic. Which is why, when they come to a dead end they often push you to speak to the criminals. Whilst you play an innocent naive detective who has no idea what they’re doing, you often get them to speak.

Thus, getting you a reputation within the fine city. Not only you’ve dealt with basic criminals you’ve come face to face with some notorious villains. 

At first, it was Fish Mooney, though she was much kinder to you. She found you adorable and always made her men keep an eye on you. However, you have to visit her at least once a month, keep her tame. It’s how you caught the eye of her umbrella boy, Oswald Cobblepot. 

Oswald was on and off with you, much like his relationship with Jim. Jim had warned you not to be mixed in with Oswald’s plans but he just kept popping up. Smiling and inviting you around, he would always try to bait you as friends, no matter how much you didn’t want to associate yourself with him, he finds himself threatening you if you were to betray him.

“If I were to betray you, Oswald, I would have to be on your side in the first place.”

“We’re friends, (Y/n),” Oswald drawls out, “And friends have each other’s backs.”

You went back to the station, asking Harvey for a glass of his secret stash of alcohol, leaning against his desk and you knock back the burning substance. You rubbed your forehead as Jim and you lock eyes, he nodded ever so slightly understanding your predicament.

Whilst you had to run in with many of Oswald’s men, who harassed you into when you were next visiting Oswald at his mansion. You made run-ins with a psychopath you hadn’t even realised.

Sweet Ed Nygma who would come to your desk with a smile on his face, sits down in the free seat that rested next to the corner of your table. As you write your notes, you had Ed blabber on, with few comments here and there. Ed was satisfied. Until you find out he was sent to Arkham, got out of Arkham afterwards in the hopes of helping Oswald.

So, when you run into Oswald, you ran into Ed, which made you feel cold. Ed had changed, the way he talked, the way he stared down at you, the way he had confidence. 

“I need you to help me become mayor, (Y/n), just like we said we’re friends.”

“Friends don’t hit each other with an umbrella, Oswald,” You dryly commented as Oswald blinks rapidly, his mouth open trying to string up some excuse.

“We’re friends, though,” Ed mentions behind Oswald, who turned around at his sudden voice before turning to look at you with a smug smile.

“Were, we were friends Ed,” You corrected, standing up straight, ignoring the darken of his eyes, “until you decided to murder some-”

Your phone started to ring, digging out of your pockets you sighed looking at the caller ID. Oswald looks at your hands, his eyes flickering back up to you, a growing smile on his face.

“I mean Butch here would happily do whatever I say, perhaps Zsasz would-”

“I’ll see you later, no promises I would help you with your stupid mayor campaign, just-” You huffed annoyed, you had run into the strange hitman a few times and the way he stared into your eyes were giving you the shivers, as you stare at Oswald then back at Ed, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Oswald smirks as you leave his mansion, bring your phone to your ear as he looks at Butch, Ed sitting nearby.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your little fingers, boss.”

“The young ones, they’re always impressionable.”

As if, Oswald and Ed weren’t enough, you were stuck on frequently bumping into Barabra. She had no mercy for you, often times you would leave with a new injury. She was ruthless especially when she was with Tabitha. Of course, she was the one to introduce you to a new villain in the city. Jervis Tetch.

He would look at you up and down, a black eye forming as you looked annoyed to be in their presence. He found you amusing, he would scare the hell out of you by popping up in areas where you least expect him. His rhyming words would have no effect on you, though you hardly seem to notice the threats and malice within his speeches.

When he was locked up in Arkham you could breathe again without him breathing down your neck. Though, you wondered why he hadn’t infected you with his sister’s blood. Then Ed wanted to establish fear within the city causing him to team up with Butch, Barabra and Tabitha. 

You were sure you had to keep yourself on high alert because they always seem to have men around and keeping an eye on you.

“The Riddler,” You dragged the title, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood in the doorway of the Siren’s club, “Sounds like a bore.”

The three watched Ed almost throw a tantrum, as he hardens his stare, “You don’t have Oswald to protect you anymore, (Y/n).”

“No, but I wonder who would get to Zsasz first,” You bargained, “I’m young but not stupid, I’ve run into people like you before, I know how to play you.”

“People like us?”

“Psychotic.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know how you’ve lasted so long. The stress of the job was enough but getting tangled within the villains of Gotham was making your hair grey. You’ve spent any sleepless nights within the precinct, your lamp on within the darken room as you finish the last of your notes.

There was always one villain you were curious about. Jerome Valeska. You remembered him, being only eighteen, murdering his mother. You kept him company before his judgement day with Jim and his father, his confession day.

He found you a real cutie, young and very charming, much like himself. When he had seen you with bruised knuckles or hues of unflattering colours on your face he gets even turned on. So, when he had broken out of Arkham with Barabra, he went out to seek you. He kept an eye on you, as most people did. But, he wanted something different for you.

Whilst people like Penguin wanted you as a puppeteer, a man that they could break. He saw something else, a companionship, a crush as most would say. Jerome wasn’t capable of feeling love, and yet, during the massacre of the police station, he stared at you right in the eye and giggled like a little boy.

“I’ll see you, sweets.”

He runs off, only to give you one last look. Devouring your bleeding state, confused as you stood there doing nothing in your power to follow him and to stop him. He sends you last one wink before disappearing into the chaos. 

“(Y/n)?” Jim called out, you blinked and stared at him, “You’re hurt.”

“Not too bad, just my head,” You commented as you watch your partner and Harvey run into the precinct, “Go, I’ll be fine.”

Jim nods as Alvarez comes to you, you were leaning against the desk with your hands shaking. The last time you saw him was at the charity ball, he was a killer - you knew that but you couldn’t help watch in awe. Grasping in fascinating ways, he managed to seek you out whilst up on stage, he sends you a dazzling smile as you couldn’t help but smile back.

So, the last thing you were expecting him was to be revived and alive, you were sitting against one of the few cop cars, mentally preparing whatever Jim had placed on your desk. Alvarez had told you to take a breather, despite him being not right, you took it not wanting to push him.

You weren’t expected a bandaged face man with a police uniform rampaging towards you.

“Hiya sweets, mind if I borrow your car?”

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head, you thought you’ve finally gone insane with all these villains, who out for your blood for no apparent reason other to torment you, you have finally snapped.

“What?”

The next thing you knew, you were in the passenger's seat with him driving. You woke up confused as you suddenly take aware of your surrounding, jumping, grabbing the car in shock. Then you heard his famous laughter, you snapped your head to him.

“Sorry ‘bout your head,” He mentions, tilting his head to you as you briefly touched a small wound, “but, one bloody cut doesn’t compare to my face being gone.”

“Jerome?”

“That’s my name,” He gives you a charming side glance, “Please wear it out.”

He chuckles before hysterically laughing, gripping his hands against the wheel as you sat there dumbfounded. Watching how the buildings were rapidly moving past.

“What is going on?”

“Well, I was going to kill you but then I remembered who you were.” Jerome gags on his words, swerving into another pedestrian as you jump back into your seat, he giggles again, “You’re the darling detective that Jimbo likes so much.”

“I’m not Harvey.”

“Not the alcoholic freak!” Jerome exclaims, snapping his gloved fingers, “You’re the pretty face, if I remember correctly, you’re detective (Y/n) (L/n) and the truth is I like your pretty face.”

“I don’t know if I should be comforted with that statement,” You hummed, finally noticing your gun in his holster, “Where are you taking me anyway?”

“For adventure,” He simply states, almost as if that explains everything, “Doesn’t it get boring where you work. The same boring things.”

His voice deepens, make an old man, he rolls his eyes. Before small laughter ripped within the car, bringing back that you were indeed in a high speeding car with a murderer. A childlike psychopath, one wrong action or words he had your gun to kill you with.

“I get threatened every day of my life, so you and I have two different definitions of boring.”

“But, I can make your life exciting,” He was grinning, tearing his eyes off the road to prove the point, your face drops as you gripped the handles looking at the road, watching him run over more people. He waves his hands and looks back at the road, “Relax, sweets, I wouldn’t put a hand on you.”

“And if I say no?” You wondered, shifting in your seat, “I have many people wanting my head so get in line.”

He chuckles, halting the car suddenly, as you take in the new location, channel nine building with some cop cars already there. He fully turns to look at you, you could barely manage to make out his wicked smile under the bandages.

“I’m not gonna kill you, but I’ll drive you insane,” He boops your nose, “Now, be good and stay in the car, I have a business to attend to.”

You watch him exit the car, he leans down to the window, winking at you before causing havoc. You noticed he hadn’t locked the car, you could have left him but yet, oddly enough, you were just too curious about what goes in his funny little head of his.

Was this a risk?

A massive regret in the future?

Perhaps, but’s Gotham baby, and Jerome does have a charming laughter.

[wittystarkk]

The Last Five Years || Part Four || Bucky Barnes

author: wittystarkk

word count: 4k+

relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

warning: smoking?? i guess

A/N: this isn’t my favorite chapter. ngl. but. it’s still a chapter. and it isn’t bad. enjoy! (-: Feedback is greatly appreciated! (the gif is long but so cute!)

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

“Fuck!” Someone shouted from the side of the stage, kicking a metal trash can hard with the point of their shoe. Bucky snapped his head up from his script, turning to face the source of the noise. He pressed his palm flat against his thigh, pushing down in order to force his upper body straight up. His knees cracked a little when they weren’t bent.

“Everything okay?” He asked the girl who had kicked the trash can, watching her pace back and forth between the curtains of the side of the stage. She looked visibly agitated and he wanted to divide himself from her. The rest of the people in the play looked unconcerned with everything going on outside of themselves. He sighed, realizing that he was going to have to handle her himself. He crossed the stage to stand before her, folding his arms over his chest. 

The girl gave him a furious glare and Bucky held his hands up in surrender, deciding any attempts to speak to her were going to prove futile. “Right,” he nodded. “I’ll just leave you to it.” He spun on his heels, quickly marching away from the girl. He noticed the director near the front of the stage, talking with his understudy. “Hey, Jim,” he called, halting his steps on the path. “Our uh, our lead actress is having a minor meltdown. Looks like rehearsals are halted,” he snickered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

Jim groaned, throwing his hands up into the air. “What’s the problem now?” The director wondered, one hand going to his waist, the other rubbing at his forehead. “Everyone! Lunch!” The director shouted, walking off to comfort the now wailing actress. Bucky glanced at his understudy who gave him a shrug. Neither knew what was going to happen, or if the rehearsal would continue today. He decided he didn’t care. If the rest of the day got cancelled he could go home, call (Y/N), and hopefully have her over for dinner. He smiled unconsciously at the thought. 

“I’m going outside,” he called to his understudy, needing someone to know where he was in case someone needed him. The understudy nodded, his attention quickly getting pulled away from Bucky by one of the actresses that played a minor role tugging on his sleeve. Bucky exited the stage, winding through the back area until he found the exit door. Throwing it open he had to squint in the sunlight. “Jesus,” he grumbled, heading for a shaded area between the backlot of the theater and the other building.

He dug around in his pocket, trying to find his packet of cigarettes and lighter. His fingers slipped over the plastic of his lighter and he withdrew it from his pocket followed by his cigarettes. As he was pulling one out to slip between his lips, his phone began humming against his skin. He rolled his eyes, fishing his phone out of his pocket, automatically sliding his finger on the answer button without giving a look to the caller ID. “Hello?” 

A soft feminine voice on the other end greeted him, “hello! I’m looking for a James Barnes. Is he available?”

“Yeah, hi. This is James, but please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello, Bucky!” The voice sounded more cheerful than when the phone was first answered. “My name is Elizabeth Whitfield. I was going through some of the audition tapes that had passed through my door today and was entirely captured by yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, the unlit cigarette between his fingers falling to the ground. “You-you saw my audition tape? For what? I mean - I should say how?” 

He heard Elizabeth make an amused noise, “a man named Jim Adler. He’s a friend of a friend and he passed it along. Like I said, I had just gotten around to watching some of the tapes and I’m calling because I really liked yours.”

He could barely control his excited breathing as he listened to her speak. His pulse was pounding in his neck. “Right, of course Mr. Adler sent it in. That’s - that’s great. I - I - thank you for watching it.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth laughed. “Now let me get a few things correct, make sure we have the right information about you. You’ve never booked a professional gig before, correct?”

Bucky nodded his head, “yeah-yes. Is that a problem?”

Elizabeth sighed, “no, of course not. And you didn’t go to any kind of school did you? Adler included in his note about you that you were some sort of ‘natural talent’.”

He laughed, “he said that? I mean, no I didn’t go to school. I mean. I did a little bit of theater in high school if that counts?”

“Sure,” Elizabeth’s voice sounded like she was amused with him. “Listen, Bucky. I’m casting someone for a role in a movie and I was wondering if you could make it in for a meeting? A sort of audition?”

“Yes, yeah! Of course. Where, where do you need me to meet you?”

“Well, I would need you to make it to New York-”

Bucky cut her off, “oh! I live here, that’s no problem.”

Elizabeth didn’t sound disturbed by his interruption, simply continuing on in her cheerful voice. “Wonderful! Well could you manage to come in today, sometime before say, five o’clock? Do you know where the Flatiron building is? On 5th?” 

Bucky’s eyes felt like they managed to get even wider than possible, his breathing nearly completely spiratic with excitement and nerves. “Yes, yes! Of course I do. I will uh, I’ll get there. I will be there!”

“Wonderful, just ask for me when you reach the front desk.”

“Great, okay. I will, thank you. I am so - so looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Whitfield.” 

On the other end of the line, she laughed, “please, call me Elizabeth.”

“Okay, Elizabeth,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head, his hand so tight on his phone it was practically shaking. “It’s kind of like we’re friends,” he acknowledged, laughing a little, feeling embarrassed the moment the words left his mouth. 

“I look forward to meeting you, Bucky. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Okay, great. Great, I’ll see you soon too. Goodbye Ms. Whi - Elizabeth.” 

The line went dead and he pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it in utter shock. “What?” He asked his phone through a choked laugh. He looked around the empty back lot for someone, anyone, convinced he was being pranked. That he hadn’t just gotten called for an interview, audition, whatever it was. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to breathe, trying to gather his thoughts. Trying desperately to wrap his head around the fact that, he finally was getting his shot. Someone somewhere was acknowledging him past the small theaters where he would perform stupid plays he didn’t care for. 

He dragged his hand down his face, a smile never leaving his lips. He wanted to rush into the theater and grab Mr. Adler by his face, shake the man and thank him a hundred times for even bothering to send someone his tape. His stupidly made, poorly edited tape wherein he showed his acting chops. He laughed a little, jumping off the stoop he was stood on, shaking his fists around in the air, his nerves and happiness obvious in the way he moved.

He had been getting more parts in plays, sure. But he never anticipated that he would make it to the point where someone called him. That suddenly he would be starring in some stupid run-of-the-mill production and he’d be receiving a request to come meet with someone for a real movie. He was floored, completely and utterly flabbergasted as he pulled another smoke from his pack, managing to light this one as his mind began racing. 

He was already feeling like things were too good. That he was already too lucky in his life. He had enough money from working for this play that he was able to finally get his old car up and running. Hell, even working to a point where he didn’t have to struggle to get it to start every day. Bucky smoked his cigarette languidly as he thought of everything that was shaping up for him, and his body felt full and overwhelmed. 

He dropped the cigarette butt to the floor and stomped on it, needing to get his things and leave before he started freaking out during rehearsal. He wiped his hands on his pants, jogging back into the theater. “Jim,” he called, walking to the side of the stage where he had last seen him. “Jim!” He shouted, looking around for him. 

“Stop shouting,” Jim groaned, standing up from the chair he had made himself comfortable in. “What’s going on, Bucky? What do you need?”

Bucky’s smile was so big and bright it completely caught Jim off guard, causing him to take a step back. “You -” he laughed, shaking his head. “You - you gave someone that tape I gave you?”

Jim rubbed the back of his neck, looking bashful. “Look, Bucky. It was nothing, and you don’t have to say anything about it. Okay?”

Bucky shook his head, “not say anything? Are you kidding me? I just - I just got a call from someone at the studio. A Ms. Witfield… She wants me to come in today for an audition. I can’t believe it!” Bucky grabbed Jim in a hug, squeezing him tight. 

“Well,” Jim laughed, pushing Bucky away from him. “What the hell are you doing here? Go home, get changed. Get yourself put together for your audition.”

Bucky nodded, like the words Jim had just spoken to him were the greatest thing ever said. “Right!” He laughed, turning away from him. “Thank you, Jim!” He called over his shoulder as he jogged for the theaters exit. Jim watched him with amusement, shaking his head in disbelief at the boy. 

“Hey kid!” Jim called to him. “Don’t fuck it up!” 

Bucky stopped jogging when he was back outside in the sun. He scrolled through his contacts on his phone for a moment, finding (Y/N)’s number. He smiled as he pressed the call button, returning his phone to his ear. 

(Y/N) answered the phone on the third ringing sounding caught off guard, “Bucky?”

He couldn’t help but give a soft, affectionate smile when he heard her voice. “Hey, baby.” His own voice was warm and loving, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and… Let’s move in together.” He bit on the knuckle of his index finger when he finished his sentence, smiling against the skin. 

He heard (Y/N)’s bewildered laugh and hoped that he wasn’t too late. That she hadn’t changed her mind and decided to rescind her suggestion or offer, or whatever it had been. His teeth sunk deeper into his knuckle, verging on painful. “Okay,” she finally said after letting him sweat it for long enough. “Okay! Yes, let’s do it. God, really though? Are you serious?”

He withdrew his knuckle from between his teeth, smiling like a fool again. He wished his face wouldn’t look so gleeful, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Didn’t know how to tamper down the sheer elation that was pumping through his veins with the beat of his heart. “Yes, I’m serious. Just, find us an apartment, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too, but, Bucky… Bucky, wait! What happened?”

He laughed, “I’ll tell you later. I gotta go, baby. I love you!” Bucky hung up, not waiting for her response, pushing his phone into his pocket the moment the line went dead. He took in a breath deep enough to make his head feel a little light. His feet moved quickly underneath him, propelling him to his car. When he got in he let out a yell, smiling bigger than he thought his face would allow. He was in utter disbelief of his life as his car roared to life.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, pulling out of his parking spot to head out onto the street, joining the slow moving traffic that was pushing along. He had a woman he loved, and who loved him in return. A job that he didn’t mind, and an audition for something bigger, something better. Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he rolled the window down, sticking his arm out to rest on the edge. “I’ve got a feeling that things are moving too fast,” he told himself. “But God do I want it to keep on rolling.” 

--

Bucky wiped his sweating palms on the denim of his best jeans, trying to calm himself down as he waited for the elevator to take him up to the floor he needed. His mind was swirling in circles, nothing makes sense. Air felt like it was alluding his lungs every time he tried inhaling. He was sure he was on the verge of having a panic attack. 

The doors of the elevator opened and he held his breath, mustering up the courage to step off of it. The lobby of the floor he’d arrived at already felt too gaudy for him. Too rich and successful. A schmuck kid from Indiana didn’t belong being auditioned in a place like this. A place that put out esteemed movies, movies that he should only ever dream of becoming a part of. The last time he’d been here, for the initial audition, he hadn’t made it past the first floor. Had only met Elizabeth and been lead to a boring white room that looked almost clinical. He dreaded finding out what was in store for him now that he’d actually been invited up to her office. 

The woman at the desk looked bored, like she would rather be anywhere else but where she was currently. She rolled his eyes when Bucky stopped before her, looking up at him with an expression that made him want to retreat within his own skin. “Can I help you?” She asked, more condescending than he figured she should be. 

“Uh, yes, hi…” He cleared his throat, desperately trying to remember his own name, let alone the name of the woman he was meant to be meeting. “I’m here to see - to see Elizabeth Whitfield.” 

A man who had been lounging against the desk with his back to Bucky immediately turned around, looking like he’d been caught with his fly down. “Are you Bucky Barnes?” The man asked, looking Bucky over with an appraising eye. 

“Yes, I am.” 

The man’s smile was full and bright, he looked like he would be really good at selling shoes. A thought Bucky was surprised to have. “Oh, wonderful! Follow me, Mr. Barnes. Elizabeth is so excited to see you,” the man took off to the left and Bucky immediately followed in his stride, eyes darting around the offices. If someone were to hook a monitor up to his chest at that very moment, he would read on the verge of having a massive heart attack. 

The man stopped abruptly and Bucky looked into an office with a wall made of windows on one side, and the wall with the entry door made of glass. He couldn’t imagine the salary of the woman who had stood from her chair the moment she saw them approach. The man pushed the door open, unable to introduce Bucky, the woman beating him to it. “Bucky,” she exclaimed, holding her hand out for him to shake. He returned her enthusiastic smile, shaking her hand adamantly. “It’s so wonderful to see you again, please come in.” 

Bucky walked into her office and the man who had led him to it shut the door behind them, walking away from the office without so much as a goodbye. “Wow,” he breathed out heavily. He rubbed his hands against his thighs, noticing that they had gotten sweaty again. “This office is incredible,” he acknowledged, looking over at the view her office had.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth glanced out the window before sighing a bit. “Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”

Bucky shook his head, “no, thank you.”

She gave him a smile, walking around her desk to sit behind it, crossing her legs at the knees. “So!” She clapped her hands together before leaning forward, resting her arms on the desk. Bucky followed her lead, taking a seat in one of the two chairs across from her, holding his hands together tightly in his lap. It took everything he had to keep his knee from bouncing with anxiety. “The director and producers loved your audition. And, well,” The smile spread across her lips was verging on creepy in it’s happiness. Bucky swallowed thickly, watching her carefully. 

“Well, Bucky… We want to formally offer you the part.” 

Bucky leaned back in his chair, the air from his lungs rushing out in a disbelieving huff. He was definitely going to have a heart attack. “What?” He asked after a moment of processing. His voice sounded like a mix of a laugh and groan. “Are you - are you serious? Elizabeth, you want to give me the part?” 

She nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, letting out a laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself. “Elizabeth, this is incredible. I mean - Thank you. Thank you, wow.” He shook his head. His brain had utterly stopped working. Any thought halted immediately, any hope he had to sound like a well spoken and coherent member of society thrown out the door the moment she said he’d gotten the part. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears.

Elizabeth pulled a packet of papers from a drawer in her desk while she allowed Bucky to have a moment to freak out, finding a pen that worked from the mess that was a drawer she never wanted anyone to venture into. “If you’re willing to accept the role,” she pushed the papers across the surface of the desk so that they were closer to him. “You’re going to need to fill out this mountain of paperwork. By the time you’re done your signature won’t even look real to you,” she joked, setting the pen down on top of the papers. Bucky reached out and picked it up immediately, not wanting to give himself a second to think it was a dream. 

“Once everything has been filed and processed and we make sure all of our I’s are dotted and our T’s are crossed, I’ll call you again to set you up for a meeting with the director.” Elizabeth explained, leaning back against her chair, crossing her arms over her stomach. “You should get the script in the mail sometime this week. It’ll be brought by courier though, so please make sure that you have someone there to sign for it.” 

“I uh, I’m actually in the process of moving right now. Do you - is there any way that I could come by to pick it up?” 

Elizabeth shrugged, “sure. I’ll make a note of that right now and call you when it’s here.” She leaned forward and moved the mouse to her computer, clicking on a few things before rapidly typing on her keyboard. Bucky wondered how she got to be such a fast typer, figuring that it came with the job. 

“I really, I can’t thank you enough,” Bucky started thumbing through the paperwork, eyes skimming over their contents as he signed. “This is honestly going to change my life, and you have no idea how bad I have wanted this. God, thank you, Elizabeth.”

He didn’t look up when she snorted a laugh, “don’t thank me, Bucky.” Elizabeth uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, changing the knee that was on top. “You got yourself the job kid, I just invited you.” 

Bucky smiled despite being distracted by trying to remember his social security number for the paperwork. “You’re wonderful,” he mumbled, sticking his tongue between his teeth to bite on while he concentrated. He had never had to fill out so much information about himself in his life. 

When the packet of paperwork was complete Bucky was convinced he’d developed arthritis. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, though he still managed to make himself feel terrible for feeling like he’d taken too long. Elizabeth took the pen back from him and dropped it into the drawer to be lost again, accepting the paperwork when he pushed it towards her. Elizabeth smiled happily at him, “thank you for getting all of this done for me, Bucky.”

“No, please. Thank you for giving me a job,” Bucky laughed. Elizabeth stood from her chair, Bucky dutifully copying her. She held her hand out to him, giving him a million dollar smile. The two shook hands. 

“Congratulations, Bucky. I look forward to seeing you on the big screen,” Elizabeth winked at him, and Bucky felt a twist in his stomach. The big screen, Bucky repeated to himself within his head, swallowing hard. He couldn’t believe it was official. He was going to be a real actor. 

-

Bucky took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, hand fisted around an envelope. “Babe!” He shouted, clumsily tripping over a box that had been placed beside the staircase. “Fuck,” he grunted, regaining his footing. He took a second to check he hadn’t twisted his ankle before dodging a mover who was coming out of the open door to his new apartment, beaming a smile when he saw (Y/N) standing at the fireplace, trying to clean the mirror above it. “Babe!” He shouted again making her jump in fright. 

(Y/N) turned around, hand on her chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” she laughed, hurrying over to wrap her arms around him in a hug, kissing him softly. “God I didn’t think you’d ever get home you jerk.” She let go of him, noticing the envelope. “What’s that?” She asked, pointing at it. 

Bucky smiled, holding the envelope to his chest. “Well, maybe I won’t tell you, keep you in suspense.” 

(Y/N) laughed, trying to pull the envelope from him. “Bucky!” She whined, laughing in exasperation. Bucky tapped his lips, winking at her when she finally caught on. She leaned up and gave him another kiss. He smiled, letting the envelope go. 

“You are holding my very first paycheck from the movie, babe.” 

(Y/N) pulled the check out of the envelope, her jaw dropping in shock. “Bucky!” She shouted, looking at the amount before looking up at him. “You’re fucking me, right?” She asked, holding the check up.

Bucky laughed, “well not right now. But probably later tonight.” He winked, receiving a smack to the chest for his joke. “Looks like we’re gonna be able to afford this apartment baby.” 

(Y/N) shrieked a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. “Baby, I’m so proud of you.” She whispered against his cheek, knotting her fingers in his hair. “I am so, so proud of you,” she repeated, moving to press her forehead against his. “You’re doing it, baby. You’re making it.”

Bucky held his arms around her tightly, pressing their bodies tighter than should be possible. “I love you,” was all he could manage to say.

~~

If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know!

@petlaufeyson​, @lovely-geek​

[honeymoonjin]

high-rise - jungkook x reader

A/N: requested by a lovely anon: 4, 65, 78, Jungkook: “You’re so perfect. And I’m so fucking lucky.” Rooftop. Dancing. Please note; I made myself fall in love w Jungkook all over again so that’s just great. When you and Jungkook get stuck on a rooftop minutes before their concert is about to start, the two of you decide to make the most of it. 1.4k.

“Fuck, it’s locked!”

You swear this kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. Maybe if you saw this in a television show or a movie, you’d think it was cute, but you had places to be. “Dammit, Googie, I knew we shouldn’t have come up here! Oh, shit, Namjoon’s calling me.”

Jungkook frowns as you take the call, then checks his own pocket, where his phone has been silently going off with presumably countless missed calls. He mouths a sorry at you.

“…with him, yeah. He says sorry for not answering, he put it on silent again. I know. That’s the thing, we can’t get to the concert.” You cringe and pull the phone away as a voice, not even Namjoon’s, screeches a ‘what?’ through the phone. “Do you have me on speaker, Namu? Yeah, listen, Jungkook wanted to get a photo of the arena, so we came up to the rooftop of this random building, but the door locked behind us.”

Namjoon sighs as some of the younger members hoot loudly in the background. “Just say you guys are running late and get here. Honestly.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist, “here, I’ll send you a snap of the door to prove it.” You let the line hang quiet as you send him a photo, and you put the phone back up to your ear. Jungkook seems infuriatingly calm, unlike you. “So, I don’t know what we’re going to do. I tried knocking on the door, but no one’s in the building.”

“…fuck,” Namjoon mutters, “don’t tell me you idiots actually broke in to one of those skyscrapers down the road.”

Jungkook huffs and skips over to you, snatching the phone. “We didn’t break in, we… The door was open, okay? I wanted a good shot, I figured since it was still under construction, they probably didn’t have a security system installed. My bad.”

“Your bad?” his hyung spits out in a strangled voice. “Seriously, Jungkook, we’re on in ten. You told us half an hour ago that it was a bathroom break.”

You bite your lip anxiously, staring out across the gorgeous vista, where a massive open-air arena is teeming with masses of fans. It was a good shot. Jungkook pouts, sinking down onto the chilly concrete floor in defeat. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Joonie. I just saw the crowds and wanted to surprise you all with a photo. It looks incredible, hyung; all those fans are here for us.”

“I know it’s exciting, but this is so-” Namjoon’s voice cuts off suddenly. The two of you wait as he converses with someone in the background, before the line crackles again. “Listen, guys, it’s too late for us to get you now. We’ll have to say you’re sick, or something, and try and send some people to get you out here for the second half. But don’t post that photo, okay? For all intents and purposes, you’re resting backstage right now.”

“Resting it is,” Jungkook chirps happily, and hands the mobile back to you.

Before you can speak, Namjoon is addressing you. “Why would you let him do this, Y/n? Jungkook, fine, but you? I expected better.”

You pick at your nails guiltily. “With all due respect, sir, he told me he left his keys up here and I didn’t want him roaming around a foreign city alone.”

Jungkook gives you a scathing look as you dob him in, but Namjoon just laughs tiredly. “Okay, okay, point taken. Hang tight, yeah? We’ve gotta go now.”

“Bye, Namu,” you reply, sighing and sitting on the cold concrete floor as he hangs up. “Great. Let’s hope we don’t freeze to death out here.”

Jungkook pushes you back gently with one foot to your shoulder, then straddles you, a knee on either side of your waist. “I know what we could do to keep warm,” he says suggestively.

“I’m not fucking you on a rooftop,” you deadpan.

“Come on, baby,” he begs, “we’re so high up, nobody could see us. And besides, don’t try and tell me the open air wouldn’t feel great on your-”

“Shut it,” you interrupt, “and let me up. I’m going to catch a cold if I lie down on this any longer.”

Your boyfriend looks a little put out, but lifts you up with ease, re-locating the two of you to a painter’s sheet that’s covering the far edge of the rooftop for some reason. Here, you’re right beside the edge, a stainless steel-and-glass barrier the only thing between you and certain death. Although, with Jungkook, you feel completely safe.

He does the gentlemanly thing, and instead cuddles you for warmth, you tucked in between his legs, resting back on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You hum happily and watch in fascination as the concert begins with a dazzling show of lights and thunderous applause.

You realize, as the first song begins to play, that you can hear the area surprisingly well from where you are. As much as you hated to admit it, Jungkook did choose a particularly excellent spot for a photo. You were close enough to the arena that, if you squinted, you could actually see small dots roaming the black stage, six of them in total. It made you a little sad that Jungkook was missing out on doing what he loved.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the open air, “I should’ve stopped you. Then you would’ve been there with them.”

“Don’t be. Yes, it was a dumb ide- No, actually it was a great idea, but poor execution.” You chuckle as he rests his chin on your  Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, even though this particular predicament sucks absolute ass, there’s no place I’d rather be, because I’m here with you.”

You scoff to hide the fact that you’re blushing. “I don’t know; I think thousands of adoring fans are better than one measly girlfriend. Statistically, I don’t stand a chance.”

Jungkook’s arms tighten minutely around you. “Stop it. Yes, I love the fans, but they’ve got nothing on you. You’re so perfect. And I’m so fucking lucky.”

“Not as lucky as me,” you mumble, “none of those idiots down there get to cuddle with you on a below-zero rooftop.”

He laughs, turning his head to give you a soft kiss on your cheek. “That’s correct. So, why don’t we enjoy it?”

And enjoy it you do. Song after song play, with you feeling unbelievably blissful as Jungkook delicately sings his lines into your ear, occasionally harmonising with the other members. When song six arrives, however, Jungkook pushes you gently off of him.

“Come on,” he declares, standing up and holding a hand out to you, “let’s dance.”

You laugh incredulously as Jimin’s angelic voice rings through the night air. “What?”

“Let’s dance,” he repeats, “I wanna dance with you. It’s like, the most cliché thing in the world, so you know it has to be good.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you up, and your hands automatically fall on his shoulders, linking your hands at the back as you sway back and forth. You look up into his eyes, feeling your breath leave you. He’s so beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at, like the sun or a fireworks show. His eyes hold galaxies, and right now they’re staring right at you with the softest smile playing on his lips.

“I love you so much,” you mumble without even realizing you’re saying it.

The sound lingers in the air between you for less than a few seconds. “I love you more.”

You shrug, leaning further into him and resting your head on his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That’s odd,” he comments teasingly, “you found it so easy to believe that I had somehow left my keys on the rooftop of a building under construction.”

“Hey!” You unlink your hands to smack him on the chest, then return stubbornly to your previous position. “I trusted you, Googie. You took advantage of my sweet innocence.”

“Me taking advantage of your sweet innocence would be me fucking you on the rooftop like I wanted to.”

You lean back, winking salaciously at him. “Well, there’s still time.”

He breaks into a toothy grin and laughs. “Fuck, you really are perfect.”