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sugarfreecapsicle · 5 years

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study buddy

bucky barnes x reader

Prompts: college!au (1.5k constellation writing challenge by @sunmoonandbucky); fake dating!au & unplanned bed sharing trope (star’s multi-fandom follower celebration by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan )

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit of pining, lots of awkward interaction, fluff!!!!

Wordcount: 2k-ish

A/N: oh my god, y’all, I can’t believe two of my favorites have challenges going on at the same time. I’m so honored to call them both friends - both are phenomenal writers in their own right and I am always floored by their respective work. I love the both of your oh so dearly and am so happy you’ve reached such important milestones! You deserve every happiness, and I hope this fic can bring you just a little of that.

Gif Credit (x)

Assigned seating did not end in grade school. The nightmare of desk dictatorship held strong in Fury’s classroom - a man of simple rules and unquestioned respect for his time. Your research into your professors via many forums and sites like RateMyProfessor did not alert you to the nightmare of obeying his law to the letter.

“If I were sorry about my decision, I’d apologize, but I’ve always been an honest man. You chose your seat, you chose your partner, and you chose to break up. That’s a personal problem to solve on personal time. Not mine. See you next class.”

Your conversation on the phone with Wanda and Maria definitely didn’t help lift your mood. Wanda, empathetic and full of irrational resolutions like falsifying a restraining order. Maria, ever practical and smug with her I-told-you-so attitude.

“I don’t know what else you expected from Fury of all people,” Maria chuckled before biting into an apple slice. “Even if he thinks Brock is an asshole, he won’t make an exception without something dire on the line.”

“Maybe you can just switch classes? I’m pretty sure there’s an opening in-” “Wanda, I love you, but I can’t switch classes two weeks from finals.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeeze your eyes shut in the afternoon sun. “I’ll just...I’ll just handle this as gracefully as I can.”

“Godspeed,” Maria deadpans before dropping the call.

“Y’know, I didn’t want to have to resort to this,” Wanda’s trepidation fueled your oncoming tension migraine, “but maybe it’s time to call in your favor with Bucky.”

Your heart drops somewhere on the pigeon-shit sidewalk.

“Wanda....I think you might be right.”

The saying goes that once you’ve hit rock bottom there’s nowhere to go but upward. If calling in a favor to your freshman year crush turned campus heartbreaker didn’t qualify, you didn’t want to find out where bedrock truly could be.

You shouldn’t be surprised to find a technology major in the library swamped with work on a Tuesday, but when that student is James Buchannan Barnes, it’s worthy of flipping the world ass over teakettle. Dashing as ever, stormy eyes, chestnut hair combed just so. Your backpack thuds on the floor beneath the co-op table, and his eyes find you.

“Hey, stranger,” he murmurs with an impossibly charming smile that lights his entire face. “Where have you been since August?”

Fighting a smile around Bucky is futile, so you let a grin appear. “Unfortunately dating Brock and sitting next to him in Fury’s class.”

His smile pulls into a tight wince as you take your seat across from him and retrieve your laptop from your bag.

“I don’t envy you.” Bucky waves and nods briefly at another student passing by behind you, and you turn to notice it’s a shapely redhead you recall from last semester’s art history class. “He won’t budge without legal documentation at best.”

Your fingers twist and curl together in nonsensical patterns in your lap. “Well, I was hoping to get Brock off my case, actually.”

Bucky doesn’t respond more than raised eyebrows and startled blinking.

“Would...could you be my fake boyfriend long enough to convince Brock we aren’t getting back together?” It comes out all rushed and nervous, syllables running together like a skittering mouse across the kitchen floor. Your heart hammers against your chest, determined to break free of your body every second Bucky stalls his reply. You can’t read him - he’s still leaned back in dumbfounded silence.

At long last he leans in, hands steeple between the two of you, calculating gleam in his eye. “If you’ll help me figure out how to pass this English Lit final, I’ll actually date you.”

You both laugh quietly, minding the nearby staff eyeing your space at the table. Pink tinges your cheeks dangerously beyond mere flattery.

“Let’s just agree to fake dating for now, and we’ll see if you can still stand to share space with me after a few weeks.”

“Deal.” Bucky extends his hand, you grasp it and shake to your agreement. Your fingers reluctantly move to let go, but Bucky holds firm and pulls the back of your hand to his smirking lips. “Whatever you need, darlin’.”

Days later you’re still tingling from his public affection in the library. Could you have been imagining the color shift in his eyes when he peered over your hand or was it purely fantasy? Lack of caffeine, mental fixation from stress - more likely than any truth to how deeply in character he seemed to be already.

Bucky escorts you to your classes with his fingers threading yours, a hand at the small of your back, an arm flung around your shoulders. He’s in your ear, whispering jokes and delicious plans for the rest of your time together, kissing your forehead or your cheek when you reach the door. Keeping your arrangement from Wanda and Maria could only be explained by the stress of impending finals, and you’d managed to avoid inevitable party and holiday invitations. If nothing else, this pretending made the idea of being near Brock again less intimidating.

Fury Friday arrived sooner than you’d felt it should, and as set in precedent, Bucky strolls next to you with his hand in yours, beaming and chatting about how he’d managed to bring his scores up enough in Statistics to earn a pass on his final and thereby free up his weekend. Dread skirted in your lungs, a distant siren’s call to your sense of reason as the reality of sitting next to Brock for two hours pressed upon you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna keep me guessing?”

He’s too good at this, and Bucky has to know it. “Sorry, I...am not looking forward to this.”

“I can’t think of anyone that looks forward to a Fury class to be fair,” he laughs breathily and puts a soothing hand to your waist. A kiss lingers on your forehead, and Bucky’s spicy cologne takes over your senses in a tight embrace. “Especially with Rumlow as your seatmate.”

His whispered acknowledgment makes your whole body shiver, and he responds with a few brushes over your arms and back to stir away the obvious chilled gust of wind that’s painted your cheeks pink again.

“Knock ‘em dead, killer,” he teases with a single knuckle against your chin. Bucky’s nose brushes just barely against yours, and then he’s dashing down the hallway with a wave over his shoulder. It dawns on you as you take your seat - your neighbor pleasantly absent - that Bucky could be sacrificing too much for a fake relationship, for your sake. Brock could be all bark and no bite, but a small part of you felt he could be a breath away from snapping. Others are milling about the room, so you pull your phone out and send Bucky a text. The little heart next to his name stings somewhere deep in your chest.

You’re not missing classes just to walk me to and from, right?

Your laptop is open and ready to go, humming to life while you bend beneath the elongated desks to make sure you could plug into an outlet if need be. The buzz of a reply sends you hurtling into the composite tabletop, a loud thud followed by tittering giggles around the filling room.

Brock is glaring down at you and your phone screen, mouth in a thin line, eyebrows knitted together. You don’t say a word to him and try to keep his prying eyes from your screen.

Not missing, exactly, but cutting it close. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.

“Didn’t take you long to hop on someone else’s dick, did it?”

His voice churns in your stomach, but you don’t acknowledge him. Had this been any other class but Fury’s you could put in earbuds and block him out. Brock’s eyes are on you, or at least the cold sweat chilling the back of your neck makes you think as much, and he’s seething, boring holes into your form. For two hours. For an entire Fury lecture.

Your shoe catches one of the rear legs of his chair, but you can’t bother to turn around and apologize - not like the seat budged under the star athlete. Bucky grins as you exit through the wide double doors, moves to wrap an arm around you, and you pull him by his jacket to your lips. You’re lost in his cologne, the feel if his mouth on yours, his body heat against the biting December cold. There’s a hum, something of a moan quiet enough to feel and dream of hearing - and you can’t be sure if it came from you or Bucky. With a dizzied wobble, you’re separated and Bucky’s eyes are still closed, arms cocooning you against his form.

“Hey,” he chuckles, voice deep and husky, the grin tugging at the right corner of his mouth.

“Hi,” you’re just as breathy and more than a little wanting. “Ready for the weekend?”

______________________________________

Friday night passes without a mention of the kiss.

The entirety of Saturday passes, and no mention of the kiss.

And it’s all you can think about. Forget studying for finals, forget meal prepping for the guaranteed necessity of pre-made lunches and dinners. That kiss.

You’d caught him off guard, but he didn’t hesitate to respond hungrily. Bucky tasted of honeyed tea and cinnamon chewing gum, carried the warmth of summer sun beneath his jacket. You hadn’t considered prior to the rash decision to just fucking kiss him that your senses would swim in his aftershave, his sheer proximity, the comfort of him. For you, Bucky had never been so tangible.

Truthfully, Bucky had never been tangible for anyone - notorious campus-wide for gracefully bowing out of invitations for dates, one night stands even. People of course talked, spread rumors that he had to be dating a professor in secret, that he had a long distance relationship with a supermodel overseas.

Until that kiss two days ago.

Bucky arranged for time to cram for his English Lit final with you tonight in his apartment, more for the convenience of avoiding scorned women at every corner of your dorm than anything else. He did have more space, privacy and faster internet than the supplied campus Wi-Fi.

Is it appropriate to bring wine to a study session or is that strictly for dinner parties? Maybe some appetizers? Seven o’clock on a Sunday night typically meant binging as many football games as anyone could consume, especially in a college town.

You’re buzzed up to this apartment, cream puffs in hand, and freeze when Steve opens the door to a living room full of people in various coordination of navy and ivory. The tall blonde ushers you in and sweeps your dessert out of your hands before you can locate your study buddy.

“Buck’s in his room,” Steve offers with some mischief. “Says he needs to pass this final, so he’s passing on the game night.”

It’s easy enough to figure out which room with a shut door is Bucky’s when Sam walks out of the bathroom and immediately checks the score on his phone (the space around the smaller television is too busy to see). You knock, probably a little too lightly at first, but the second set of taps nearly clock Bucky’s throat.

He’s beaming, cheeks flushed, smile wide - like a smitten kid. His electric touch pulls you into his bedroom already scattered with his scrawlings and textbooks. The door barely provides enough sound protection from the party for you to feel comfortable at attempting to concentrate.

“I really thought Steve had an away game this weekend, but I hadn’t thought about having a bye week for finals -” Bucky stops, feet strategically between loose paper and dog-eared texts. And god, he’s looking at you like that again and you can’t breathe.

Suddenly you understand the gravity of your feelings, and your mouth goes dry.

This isn’t fake for you. Not anymore.

“Really, I’m glad you still wanted to help me out.” Bucky’s sincere, permanently grinning as he’s rearranging his chaotic floorspace to make room for you. You swallow hard as you eye the sliver of skin between his sweater and his lounge pants, the well-loved hoodie pooling around his middle as he bends from his hips. When he’s upright and inviting you to settle in, you decide that professionalism has to outweigh your own personal crisis - think like Fury.

Hours later, the two of your are in a shambles - Bucky insisted you change into a pair of his sweats and a tee shirt in the event of an all nighter, you’d made a run for fast food, and your eyes can hardly stay open long enough to fact-check Bucky’s recitation.

“I think maybe we should call it a night,” he yawns, interrupting his monologue. You nod mutely and move to get up when Bucky catches your arm. “Uh, I mean, you could...you could stay.”

You shouldn’t, though, for reasons Bucky doesn’t know - but he has an excellent argument: you’re in no shape to get yourself home and with the party still going strong outside his bedroom there’s no way he can drive you home.

Bucky helps you get to your feet and smooths his hands over your shoulders. “Scout honor, no funny business. They’ll all crash on top of each other in the living room and Steve’s room. You’d at least have a little more space in here. I’ll take the floor -”

“Absolutely not, Bucky Barnes.” Your tone even surprises you; the Fury switch quickly dissipates. “I mean, I can’t in good conscience let you do that, it’s your room. We can...we can just share, if you don’t mind -”

“Not at all.” Maybe it’s your drowsiness but he seems eager. “Just washed the sheets anyway, and the blanket’s something Mom and Gran quilted for me as a kid.”

Soft cotton and jersey envelop your aching muscles, and a betraying moan of contentment escapes you when Bucky curls into bed next to you. He’s warm, a furnace beneath the covers, haven from the biting cold.

His stubble, still unshaven from Friday, borders on scruff and tickles your forehead. Hands ease over your back, tentative, hesitant. You can’t deny him and certainly can’t deny yourself this moment.

“Darlin’?”

He’s whisper soft, cotton candy words prickling against your skin. You hum and his hands still against your shirt.

“Wasn’t kidding about actually dating you, y’know. If you want to take up the offer-”

Your fingers are on his lips, you crane your body to get a better look at his beautiful, tired face.

“Ask me again in the morning, Buck. After coffee. So I know this isn’t delirium.”

He sighs and presses a tired smile into your forehead. “Whatever you need, darlin’.”

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marmolady · 4 years

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Growing Pains: Part Three

PART ONE PART TWO

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. For Liv and her mothers, Taylor and Estela, a turbulent period of transition is afoot. Set primarily in the distant future of 2033.

Word Count: 5678

More Liv fics here: Livita, Teething Problems, Milestones and Memories, Mutual Comfort, All That Matters

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn, @mrsmontoya, @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @quinnkellys-wife, @greengroove

La Huerta, 2033

The sun slowly began to set, and a cool breeze came in from the sea. The reunion was in full swing, and Taylor, had found her way poolside, the traditional centre of all activity. The energy all around her was wonderfully refreshing after all the time she’d spent hiding herself away from the world; the sounds of the most familiar of voices as her friends caught up with one another, therapeutic. She was far too much of an extrovert to isolate herself; she knew that now.

Sitting down at the bar, it only took a few skilled flourishes of bottles before Raj was handing her a signature drink.

“It’s been a little while since I’ve had one of these,” she laughed. The joys of pregnancy. Worth it, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t a little relieved it was all over in time for the reunion. “Mm, that’s fruity! And just the right amount of kick to it. I say this every year, but you really do know me.”

“Another happy customer at the BhandarBar? You know there’s nothing I’d rather hear!” Raj beamed. He came around the bar and sat beside Taylor, sensing a need in her. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages-- last time I saw you, you had a baby on board. How has life been treating you, Taylor, my friend?”

“Oh, you know. My whole body gearing up for looking after baby, and then trying to tell it ‘no, that’s not what’s happening, here’; that’s been a bit of a challenge. My mood swings have been epic. I know she already did deserve one, but christ, Estela deserves a medal. Liv as well. I swear I’ve been like a walking hormone or something.”

“Well, if you need someone to lay it all on….”

He didn’t even get to finish. Taylor had her arms around him, hugging him tight. Where the tears were coming from now, she didn’t quite know. Maybe it was just a release of everything she’d been carrying these past months. But come they did, thick and fast.

“That’s it, bro. Let it all out. I’ve got plenty of shirts if you get boogers on this one--”

Taylor spluttered, laughing until she made herself choke and cough. “I don’t even know why I’m crying! That’s just me right now. A little bit useless.” Well, if you talk like that, you’re gonna be sobbing all night.

“You? Never. We have witnesses! You are definitely not useless. You just need a bit of Taylor Time right now. You’re allowed to take some Taylor Time.”

“For how long?” Taylor sighed. “Liv’s only nine-- sorry, nine and three-hundred-and-sixty-four days. That distinction is important to her. But she needs me. My body’s all geared up to be a mom, but with Liv I feel like I just can’t do anything. Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Trust me. I’ve had those days. You know I’ve had those days. And listening when your mind and body need a rest isn’t a bad thing. If Liv was feeling the way you were, what would you have her do?”

Taylor pouted. “Who told you you could use my double standards to pep talk me? Fine! I’d tell her to be kind to herself. Every time.”

“So. What are you going to do?”

“Be… kind to myself,” Taylor said begrudgingly. Damn you, Raj. I can’t argue with that logic.

“We’re going to home-school Livi. For a year, use that time to reassess where we want to be in life. I’m a little nervous, but… I like that I’m going to be more proactive in her life. I’m glad I had Michael; having him was one of the best things I’ve ever done, but I want to be able to put my energy into Liv, and Estela, our little unit. Mostly, I’m excited. I am so, so ready to feel like a mom again.”

“Aw, Taylor-baby, you always were. But I getcha, sometimes you kind of lose a part of yourself in all that life throws up. And whatever life wants to throw at Liv, you guys got her back. She’s done all right for herself with you two.”

Exhaling, wiping away those stupid tears-- hadn’t she cried enough?-- Taylor nestled into a warm hug. Raj was a talented man, but no more so than in his ability to make everything feel all right. Together, her family had weathered many storms, and their bond would carry them through any still to come.

_____________________________

La Huerta, 2027

A resounding crack of lightning had Liv dive under the blankets, shaking in her Batman pyjamas. To her, it felt as though the storm had been raging for hours. Never had she heard the sky sound so angry. She burrowed under her Mama Estela’s arm.

“Mommy, it’s so loud,” she whimpered.

“I know, mija,” Estela said gently, stroking her four-year-old daughter’s hair. “But it can’t hurt us in here. Our house is strong and safe.”

The creaking of wood in the wind made Liv nervous. If the house was safe, why did it have to complain so much? Was it trying to scare her?

“It’s okay, Livi-sweetie,” Taylor soothed. “We’re all gonna sit this one out together.”

The family trio were sharing the big queen-size bed, Liv tucked up snuggly between her two mothers. There had been no talk of attempting to settle Liv in her own room; she was distressed, and that meant she could take security in the maternal bed.

As the howling wind became a frightening roar, Liv whined softly. At the foot of the bed, the little dog, Fenix, was sleeping soundly. Fenix didn’t have the best of hearing, which on this occasion struck Liv as quite lucky. The cat, Madam Mierdita, seemed more grumpy at the disturbance than frightened, growling and changing colours with every scary rumble.

“Hey, Liv,” Taylor said cheerily, hoping her easy tone would lessen the tension, “Knock, knock!”

Liv peered over the covers. Was now really the time? She’d humour her silly Mama Taylor. “Who’s there?”

“Europe.”

“Europe, who?” Liv asked, then her eyes went wide and she gave a shout of laughter. “Ha! You’re a poo, Mama Taylor!”

“No, you’re a poo!” Taylor chuckled. Saved, once again, by some good old fashioned toilet humour.

Estela rolled her eyes and shook her head exaggeratedly. “Oh, cariňa, you blow me away with your comedic wit.”

“Yeah!” Liv affirmed enthusiastically, apparently still oblivious to the art of sarcasm. “It was super funny!” She flinched at another crash of lightning, but didn’t hide under the covers.

“Well, my fan club, here comes another one!” Taylor smirked at Estela’s dramatic groaning. If it eased Liv’s fear, they could and would do this for hours. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?”

“I dunno, Mommy. W-why?” Liv asked, her voice wavering as a rumble of thunder seemed to shake the very earth. But if the world was ending, it would surely wait to hear the rest of Mama Taylor’s joke first.

“To get to the bottom!”

On queue, Liv squealed with laughter. “You said ‘bottom’!”

“You know, Taylor, I’m sensing a theme here.”

“Hey-- toilet jokes aren’t my favourite, but they’re a solid number two!”

“Dios mío! Why do I feel like I’m in for a long night?” Estela reached to tickle Taylor’s belly, which served to push Liv ever deeper into her giggle fit. She could never adequately express just how grateful she was that their daughter had that gorgeous dork to see her through the scary times. Don’t you ever change, mi amor.

The storm raged on. Cocooned together in their humble sanctuary, the small family saw it out-- or at least, Taylor and Estela did. Liv nodded off amid the thunder and the lightning, the wind and the rain… safe in her mothers’ arms.

_______________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Livi-- be careful!”

“I am careful!” Liv hollered down from a towering palm tree. She had everything under contro--

There was a thud, and the squeak of breath being forced from Liv’s lungs as she hit the ground hard.

“Ow.”

Taylor rushed over, but her view was quickly blocked by young Isla, who had gotten there first.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt, Isla. See?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“Can you move all your arms and legs?”

“Yes!”

“On a scale of one to ten--”

Taylor cut in, feeling simultaneously relieved and incredibly fond of her friends’ little nurse in training. “Thanks, Isla, sweetheart. I think we’re good from here. Right?”

Liv scowled and jumped to her feet as if nothing had happened. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Oh, Livita, foiled again by your old friend, gravity?” Estela laughed from her comfortable spot on the beach. She’d seen Liv through enough bumps and scrapes to know when there was nothing to worry about.

Taylor snorted, and ruffled Liv’s short hair. “Gravity’s a bitch. Try and respect her in the future, okay?”

Gravity wasn’t just a bitch. Gravity was Liv’s nemesis. A literal pain in her ass. Someday, Liv had decided, she was going to get a pilot licence like her Uncle Jake. That would teach bloody gravity.

A yell distracted Liv from her plotting.

“Hey, Livia! Livia!” Reggie hollered as he pelted up the beach. “The big tortoise came back! Diego said we can feed him! Quick!”

That got her attention. The past two years, the mighty Shore Guardian had lumbered into their midst during the reunion, and it had been an incredible thrill. In an instant, she was off and running.

“Liv, when I say to be careful…,” Taylor started.

“I know!” she called over her shoulder, “ Actually be careful. But you know I’m not scared of some old Shore Guardian, right?”

The tortoise was colossal. Built like a tank; the peak of his pyramid-like shell reached the height of a man. It had come as an immense relief to everyone when the creature started appearing on La Huerta’s shores, that he was of a docile and placid disposition.

“Helloooo there, Shelly!” Liv called, clambering up and over the rocks, a bunch of glowing flowers in her hand. “I brought you a snack.”

“See,” Diego said from his perch, overlooking the beast, “I told you he’d come back. He’s pretty smart. He must know that the reunion happens every year, and that the reunion means kids bearing flowers. I think you’ve started something, though-- the Vaanti kids are all over this guy when he hangs near Elyys’tel.”

“He’s less scary than the yeti-bear. I like the yeti-bear, but Mom and Mom say I’m still too young to give her a pat. Do you think I should make friends with the Sea Guardian next?”

The Sea Guardian was rarely observed. It was something like a plesiosaur with scales all the colours of the rainbow, and even after more than a decade since Cetus’ demise, it seemed as though the monster was only gettng larger. Sighting the beast was something of a badge of honour for young Vaanti, with the bolder among them daring to touch its back-- some even managing to take loose scales when the beast was shedding. There had only been a few serious injuries over the years, but the practice was largely frowned upon-- especially by those old enough to remember Cetus’ wrath. If there was one thing everyone agreed upon, it was that they did not want another Cetus.

Diego chuckled nervously. “Better stick to old Shelly. He appreciates your friendship.”

“Yeah, Livia, you should look after the friendships you’ve got,” Reggie said, huffing and puffing as he came over the ledge. “It’s not like you’ve got many.”

“Hey!”

“Was I insensitive again?” he asked sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“A little,” Diego said. “Why don’t you come closer and feed Shelly with Liv?”

Reggie eyed the hulking beast. “No… no, I’m fine just watching. A good scientist never interferes with wildlife. You know Jane Goodall used to feed chimps bananas? But that was like… years and years ago. Now we know that is not the best way to science.”

“Whatever, Reggie,” Liv laughed, “but don’t cry to me when I’m Shelly’s best friend.”

Down on the sand, Liv could feel the enormous presence of the giant tortoise as he towered over her, sniffing.

“Good boy, Shelly. You wanna flower?”

Diego watched her, ready to swoop down and pull her to safety if the beast appeared bothered. “Good job, Livi. Nice and slow so you don’t freak him out. Like… like you’re Hiccup and he’s Toothless.”

Liv chuckled, and peered into Shelly’s mouth as it gaped open to take a flower. “I think he is toothless.”

“Yeah, but I bet his hard mouth could break all the bones in your hand!” Reggie piped up.

“Shelly would never,” Diego assured. “He knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.”

The tortoise gave a rumbling grumble of pleasure as he swallowed a flower.

“How have you guys been recently?” Diego probed, keeping it light, but knowing that life had recently been a rough ride for the kids. “I heard Maia moved schools; that kind of sucks. She was pretty great.”

She was pretty pretty, Liv thought, though she kept that to herself. “I’ve been really sad and lonely. But it’s all better now-- we’re all back here! No mean dumbasses. I wish Maia didn’t have to leave though.”

“I decided I don’t like getting in fights,” Reggie said. “I am now officially a pacifist. But… I guess I’ve gotta make exceptions if people are gonna say stuff about my sisters. They’re only little. They can’t stand up for themselves.”

“Better stick to fighting with your words, Reggie,” Liv said with a little smirk. “I have never seen such a weak-ass punch in my life….”

“Hey, I did pretty good!”

“If I hadn’t jumped in, they’d still be mopping you off the floor now,” she laughed.

“Well, maybe I’m better at more important things, like actually using my brain! You should try it sometime.”

“Okay, okay,” Diego intervened. “Easy, kids! You don’t want to freak old Toothless out.”

Liv looked up at Shelly. He was calmly chewing on the last flower she’d offered him, not batting an eyelid at the raised voices.

“Tio Diego,” she murmured. “Can I tell you something? And Reggie-- you can know too.”

“Of course, you can, Liv.”

“Well… it’s kinda… embarrassing. But I know you won’t laugh. Not when it’s important. I like liked Maia. I thought everyone would laugh at me if they found out I had a crush on a girl. I know it’s not something to be ashamed of, but I was still… too scared.”

“You’re telling us now-- that takes a lot of guts,” Diego told her. “It is scary. You never know how people are going to react. Most people are pretty cool these days, but it only takes one mean person to make you feel sad and small.”

Liv climbed back up onto the rocks to sit by her uncle’s side. “Yeah. Some of the kids already teased me about my moms. I thought there would probably be at least one mean person.”

“That’s fair,” Reggie concluded. “I mean, you’re probably right. If they were jerks about Erin, probably they wouldn’t be any nicer to you. They already think you’re kinda weird.”

Diego put an arm around his niece, and she leaned close. After all these years, he could always tell when she needed a hug. “Coming out and showing yourself to the world should always be on your terms. If you didn’t feel ready, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It means a lot that you feel comfortable enough to share with me.”

“Of course! You’re my tio. I can tell you anything. Even the things that are just silly and annoying… you listen anyway.” Liv sighed, and threw down her last flower to the great, lumbering tortoise, who scarfed it down eagerly. “I’m sad that Maia is gone. I thought eventually I’d be brave enough. I can be brave with stuff like protecting people who need help, but feelings are harder.”

“Feelings can be the absolute hardest. But we’re on your side, whenever you’re ready to share them. Me and Varyyn, and Reggie, and your moms. Your moms are so proud of you, you know? Being sensitive and caring can be tough, but those feelings are what make you strong. Your Mama Taylor told me you’ve been helping her get up every day when she’s been feeling really down. You make a difference-- a good one. You don’t have to be brave enough for everything all at once.”

“Thanks, Tio. You’re smart. No wonder you wrote like, two whole books. All teachers should be as nice as you.”

“Well, I do my best. And in the end, that’s all you really can do. Do you remember from Cinderella? ‘Have courage, and be kind.’ I’d say you’re both pretty good at that already.”

______________________________

La Huerta, 2031

Seven-year-old Liv reached out her hands to a stricken bird as it flailed in distress. The sound of it being slammed against the window of the house by a larger, more aggressive foe had made her all but jump out of her skin, but if something might be hurt, she had to get over her fright quickly and help.

“Hello birdie…,”she cooed. Her fingers gently stroked the feathers on its back. It stopped flapping, but its breathing was laboured, as if it was struggling for air. Blood had risen from its eyes and nose. “It’s okay… I’m a friend.”

Gently, Liv scooped the wounded animal into her hands and cradled it, crouching over the grass in front of her home.

“Tio Diego! Varyyn! I need help!”

Of course, her uncles came running. They were never far away when tasked with keeping an eye on her; by now they were too well aware of her propensity for wandering into mischief not to be.

“Livita, are you okay--”

“Tio, she’s hurt. I think she’s gonna die. This great big bird got her and hit her against the window.”

Diego was pretty sure Liv had heard the talk about not touching wild animals, especially if they were injured and likely to lash out, but the reminder could wait. One look at the bird told him it was not long for this world.

“She is dying,” Varyyn confirmed, sadly. He exchanged a look with Diego. “It’s very sad… but we must make sure she doesn’t suffer.”

Liv sniffed. It wasn’t fair. This little bird used to hang around their home, foraging in the garden Mama Taylor had grown. They liked hearing her singing and calling to the other birds.

Varyyn squeezed Liv’s shoulder. “We’ll give her a minute to see if she fades away on her own. Do you trust us to do what’s kind for your friend?”

“Yeah… but I don’t want to leave her. I think she’s less scared with me holding her.”

Diego put an arm around Liv. “That’s good. You’re making her feel safe. Everyone deserves that. Just keep talking to her, okay? Hopefully, she’ll go peacefully.”

“It’s okay, birdie,” Liv whispered. “You’re not alone now. You can go to sleep.”

The bird gave a few more rattling breaths, then was still.

“Tio Diego… I think she’s died.”

“Yes, she’s gone, mija. You did amazing.”

Liv wept, held by her uncles.

“Death is always hard,” Varyyn said gently, “even when it’s kind. You always feel the hole where there was once a life.”

“S-she shouldn’t have died! She wasn’t hurting anyone… o-or doing anything wrong… she was just in that other bird’s way.”

“I know. It sad, and it’s not fair at all. But you made her last moments so much better; that counts for a lot. Everyone dies sometime… all you can hope for is that you go feeling loved, and you made that happen. It’s like… the circle of life. Nature can be really cruel, but that doesn’t take away the good bits. This little bird probably helped lots of plants spread their seeds.”

“Yes. Even if your friend’s life was short; it had great value.”

Liv raised her head, eyes wide. “Her body becomes the grass, right? Like Mufasa said? She’s got to at least get to be part of the circle of life if she can’t live anymore.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s pretty much how it works. If we leave her body somewhere nice where it won’t be bothered, she can feed the earth.”

“Okay. I wanna do that, then.”

A sombre procession carried the little broken body to the edge of the meadow. Liv laid the bird beneath a bush and draped her body with a fallen leaf. Then, she sat and looked over the resting place of her friend, tears filling her eyes. Varyyn was right; already there was a big empty hole. An echoey feeling right in her heart. Liv would miss hearing the bird’s chirruping as she played around the garden with her Mama Taylor. Hopefully, she’d remember that, not just this sad, sad feeling… of knowing she couldn’t protect an innocent, of seeing a life fade to nothing. Mama Estela told her that was important. That nothing should ever take away what was beautiful about something or someone once they’re gone.

She got to her feet, brushed off the dirt from her hands, then slipped one into Diego’s.

Bye, bye.

__________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Penny for yours?”

Estela sat down beneath an old familiar banana tree, settling beside Taylor, who appeared to be a million miles away.

“Oh… I was off in my own world, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, it looks that way. But you looked happy.”

“I am. Just being here has been a breath of fresh air. I feel like I’m me again, and it’s been a long time coming.”

Estela gave a contented hum and rested her head on her wife’s shoulder. “I’ve missed happy Taylor.”

“Well, thanks for sticking by and waiting out for her. Happy Taylor appreciates it.” Taylor chuckled at the sound of Estela’s quiet laughter. It was infectious. Hell, just Estela’s smile was like the embodiment of sunshine, it made coming out the other side of her dark cloud all the more glorious. “I think we’ve got our Livi back. Or I think we’re on the right track.”

“I know we are. It’s been a slow decline… I don’t think I even realised how miserable she’d gotten until I saw her snap back to how she should be.” Estela shrank in on herself. What excuse did she have? She had one job; to keep that kid happy. She didn’t have a war to contend with, or the struggle to get by between pay-checks, and she still couldn’t manage it. “I should have done better. I’ve been trying… I’ve been trying so hard… but somehow I couldn’t make everything better for her. Or you.”

“Don’t you even think about it! No.” Taylor pressed a fierce kiss to Estela’s temple. “We hit a few bumps in the road, that’s all. I wasn’t counting on an intense case of the baby blues… or what might actually have been full-on post-partum depression. The timing was unfortunate; really, it sucked. But you carried us through. When Liv got suspended and I couldn’t fucking stop crying because I just couldn’t handle it, you did handle it. You’re pretty great. Ask Raj; he gave me a magic pep talk earlier, I’m sure I could rope him into a repeat performance.”

“Thank you. You’re good at putting things in perspective, I’ll give you that. I know I set my bar too high. Just because Liv has her struggles, doesn’t mean I’ve failed… it means she’s a human being. And that’s probably what we were aiming for….”

Taylor giggled. “Godammit, my otherworldly influence has been foiled!”

“Actually, while we’ve got a chance to talk… I was speaking with Aleister earlier.”

“Yeah, I thought I saw you two hanging out.”

“Well, it seems like we’ve inspired him and Grace. Reggie’s not going back to that school next year either. It sounds like Livi’s gonna have a homeschooling buddy here on La Huerta!”

“Oh, wow! Ohmygod, that’s perfect! It’ll be just like old times; almost half the gang back home again. And… and the girls? Are they waiting a year, or are they going to teach them as well?”

“You’ll have to ask them, but it sounds like they’re going to get started with Erin and Immy. It’s going to be so good for Liv.”

“Yeah. Really that’s… that’s wonderful. God, I’m so happy right now!”

Estela found herself laughing. Her dork was back. She took Taylor’s hand. “And then, moving forward, Aleister says they’re considering a permanent move to San Trobida-- obviously under the assumption that we’ll be heading in that direction ourselves.”

“Oh my… holy crap!” Taylor flung her arms around Estela and hugged her tight. Something in her knew right away… yes, that’s right. That’s where we’re all meant to be. That gut feeling overshadowed any qualms or fears. “Tio Nicolas is really not gonna know what’s hit him, hey?”

“No; and I think it will be a dream come true.” Nestled in Taylor’s embrace, the scent of her mingling with the La Huerta sea air… it was, to Estela, the very essence of happiness. The excited yells of children at play had her look up over her lover’s arms; there was her Livita, piggybacking little Erin through the shallows while the terror, Immy, sent up wild splashes of water at their faces. It was time to try something new. For them.

“Aw, ‘Stel, just look at them!” Taylor snuggled in, a giddy grin on her face. She needed a change, and she had a feeling that for her, for Estela, for Liv… it would be a step towards their best lives. The year to come, and even beyond that, was to be a thrill ride of the most exhilarating kind, and they’d take it on hand in hand. She exhaled her fears and sadness, and let the wind carry them away. “I really love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Taylor. Forever.”

_____________________

Midnight over the Celestial. Or rather, two minutes to midnight. The countdown to Liv’s tenth birthday was on, and the kids-- save for the two little ones who’d long been in bed-- were just about hanging onto the non-grumpy side of overtired.

Ten years. How could that even be? Taylor could see the years in her face and Estela’s, but it still could have been yesterday that they were interrupting the festivities with the announcement that… ‘uh, I think baby might be coming’. What had followed was a period of some of the most intense hours either of them had lived through, a culmination of two lives’ dreams and emotions. And at the end of it, Taylor had found herself holding in her hands the second love of her life. Her sunshine. As children do, Liv grew. She’d tested her mothers, putting pressure on their weak points and making them stronger. She’d brought them closer, something Taylor wouldn’t have believed possible… but sharing their daughter’s journey was like watching a miracle unfold; to be touched and changed was inevitable.

Michelle joined Taylor, a knowing look on face as they watched Liv’s impatient jiggling.

“Crazy night ten years ago… my one and only midwife job.”

Taylor chuckled. “Crazy, crazy night. The best night of my life. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop thanking you for getting us through.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome. Ten years on, it’s stuck with me. It’s amazing to see the young woman she’s growing into. I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of my small part in putting her in the world.”

That change was coming so fast. The transition from that rosy-faced bundle of cuddles into a bright, opinionated adolescent was going to be underway in no time at all. Even now, looking at that giggling ten-year-old, it was hard to imagine.

I’m going to embrace every moment. Every one. You, me, your Mama Estela, we’re on this adventure together. And I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.

Estela put her arms around Taylor from behind, smiling into her wife’s shoulder.

“Is it my birthday yet?” Liv asked, bounding over to them.

“One minute, mija.” She tugged Liv into the hug and covered her forehead in kisses. “Come here!”

The cake was unveiled, and the small girls, Isla, Erin and Immy, erupted into ‘ooh’s, while Liv did a dance in her mothers’ arms. Her family around her sang, all together, celebrating her milestone, and she knew belonging. She looked up to her mothers and grinned, face aglow with candlelight.

The future was bright.

#endless summer #estela x taylor #playchoices

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skadventuretime · 4 years

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Shadow Crowns

Welcome to Chibi!Reverb 2020! This is my piece with the incredibly skilled @drowsystar, who not only came up with this bomb-ass idea but drew incredible things for it, too. I only wish I could have written you the proper 70k fic this idea deserves.

Rating: T

Warnings: Cursing

Read: AO3

Art: Link

“Another glorious day for his majesty the shut in.” Star yanks the curtains just a bit so that a sliver of late afternoon sunlight shines directly onto Kid’s closed eyes.

The bedroom is cavernous. Stone walls and floors hold a damp chill in the air that no number of thick carpets or tapestries can really dispel, and wrought iron bookshelves line all of the room’s circular walls. They’re filled to the brim with well-cared for leather tomes of all shapes and sizes, but mostly their slightly acidic scent makes Star want to sneeze.

“Ah yes, my faithful knight, ever at my beck and call,” comes the prince’s muffled voice.

The curtains snap close and return the room to its former pitch darkness. Star feels the slippery tendrils of the prince’s shadow magic slide over his wrists, his back, his throat, a not-so-subtle reminder that his life could just as easily be snuffed out.

It was kind of hot, not gonna lie. Too bad business and pleasure don’t mix.

“I will remind you not to disturb my slumber again,” the prince says. Star assumes he rolls over because that’s the sort of arch thing he’d say as a way to end the conversation, but he hears the muted sounds of feet hitting carpet instead. There are still no candles lit nor magelight summoned, but that’s because the crown prince is a master of shadow magic and likes to flaunt his perfect dark vision whenever he gets the chance.

“You shouldn’t be slumbering so late in the day anyway, your elevatedness.” Star inches back towards the curtains because if the prince thinks he gives up that easily, he’s got another thing coming. The sliver of daylight at the edge of the thick fabric cuts off abruptly, like the shadows were thick and solid. Whatever; his princeliness is probably just standing there to be stubborn. A little light will clear things up—

Sunlight stabs him in the eyes as the blinds fly back open. “How unusually perceptive of you,” says the prince, now across the room on an overstuffed low couch, a book cocked at an obnoxiously relaxed angle in one hand. He’s fully dressed and there’s not a trace of his night clothes; maybe that’s what all the dark was for. “What brings you here at this unusual hour? Isn’t it time for you to pester the palace guard about sparring matches again?”

Star waves his hand. “I got bored when nobody could disarm me. Hey, let’s go to the market today — there are supposed to be fireworks in the plaza after sunset.”

The prince looks up from his book with an eyebrow already bent at precisely ‘are you an idiot’ degrees. “The main plaza? In the center of the city?”

“Yup.”

“The one with traders from all over the world?”

“That’s the one.”

“With huge crowds and unlimited rooftops for an assassin to spy from?”

“For the crown prince, you sure are pretty stupid about your own kingdom, huh?”

The book closes with a crisp smack. “For a bodyguard, you sure are an idiot. Do you really think you could keep me safe from the literal hundreds of possible angles a potential assailant could reach us from? I know father hired you on your merits as a swordsman, but he clearly didn’t give your head close enough scrutiny.”

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fine. You haven’t left this room since I was assigned to you three months ago. You need a little sun, get some fresh air.”

The prince exhales and recrosses his legs, a tell Star has learned means his patience is running thin, but in all honesty he doesn’t seem to have much to start with. “Ah yes, the shadow mage needs sunlight. Truly your minutes of education trump the years I’ve spent honing my craft.” To punctuate his words, the room fluctuates between grey scale and daylight, but each flash of the former has contorted figures that get closer in Star’s peripheral vision.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a prodigy or whatever,” Star says, blinking away the grotesque afterimages. “But seriously, you really stay in here all day?”

“It’s for my safety,” the prince replies, his voice heavy with something Star can’t quite place. “I’ve told you this before. It’s why you’re here.”

Star walks over to the window and looks down at the city below. Neat stone buildings unfold like nesting dolls from the castle’s fortified walls, on lower ground than the castle proper. Another wall encircles the central part of the city on even lower ground, and in the distance straw covered roofs make up the final, outer ring. It’s on that level that the festival is taking place this evening, far from the imposing iron and tomb-like stone of the castle.

It’s also where, if everything goes to plan, the prince will die.

“Exactly, it’s why I’m here. You’ve been safe so far, no one’s tried to kill you at all since I’ve been around!”

“I never leave this wing of the castle.”

“Which is why you need this. Come on, they’re going to have all kinds of great food and entertainment and—“ Star lowers his voice, “I heard that the work of that brainiac scholar you’re always crying about will be sold there.”

The prince stands up abruptly. “Eibon’s work will be there?”

“Yeah, that guy. Heard it from some of the organizers themselves at the pub last night.”

He hadn’t, really. Star just knows that the prince will do anything to get his hands on work by the contemporary scholar Eibon, something to do with shadow and light magic protection. It’s all above his attention span and pay grade.

Pain seizes his chest and a snarled HURRY UP BRAT rings in his ears for a split second. Though he knows it’s invisible, Star can feel the rune etched into his soul. The only reason he’s free at all, alive even, is because his loving father saw fit to give him one last chance to redeem himself in his family’s eyes. But like any dog, Star has to be kept on a leash, and over the last few weeks these intermittent pain reminders have gotten more common. Papa dear must be getting impatient despite the regular correspondence.

Star tunes back into the prince giving him a critical look. “Sorry, indigestion. You know me and those firecracker skewers.”

The prince curls his lip. “Naturally. All right, if there’s a chance to procure more of Eibon’s writings, then there’s nothing else to be said. Meet me here in one hour with everything you need to be stealthy but effective in a fight. I’ll weave a shadow disguise of course, but the ones I’m worried about will be able to see through it. Am I clear?”

“As a mountain spring,” Star says. He leaves before the prince can add any other fussy demands to the list and walks along the stark stone hallway towards his chambers on the other side of the prince’s.

Well, he finally did it. It’s taken months to get to this point, but tonight’s his first real shot at completing the mission and being freed from his father’s grip. It took him weeks of painstaking deception to lie his way into the right circles to get a pulse of the city’s underground, but it was worth it to become part of the whisper network of assassins. There will be a group of shadow mage trained assassins at and around the market tonight, and he already has an ironclad alibi lined up.

It should be a happy occasion, but instead he feels antsy, like he didn’t do enough pushups before his morning run. Whatever, it’s probably excitement, even though excitement doesn’t usually leave him with a sense of dread.

Star splashes some water on his face from the shallow bowl next to the bath for just that use, and spends the next hour sharpening and cleaning his sword. And daggers. And throwing stars. Sharp edges are a man’s best friend, after all.

The sun is just dipping below the horizon when the two of them set out. Because the prince is technically not allowed to leave the castle, Star has to play lookout while the prince weaves a very complicated piece of shadow magic that allows them to pass the various entry guards without detection.

The magic feels cool and slippery on him, like he’s veiled in silk. It’s strangely intimate, too, with echoes of the prince’s soul woven through. Magic is like a sixth sense, an extra way of knowing, and Star quite frankly doesn’t want to know anything else about the man whose assassination he’s recently planned. That his magic tastes like packed snow, for example, or makes Star’s own shadow magic crackle at his fingertips eager to be unleashed.

“Stop thinking so much, it’s unbecoming,” the prince whispers from a pace behind Star. Star makes a rude gesture over his shoulder and walks a little faster; whatever else this magic does, it’s a little too close for comfort.

They have passed the most heavily staffed guard towers and just slipped past the mid-tier gate into the lower circle. The crowds are heavier here and the buildings more tightly packed, leaving plenty of narrow alleys for them to slip into should they decide they’re ready to become visible again.

“Hey, do you know where you’re going?” whispers the prince.

Something in his tone makes Star turn around. The prince’s eyes are wide and glittering with the reflected light from the many torches lining the street. He’s looking with such rapt attention that it’s almost like--

“Wait, you’ve been here before, right? Like before there was a bounty on your head?”

The prince blinks and it’s like a door closes. “No, of course not. I wasn’t allowed out of the castle proper. I was just making sure you knew because you have the attention span of a small rodent and I didn’t want us straying far from the event. Remember, we’re going in, getting some scrolls, and coming out.”

“Yes, your supreme nitpickyness.”

Star leads them down an alley a few blocks further in so the prince can undo his magic. They’re both dressed modestly in simple cotton cloaks so they don’t attract attention, and the prince has modified his features enough to look like a bad caricature of himself. Anyone without the ability to detect shadow magic will be none the wiser.

Most of the crowd is gathered near a huge bonfire a few streets down at one of the openings to the market square, where scores of merchants and stalls are lined up. Star can hear faint music of at least three different varieties playing, and the smell of frying fat and savory spices hangs heavy in the air. A quick scan of the buildings around the square doesn’t reveal much, but his night vision is already ruined by the bonfire and a trained assassin wouldn’t be so easy to spot, anyway.

Not that it matters, he reminds himself. The whole point is for the prince to bite it.

“So where is the scholar with Eibon’s writings?” The prince has his cowl up despite the illusions he wove and looks distinctly out of place.

“Beats me, these sorts of things are never very organized. We’ll just have to find it!”

The prince wrinkles his nose. “Fine. But let’s be efficient. We should start from the west and comb east, with the bonfire being the center point.”

“Ugh, do you ever relax? This is a festival, lighten up, go with the flow, have some fried food.”

“I have never once in my life ‘gone with the flow.’”

“And it shows.”

The prince throws his hands up. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Lead on, I cannot wait to see what unnecessary trials we must endure and how much ground we recross with your barbaric method.”

Star grins. “Now we’re talkin’!”

He leads the prince past the bonfire and into the market proper. The music is louder here, and the merchants manning the closest stalls begin to call out to them about the superiority of their wares.

“Now we begin looking for your fancy ink on paper.”

Star knows the exact writings aren’t here, of course, but it’s strangely fun to lead the prince around like this. He’s like a baby goat, all leg and headbutts, but also kinda cute.

“Come with me this way,” the prince says imperiously. A booth with a giant mallet and a man asking to see who is strong enough to ring the bell has caught Star’s eye though, so he says, “One sec, let me just do this real quick.” He tosses a coin to the man, rolls his shoulders, and grabs the mallet.

The bell makes a satisfying ding when the slider hits it. “That’s right, I’m amazing. Hey pri--er, hey Kid, did you see that?” Star looks around for the person he’s ostensibly body-guarding to no avail. “Hey, where are you?”

He heads back down the closest stall walkway and scans the crowd -- nothing again. He does the same for the other two closest walkways and feels something like panic burning in his chest. Did the assassins get him already? Is his job over? Why does he hate the thought of that?

“There you are, you oaf,” calls a familiar voice from behind him. Relief floods his system; the prince is safe.

“Where did you go?” Star says, rounding on him. “You’re supposed to stay by me for protection, remember?”

“You’re not doing a very good job if you can’t even keep track of your charge,” the prince replies archly. “Here.” He extends a skewer of steaming, dripping meat that smells faintly of chilies.

“Uh.” Star accepts it and looks from it to the prince and back again. “You went and got…?”

“Firecracker skewers. Didn’t you say you like them? Unlike you, I remember what people tell me.”

Oh. Oh no. The baby goat brought him meat on a stick. This wasn’t in the assassination manual. “Yeah, I uh, I do. Very tasty.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the prince replies and holds up a skewer of his own.

“Wait, that might be a bit--”

The prince removes the top chunk of meat with a neat bite. He chews for a moment, swallows, and then starts coughing. “Pain--water--why do you like this?”

Star dashes over to the nearest food stall and gets a huge pocket of fried dough. “Here, take a bite of this, it might help.”

The prince pulls Star’s hand closer and takes a bite without grabbing the dough for himself. “Why would you subject yourself to this?” he gasps after a few more bites of fried dough. “I mean, I suppose the after burn is somewhat pleasant, and the flavor is acceptable once you can taste again, but really, there are more elegant ways to season meat.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not up to your impeccable palette. Come on, we got scrolls to find.”

Star leads them around the western half of the market, laughing at the prince’s obvious fascination with it all. They try a few more food items and look at a few more booths before the hairs on the back of Star’s neck begin to stand up. He might not have done the kinds of hardcore training he was subjected to growing up recently, but his instincts are still on par. They’re definitely being tracked; looks like the fun is over.

“Hey, let’s look at the east side of the market,” Star says, his chest getting tighter. The east side has a few more quiet alleys the prince could be grabbed in. Better to get this over with quickly.

“Okay,” the prince says, and that simple word almost stops Star dead in his tracks. They’re having a civil conversation! The prince listened to him! The doubt in his gut twists his insides up.

They lightly browse a few stalls on the other side while Star becomes more and more conflicted. The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t want to kill the prince after all, consequences be damned. But what about his father? What about this thrice-damned soul window his father inflicted on him? If he can’t deal with that, he won’t be able to hide his treachery for very long anyway.

Any further deliberation is cut off by a cry of, “Scrolls! Scrolls! Get your scrolls here!”

The prince perks up and heads over immediately, making Star have to almost jog to keep up. The merchant is at the edge of the square, half wreathed in shadow, and -- oh shit, they’re walking right into an ambush aren’t they.

“You said you had some scrolls?” the prince says.

The merchant gives him an oily smile and says, “Yes, right this way, sir.” He gestures to a chest at the opening of an alley.

“I don’t think we should--” A hand comes around Star’s mouth and cuts him off. He reflexively bites down and slams his elbow back, freeing himself while his would-be captor grunts in pain. “Kid, look out!”

The prince jerks around just in time to see another man emerging from the alley behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he binds the man in coils of shadow and tries to jump away from the merchant, who has now revealed a wicked dagger.

“Don’t worry, this will all be over soon,” he croons before lunging at the prince.

Another coil of shadow stops the attack and it looks like the prince is in the process of doing something more complicated when his entire body goes rigid and the merchant snaps free.

“Another shadow mage,” gasps the prince. Star knows he could leave right now, escape himself and leave the prince to be murdered, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. It was the damn meat, he tells himself.

“I’m on it,” Star says, reaching in and down into his own shadow magic. Dark flames wreathe his blade from hilt to tip, blowing in a wind not from this plane. He focuses and sees the thin threads holding the prince in place. But before he can act on it, a third mage appears and begins preparing something nasty.

“Do something,” wheezes the prince, and if that isn’t a challenge, Star doesn’t know what is. He dives into a roll to dodge a thrown dagger and cut the first thread imprisoning the prince. This puts him in range to kick the merchant in the chest and send him flying.

“Chill out princess, I got this,” Star says with the cockiest grin he can muster. He dials up the intensity of his shadow flames and sends them in an arc to push back the two mages in the alley, and on the end of that stroke cuts the remaining threads binding the prince. “You good now, or do you still need me to do literally everything for you?”

There’s that glare that can boil ice. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.” The prince’s eyes seem to get blacker and the alleyway flickers in and out of grey scale.

“No way, you’re not getting all the glory for this one.” Star leaps back in to punch one of the mages across the chin before the prince’s terror magic makes the others run screaming away from them.

“Well, that could have gone better,” the prince says. He sounds shaken, even though he doesn’t look like he has any big injuries.

“Yeah, I think it’s time we got back to the castle. Had enough fun for a week or so.”

“Remind me never to listen to your idea of fun ever again.”

“You say that now, your royal meat-on-a-stick-ness.”

The prince rolls his eyes and begins to reweave the invisibility illusion. “Shut up and lead us home.”

“See now you’re talking sense, because I won’t lead us into an obvious trap.”

As they bicker on the way back to the castle, mostly in whispers and unconscious shadow magic pulses, Star’s worries about what will happen to him fade. He’s never been one for thinking too far into the future; for now, he’s got a grumpy prince and a belly full of meat, and there will be plenty of time for the rest. Later. Much, much later.

#soul eater #deathstar #reverb 2020 #madi tries words #they're idiots and i love them

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gukyi · 6 years

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a heart full of love | myg

summary: people say that actors are the most dramatic people in the world but those people haven't met a certain min yoongi.

{enemies to lovers!au, high school!au, actor!au}

pairing: yoongi x female reader word count: 10k genre: fluff, angst so light a feather weighs more warnings: bad references to les miserables and memes, in that order. yoongi being outrageous. lots of caps lock. unrealistic portrayals of the arts. musical directors that are way too chill to be high school teachers. possible megaphone misuse. a/n: how long have i put off this fic? too long, honestly. but here it is, finally!! i wrote the majority of this between the hours of 10pm and 5am. forgive my mistakes. happy birthday to one of my closest irl friends, who literally requested i write this in april. i’m so sorry. it’s finally here. also happy birthday, but i said this already.

If you lived in some Black Mirror-esque alternate universe where every single human being lived their life and interacted with others as though they were merely profiles on a social media website, the first thing you would do is use the Block feature in your everyday life. And you would use it on none other than Min Yoongi.

It’s a massive shame that there’s no real life unfollow, blocked, reported feature because Min Yoongi, Unnecessary Nuisance Extraordinaire, is quite deserving of all three. Especially considering there is no occurrence in your life more unfortunate than the fact that Min Yoongi just had to waltz into the drama club interest meeting in freshman year, sit his ass down at one of the desks, and sign his name in ugly penmanship under the words Interested in Stage Crew? written in Comic Sans.

You didn’t know it yet, no, not when you barely knew his name and could barely see him under the massive black hoodie he was wearing, but Min Yoongi wrote his name down under the Stage Crew interest line and you wrote yours down under Acting interest line and it was like you signed off your soul. Like you said “I do” to the personification of the word irritation, committed yourself to a thorn in your side for the next four years. A thorn that seems to have a particular penchant for the dramatic arts. It’s a shame that Min Yoongi isn’t interested in acting, but then again, you think that if you had to stand on a stage next to him, there’s no telling what could happen.

🅱️rama 🅱️lub 🅱️officers

you (12:46PM): are you guys good for the meeting this afternoon? you (12:46PM): in the choir room

namjoon (12:48PM): I still don’t have dues from half of the drama club

you (12:50PM): threaten them

namjoon (12:51PM): With what?

you (12:52PM): idk you (12:52PM): the wrath of kim namjoon ig

seokjin (12:54PM): i wouldn’t exactly call the wrath of kim namjoon particularly threatening

you (12:55PM): no one asked u seokjin you (12:55PM): you’re in love with him

seokjin (1:01PM): love is a great and wonderful thing y/n

min (1:03PM): yeah y/n ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you (1:05PM): do not start with me min

min (1:05PM): i just want to love you y/n

you (1:06PM): fuck off you (1:07PM): i didn’t ask

namjoon: (1:07PM): Can you not make declarations of love in the drama officers group chat?

you (1:08PM): i am not the one making the love declarations here

min (1:09PM): <3

you (1:10PM): i hate you

seokjin (1:34PM): I will forever be shocked that Park and Bae let the two of you be officers in the same club

When the bell rings you dash out of your last class of the day, making a beeline for the choir room so you can get there before the rush of the other drama students. It’s very unprofessional for the President of the drama club to be late to her own meeting. You quickly weave your way through the hordes of other students and arrive at your destination, earlier that mostly everyone else.

Mostly.

Min Yoongi is sitting at the shitty piano right by the door, the one that’s always out of tune no matter what your poor choir director does to try and fix it, playing a distant melody of a tune you vaguely know but cannot name. It would probably be nice if it weren’t for the fact that the piano itself sounds terrible and the fact that it is Min Yoongi who is pressing those keys.

He seems to perk up when he notices you’re here, just because he thrives off of your displeasure as any guy as dramatic and obnoxious as he is would. He begins to play the melody more forcefully, passionate and strong, like he’s trying to tell you something. The only thing is that you already know what he’s going to say.

“It’s called Liebestraume,” Yoongi says aloud as he continues to play, knowing that your eyes are trained on him.

“And?” You prompt.

“It means love dream,” he begins to explain, making you roll your eyes as you start heading over to the chalkboard obscured from your vision at the present moment. Though beautiful, you don’t want to hear any more of Min Yoongi playing it on that poor, mildly broken piano. It sounds off and with his fingers on the keys it makes you feel even more aggravated than you already are when you’re in his presence. Which, during drama season, is always.

As you round the corner in this L-shape of a choir room, you are greeted with the sight of a perfectly Not Blank chalkboard. In fact, there’s this horrific scrawl in all capital letters on it. It reads:

Y/N,

WILL YOU GO OUT ON A DATE WITH ME? CHECK ☐ YES ☐ NO

— MIN YOONGI

You turn around to glare at a wonderfully guilty-looking Min Yoongi, who’s smiling proudly at the monstrosity he’s written on the board. He’s always fucking like this, and it’s ridiculous and out-of-hand but you are powerless to stop it. The worst part is that he’s written your name and his so there’s no confusion whatsoever as to who this message is addressed to and who it’s from. Such blatant call-outage makes your cheeks heat up, both in mortification and fury.

“Are you serious, Min?” You ask, speechless. The rest of the drama club trickles in, including your fellow officers, Seokjin and Namjoon, and each person gets a nice good look at the chalkboard as they sit down in the choir chairs. By the time the room is half-filled, most people are looking at you, waiting for your response. You swear you can see Taehyung over by the director’s desk with his phone out. He’s definitely recording this whole thing to put on his Snapchat, because he’s one of those people that has ten minute Snapchat stories like the heathen he is.

“When am I not, Y/N?” Yoongi asks in response, cruising on up to where Namjoon and Seokjin stand, waiting for the meeting to begin. He takes his sweet time, relishing in the attention he’s receiving and the press he’s focusing on you. Your misery seems to fuel him.

Pretty soon all of the officers are standing up at the front of the room, ready to start the meeting and cover all of the bases before sending everyone home for the afternoon. Well, all of them besides you. You’re still staring, flabbergasted, at the message written on the chalkboard.

“Well?” Seokjin prompts, looking like he’s about to keel over with laughter. Him and Namjoon seem to be enjoying themselves quite a lot up there. “Aren’t you going to respond?”

The ever-growing drama club crowd laughs, looking at you expectantly. Half of them probably think you’re going to check YES and the world will end because it will be the first time you have ever accepted a date request from Min Yoongi, and the other half probably think you’re going to brutally circle NO before moving on with the meeting entirely. Taehyung’s filming you no matter what happens.

You reach down for the eraser on the ledge at the bottom of the chalkboard, and wipe the whole damn message away, word by word, line by line, until all that’s left is:

☐ NO

and that’s that. Not the best way to turn him down—you’ve definitely done better—but good enough for now and certainly good enough for Taehyung, who is absolutely laughing his entire head off in that back corner. When you turn back to the front of the room where the rest of the drama club officers await you, Yoongi’s pouting, puppy dog eyes on full display, pretending to be heartbroken at your rejection.

“Oh, stuff it, Min,” you chide, marching over to stand in between Seokjin and Yoongi as you clap your hands to begin the meeting.

It goes fairly well. Yoongi gives his instructions to his neck of the woods: the stage crew kids gathered in the top right corner of the seats, all of whom are on their phones and not paying attention to anything that the rest of the officers are saying. Quite frankly, you’re not even sure if they’re listening to Yoongi either. He’s their only representation in the republic known as the Drama Club Officers and they’re barely giving him even a margin of their attention. Namjoon manages to get dues from a couple more people. Seokjin is loud and reckless and everybody loves him, as per usual. You manage the whole thing, switching slides and relaying information from the musical directors.

When the meeting is over, Taehyung hangs back with the officers, partly because he’s your best friend and partly because he’s also your ride. Namjoon records the names of all of the students who gave him money and Seokjin waits around because they always leave school together.

Yoongi grabs his stuff and pulls on his black beanie, letting the thick wool cover his platinum bangs, looking longingly at the ☐ NO still left on the chalkboard. He stuffs his headphones into his ears and begins to head out, but not before shouting, “Don’t forget about me, Y/N!”

You wouldn’t be able to even if you tried.

Seokjin and Namjoon head out soon after, leaving you and Taehyung alone in the choir room as you pull on your jackets and adjust your backpacks. Taehyung’s keys jingle on the lanyard he’s got wrapped around his hand.

“I’d say that was a pretty successful meeting, wouldn’t you?” He asks on the way out, headed towards the exit that leads to the parking lot where his busted old car waits.

“Other than the Yoongi fiasco in the beginning, yeah, I think it went alright,” you say, only the slightest bit (more like a medium amount) bitter. Min Yoongi always has to be so… Yoongi.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I know you hate his guts, Y/N, but seriously. You’re playing Eponine in Les Miserables and yet when a love confession comes knocking on your door, you turn the lights off.”

“He doesn’t really mean it,” you insist like it’s obvious, because it is. No way in hell does Yoongi actually want to go out with you. He exists to torture you, nothing more, nothing less.

Your best friend sighs. His car beeps as he unlocks it. Some days you wonder what your life would be like if you had never met Min Yoongi, but then you remember that not even the kindest goddess could have prevented the firestorm known as your relationship.

You’re leaning against the stage, rehearsing your lines in your head when you hear the heavy stage door opening then slamming shut, heavy footsteps ringing out throughout the theater.

There’s just enough time to spot Taehyung marching in, proud as ever, jumping from the stage ledge to the carpeted pit below, and shouting, “Guess who just failed his calc test!”

Nobody applauds. In fact, nobody seems to take any note of him besides you and the director, who is shaking his head as he writes something down on his clipboard. But you have to take notice of him because he’s your best friend.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” you chide as he strides up to you. You don’t need to move your eyes from your script to know that he’s smiling. He reaches into his bag to show you the proof—a fucking satchel that cost him an arm and a leg at Urban Outfitters because he is a piece of shameless hipster trash and extremely proud of it—pulling out a crumpled looking thing stapled together in the top left corner. On the front, right next to where Taehyung’s scribbled his name (it looks like a goose has written it), a bright red 36/100.

“Look at her, Y/N,” Taehyung says, shoving the thing in your face. You fumble with it, trying to balance it between your fingers along with your thick (with two C’s) script. You leaf through it. There’s one page where Taehyung just drew a game of hangman. He didn’t even try to write anything down. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“What were you trying to spell out?” You ask, showing him the hangman page.

“I suck at calc.”

“You weren’t even gonna like, beg for an A?”

Taehyung looks only a little affronted. “I may be shameless but I’m not that shameless. At least I have the dignity to know when even I can’t schmooze my way to a good grade like Cher from Clueless. I just don’t have that kind of skill, Y/N! Or a rotating closet! My life is awful.”

“You know what, I think the role of Marius will be a good reality check for you. It’ll teach you to be humble. And to cherish what you already have. And to sing your feelings away.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I do that regularly.” He’s not wrong. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve found him singing a Billboard Top 50 song as a form of self-expression to achieve some sort of fake deep catharsis. He once broke out into a ballad version of Justin Bieber’s Never Say Never after missing a question while you were playing Kahoot in chemistry two years ago.

“So what do you have in calc now?”

“A 69.7%,” Taehyung declares like it’s an achievement.

“You scammed your way to a C? How?” You ask in shock. You can’t believe that Taehyung somehow managed to score enough points for him to not be failing that class. You’ve seen his test scores. His grades. He has used his un-handed-in calculus homework as a tissue before.

“My charm,” Taehyung boasts, making you cough up a laugh. At your skepticism, he adds, “and this extra credit review game we did.”

“You’re unbearable,” you tell him in disbelief, your voice still fond. You know that Taehyung doesn’t really want much to do with math, not when he happens to have a penchant for the arts. He’s just selectively studious.

Taehyung smiles to himself as he pulls out his own script, the edges of the folder bent and wrinkled and torn from being stuffed into and roughly pulled out of his satchel. “Bet my team members thought that too. Can’t say they were pleased with being paired up with me.”

“Who were you with?”

“Joy, Hana, and a certain guy whose name rhymes with Sin Boongi.”

“Very funny,” you deadpan.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure who that is either.”

His sarcasm makes you roll your eyes. It’s not so much that you can’t stand the mention of Yoongi’s name as it is you can’t stand him existing, specifically near where you exist. If living on Mars were possible and feasible and if you were as wealthy and scandalous as Elon Musk, then you would either send Min Yoongi on the first ship to the red planet or jump on yourself.

Bitterly, you realize that even if a whole fucking planet separated the two of you, he’d still probably find some way to bother you.

“I mean, Joy and Hana probably greatly dislike me for mooching off of their genuine hard work but I know for a fact that I am not the primary target of Yoongi’s attention,” Taehyung tells you pointedly, crossing his arms in front of you as he gazes at you. You roll your eyes, roughly handing back his crumpled test and going back to your lines. You don’t need a reminder as to how much of a pain in every muscle in your body Yoongi is.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not like I chose for this to happen.”

“Ah, yes, it’s not your fault that Min Yoongi has been trying to confess his undying love for you since freshman year and you’ve done nothing but brutally reject him each time.”

This is the part in the story where you’re supposed to say that it wasn’t always like this. You’re supposed to reminisce about some time where you and Yoongi were childhood friends, neighbors, lovers who kissed each other on the kindergarten playground. A montage of your past together is supposed to play and make everyone in the audience watching the movie coo at how close the two of you used to be. And you’re supposed to be narrating the story of your life before the music takes a dark turn and gets all dramatic and you reveal this friendship-crushing event that destroyed your relationship and is meant to make the audience feel sympathetic towards you because you’ve painted yourself as the poor, helpless victim while Yoongi is the evil and malicious person out for your blood.

The truth is is that Yoongi isn’t out for your blood. He’s just out for your mild embarrassment, the kind that makes blood rush to your cheeks and a little frown to etch itself onto your face but the same kind that makes you realize that there could be worse things he does to you. That if this is the price to pay, you’ll take it.

The truth is is that it was always sort of like this.

“Well, how else am I supposed to reply? It’s not like Yoongi means anything by it,” you huff out.

“Gossiping about me, are we now, Y/N?”

You whip your head around to find—speak of the Devil and he shall appear—Yoongi marching across stage with a bucket of nails in his hand for the set construction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was there for him to toss at you. He’s wearing paint-stained clothing, black covered in red and green and brown and white, a beanie sitting atop his bleach blonde hair. He looks so… infuriatingly good.

“Only about you,” you say sharply. Min Yoongi is your one and only nemesis in the entire drama club. Not even that kid Jungkook, who, despite his sheer size, is about as clumsy as a butterfly with a broken wing. He has, multiple times, run into you because he is too busy looking in the opposite direction when in motion. You don’t really blame him, though. He’s the only one who seems to know anything about filming things, which means that the directors put him in charge of anything to do with a camera. Which is a lot.

“I’m honored,” Yoongi tells you, one hand over his heart. He places the bucket down by the wooden planks on stage, a drill already waiting on top of them. “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

“Min Yoongi, what are you planning now!” You shout, but he’s already beginning to drill, the noise of the drill bit pressing into the wood overwhelming your cries.

They’re the only words he speaks to you for the entire afternoon, leaving you fuming in place once more. Taehyung does absolutely nothing to help besides suggesting that you should put one of the frogs that the freshman biology kids have to dissect into his backpack, a plan that would perhaps work if it weren’t for the fact that it is equal parts hilarious and disgusting. Go big or go home, and you would rather sleep.

The only difference between before and now is that then Yoongi was a scrawny kid who wore all black and played basketball in the gymnasium alone and now he is, apparently, none of those things. Somewhere along the line Yoongi turned from a freshman into a senior and you don’t really know how you feel about it because the boy you are decidedly mortal enemies with is not supposed to look that good. That’s the problem here.

Of course, you could never voice this concern to anybody. Not even Taehyung, because Lord knows you would never hear the end of it from him. Taehyung’s wonderful, but he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, and when Taehyung finds out something the entire drama department will soon follow.

“People’s Song, folks!” One of the directors calls. “Everyone into the choir room!”

On your way over there, you lock eyes with Min Yoongi. He grins.

Ugh.

“Seokjin, are you even listening to me?” The choir director asks with a pointed look on his face, hands on his hips. Seokjin is too busy eating one of those snack packs of Nutella and breadsticks, turning around like a deer caught in the headlights, cheeks puffy and lips chocolate-y. Where did that come from? Is he even allowed to be eating in here?

“Vaguely,” he responds, making the director roll his eyes. “Can’t hear you over the sound of me quenching my hunger.”

All of the students in the room laugh over the sound of Seokjin’s teeth crunching down onto the snack.

Namjoon, with a tie around his forehead for some unknown reason (you know for a fact that the kids in charge of costumes did not put him up to this), strolls up to his boyfriend, disregarding the seating arrangement entirely to snatch a breadstick from the container. Seokjin takes notice of the accessory tied around his head and tugs on it slightly, making everyone close their eyes to shield them gross display of public affection.

The director sighs, paging back a bit in the score before hitting the pitch on his piano. “We’re starting at the top.”

He begins to play, the thick sound of the piano echoing throughout the room from the dinky speakers behind his desk. Seokjin clears his throat, coughing a little before starting.

“One day more,” he sings. “Another day, another destiny…”

Namjoon rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as he sings, peering down at his lines every now and then just to see when his entrance is coming up.

“One day more,” Seokjin ends his phrase and the director continues to play, waiting for Taehyung to enter.

The only thing is that Taehyung’s been absent from school for the past two days after coming down with strep throat. You have no idea where he contracted that from, especially considering you’ve gotten strep every year since you were eleven.

“Marius?” The director stops on a clunky note. “Where is he?”

“He’s sick,” you inform him. “Strep.”

“Fine,” the director sighs, rubbing his temples. He definitely doesn’t get paid enough. “Anyone willing to fill in? You don’t have to be any good, you just need to sing.”

No one seems to be willing to take Taehyung’s part. Not that you blame them, because Marius has a fairly decent range and everyone in high school cares too much about their reputation to be willing to sacrifice their own pride for the greater good.

Well, everyone except one person.

“I will,” Yoongi volunteers from out of nowhere. You furrow your brows in disbelief as you watch him stroll over to the front of the choir room. Where the hell did he come from? Has he been here the whole time? Yoongi has almost no business being in the choir room during a practice for one of the songs when he is 1) not a choir student and 2) in stage crew. It’s like he just manifested from the dust particles floating around.

“Alright, fine,” the choir director says gruffly. “Need a script?”

“No, it’s alright,” Yoongi says, cruising over and taking the seat right next to your own. He smiles casually at you, like it’s no big deal that he just volunteered to take Taehyung’s part for this one particular song.

“What the hell are you doing,” you mutter to him.

“Using my resources,” he hisses back.

“Okay, we’re starting from the beginning again. Seokjin?”

Seokjin looks up at the call of his name with half of a baby carrot sticking out of his mouth. There’s a Ziploc bag full of them sitting on Namjoon’s lap. He chews the offending vegetable like a rabbit, quickly and furiously, before swallowing down what’s left and clearing his throat once more.

He gets through his verse with relative ease and for a brief second you think this might actually just be a normal fucking rehearsal when—

“I did not live until today,” Yoongi sings in his rough voice, gravelly yet smooth all at once. It shocks you a little bit, how decent of a singer he is. He really does have a calling for the dramatics. “How can I live when we are parted?” You can feel his gaze on your figure, even if he is glancing back and forth at the lyrics he’s pulled up on his phone. He’s waiting to see how you’ll react.

“One day more,” Seokjin continues, but you can see the way his eyes are trained on the two of you. He’s trying to be subtle about it.

“Tomorrow you’ll be worlds away, and yet with you, my world has started,” Yoongi continues, even as Eunbi—Cosette—joins in from across the room. She doesn’t seem to care that Taehyung’s not here and that Yoongi’s taken his place. You don’t really blame her—she thinks that Taehyung is the baboon of the music department and quite frankly, her thoughts are not at all misled.

“One day more, all on my own,” you begin to sing softly, barely audible over the sound of the piano keys clunking throughout the room. You don’t really know if you have the guts to look up at Yoongi.

“Will we ever meet again?” He sings, except his words aren’t directed at Cosette.

“One more day with him not caring,” the lyrics come naturally to you but the feeling of everyone watching you will always be foreign, even if you were born to be a performer. Born to be on stage.

This is different than being on stage.

“I was born to be with you,” Yoongi declares more than he sings, reaching his arm out towards you. Slowly, you begin to look up at Yoongi, who looks just about as expressive as Taehyung is whenever he serenades the goldfish in his room. He’s got his arms outstretched towards you and is singing like his life depends on it, kind of because you have the slightest feeling that you’re about to end it when you’re done with this song.

“What a life I might have known,” you sing through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at Yoongi. He is, to put it simply, wholly undeterred. This is supposed to be a romantic and wistful and hopeful tune and because of him, the entire damn song has gotten flipped—turned upside down. Marius isn’t even the one in love with Eponine. That’s the whole reason her character exists. Because he doesn’t love her.

Not that you’re implying that Yoongi feels any sort of romantic affection towards you. Impossible. There are plenty of reasons that Yoongi does shit like this but you doubt any of them are “because he loves you.”

“And I swear I will be true,” Yoongi promises, belts out with more emotion than you think you’ve ever seen him. This feels like it’s about to turn into a High School Musical scene from how dramatic Yoongi’s being.

“But he never saw me there.” It’s turned into a staring contest between you and him. Yoongi’s grinning wildly as he continues, making the tense press of your lips grow even tighter.

“One more day before the storm,” Namjoon jumps in, and it seems that he’s following Yoongi’s preferred plan of attack which is to sing like it is the last time he will ever sing. He jumps up like he’s literally part of the June Revolution, his fists curled in a power stance.

Yoongi joins in, leaping to his feet. Since when is Namjoon the instigator? “Do I follow where she goes?”

“At the barricades of freedom,” Namjoon follows, raising his arm in solidarity to whatever cause he stands for. Seokjin stands up as well, adjusting the tie around his boyfriend’s forehead as he does.

“Shall I join my brothers there?”

“When our ranks begin to form?”

“Do I stay, and do I dare?”

“Will you take your place with me?”

There comes a point where suddenly you are the only one who is still sitting in your chair, your feet rooted firmly to the ground in protest. Everyone around you is beginning to belt out the lyrics, even if it isn’t their part. You hate drama kids. Oh goodness, you hate them.

You think you might actually make it through this whole rehearsal without dying of embarrassment, but then Yoongi reaches down where he stands next to you and pulls you to your feet, making you gasp slightly at the tug. He’s gotten quite strong. It must be all of the carrying he does during stage crew.

“The time is now, the day is here!” Everyone shouts rather than sings. Yoongi looks right into your eyes as he says the lyrics and you wonder if he can see the disdain lacing your irises. If this is his attempt at another confession, it’s exceedingly poor.

“One day more!” Seokjin practically yodels before everyone dissolves into a fit of laughter. Even the choir director has a smile on his face.

“Won’t you love me, Y/N?” Yoongi asks you, closing his eyes dramatically as he opens his arms.

You look at him in disbelief. You hope he can’t see the way the fondness bleeds into your expression. “In your dreams, Min.”

It ends there.

you (7:03PM): how dare you

yeontan’s daddy (7:03PM): what did i do

you (7:04PM): be sick

yeontan’s daddy (7:04PM): well excuse me for getting strep from a certain someone

you (7:04PM): idk what ur talking about ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

yeontan’s daddy (7:05PM): Okay™ yeontan’s daddy (7:05PM): what happened today yeontan’s daddy (7:05PM): did i miss something

you (7:05PM): yoongi

yeontan’s daddy (7:06PM): omg noooooo i missed it!! yeontan’s daddy (7:06PM): i wonder if jk filmed it

you (7:06PM): im distressed and the only thing you can think about is if jungkook filmed it???????

yeontan’s daddy (7:07PM): are you questioning my priorities

you (7:07PM): i hate you

yeontan’s daddy (7:08PM): just like you hate yoongi

you (7:06PM): you are the worst best friend i have ever had

yeontan’s daddy (7:08PM): what did he do this time

you (7:09PM): he SANG TO ME you (7:09PM): SANG!! WITH HIS VOICE !!! you (7:09PM): HIS LIPS MOVED AND MADE NOISE

yeontan’s daddy (7:10PM): that is typically how people sing

you (7:10PM): HE SANG !!! IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED !!!!! I DON’T THINK SO !!!!!

yeontan’s daddy (7:10PM): i didn’t know yoongi sang

you (7:10PM): HE DOESN’T

yeontan’s daddy (7:10PM): you seem very emotional about this

you (7:10PM): IM ANGRY

yeontan’s daddy (7:11PM): is he at least a decent singer

you (7:11PM): YES

yeontan’s daddy (7:11PM): wow you’re mad

you (7:11PM): IM RAGING!!!!!

yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): what did he sing? imo he definitely should have serenaded you with take on me

you (7:12PM): HE SANG YOUR FUCKING PART

yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): mine????

you (7:12PM): BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T HERE TODAY

yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): I DON’T HAVE A VOICE yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): MY DOCTOR SAID IM CONTAGIOUS

you (7:13PM): IM MAD AT YOU

yeontan’s daddy (7:13PM): marius isn’t even in love with eponine??? it’s the other way around???

you (7:13PM): I KNOW

yeontan’s daddy (7:14PM): what were you even singing

you (7:14PM): ONE DAY MORE you (7:14PM): AND HE SANG ALL OF HIS LINES you (7:14PM): WHILE LOOKING AT ME you (7:14PM): AND IM ANGRY ABOUT IT

yeontan’s daddy (7:16PM): im going to be extremely disappointed if no one filmed this

you (7:16PM): EVERYONE JOINED IN you (7:16PM): HE GOT UP TO HIS FEET AND SUDDENLY IT WAS LIKE SOME HSM BULLSHIT you (7:16PM): I HATE THIS

yeontan’s daddy (7:19PM): i just double checked my lines for one day more and that’s like? very romantic? a 10/10 even if the delivery was a bit off

you (7:19PM): ARE YOU TAKING HIS SIDE!!!

yeontan’s daddy (7:19PM): is your caps lock button just… perpetually on

you (7:19PM): YES

yeontan’s daddy (7:19PM): you can’t possibly be this mad about being serenaded

you (7:20PM): IM DISTRESSED

yeontan’s daddy (7:20PM): is this because you literally have no idea how to navigate your feelings for yoongi

you (7:20PM): my only feelings for yoongi are disdain and general disgust

yeontan’s daddy (7:20PM): i really do not think that is true

you (7:20PM): what else could it be

yeontan’s daddy (7:23PM): hmmm yeontan’s daddy (7:23PM): i wonder

you (7:24PM): what the hell are you trying to say you (7:25PM): i know you fucking got this text you (7:26PM): do not leave me on read!!! you (7:34PM): taehyung!!!! how dare you!!!!! you (7:40PM): im calling the police !!!!! you (8:45PM): taehyung!!!!!!

It pains you to say so, but the set looks fantastic. As much as your petty grudges and general pride hate to admit it, Yoongi and his gang of gangly, uncoordinated, My Chemical Romance-listening stage crew students do a wonderful job each year, and this musical is no exception. On stage right now, in front of the background design of an unspecified French city in the early-to-mid 1800s is a pile of apparent rubbish. But it’s meant to be like that, old tables and chairs and even the damn piano from the choir room all mashed together, glued and nailed and enforced with random wooden planks here and there, meant to look like a real French barricade built haphazardly by students who most definitely aren’t gifted in the arts of engineering and invention. And if Namjoon, king of standing on top of things he shouldn’t be standing on top of, can climb to the top without either toppling over or bringing the whole construction down with him, then it must be sturdy as hell.

“You’re rousing, Namjoon,” the director tells him. The student in question is wobbling as he makes his way up the mountain of random household objects, Seokjin standing a couple of feet away on the sidelines and looking on fondly. “Be more… revolutionary. You’re calling everyone to action, right?”

“Right,” Namjoon nods, but the action makes him lose his footing for a quick second. He regains it nearly as fast, but not before Seokjin’s darting over, instinct telling him to protect the one he loves.

“Okay, so act like it,” the director says.

“Red, the blood of angry men!” Namjoon cries, his voice the slightest bit melodic that it needs to be. Seokjin looks on like a very pleased boyfriend.

“More! Angrier!” The director encourages. He’s been working on getting Namjoon to act more like a revolutionary in France in the early nineteenth century for a while now, most as a result of Namjoon’s insecurity of his ability to act like one. The thing is, you’ve seen Namjoon in debates in your political science class. And you’ve seen the way he protests the way that student minorities are always punished more severely than those that aren’t. And you’ve read his essays about the oppression of women’s rights in modern society. Namjoon’s about as revolutionary as they come, powerful, intelligent, noble—he just doesn’t know it.

“Red, the blood of angry men!” Namjoon says, getting provoked by the director. All of the students on stage are feeling the June Rebellion coursing through their veins, angry yet determined expressions lacing their features as they all engage in various revolutionary activity.

“Good, good!” The director emphasizes.

“Black, the dark of ages past!” continues Namjoon, getting a bit daring and moving to stand taller. He’s nearly at the top of the Mount Everest of rubbish. “Red, a world about to dawn!”

Namjoon takes one giant step, knee knocking into the edge of some table, and reaches the very peak of the trash pile. He balances himself on some sort of ledge and triumphantly raises both of his fists in the air, and with a great big, empowering grin, shouts, “Black, the night that ends at last!”

At this exact moment, ironically enough, all of the lights on stage shut off. The ones in the pit soon follow after a split second, and then the entire auditorium is shrouded in darkness.

“What the fuck,” you can hear Namjoon mutter to himself. He doesn’t dare move for fear of misplacing his foot and crashing to the stage floor.

“Go, Yoongi, go!”

The director doesn’t even have time to shout Hoseok’s name before you hear some random scuffling, rushed and quick and very disorganized. You whip your head around, hoping to spot the offending stage crew manager and the entourage he has somehow gathered to do his dirty work, but then the lights flicker back on, one by one from the back of the auditorium all the way to the stage, where Min Yoongi stands in the center with the megaphone held to his mouth.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. You already know exactly what’s about to happen and you try and hide yourself, sinking into the sweater you’re wearing as you quickly scan for any means of escape or disguise. Maybe you can go hide behind Jungkook, since he’s standing in the middle of the seats with a fat camera in his hand, filming the whole thing. You’re about to make a mad dash before Yoongi can do anything when you hear a crackling sound and—

“Y/N!” Yoongi shouts into the megaphone, his voice mildly unintelligible and cracked around the edges. He doesn’t really need to shout, not when he’s got a megaphone in his hand, but here he is.

“Oh my God,” you say in shock, your head slowly sinking into your hands. “Oh. My God.”

“IF I HAD TO CHOOSE BETWEEN GOING TO HARVARD AND GETTING TO DATE YOU, I WOULD DATE YOU,” Yoongi continues, voice blaring. “SORRY FOR CAUSING ALL OF THIS RUCKUS, DIRECTORS, BUT YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT TO ‘EM. SPECIFICALLY Y/N. BECAUSE I LOVE HER.”

“Christ almighty,” you continue to mutter, knowing fully well that Jungkook is panning back and forth between where you stand in the pit and where Yoongi stands on stage.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH GRANDER I CAN GO WITH THESE, Y/N. I’M RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS. YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED.”

Taehyung snickers somewhere next to you.

“IN ANY CASE, NOW THAT I’VE CAUSED ENOUGH DISRUPTION, PLEASE DON’T FIRE ME AS HEAD OF STAGE CREW. WE FINISHED ALL OF THE SETUP. I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING LEFT TO DO. I HAVE ONE FINAL QUESTION.”

It’s a wonder that Yoongi hasn’t auditioned for any sort of drama show because he’d almost be guaranteed a main role. What with all of this nonsense.

“WILL YOU, Y/N, DO ME THE HONOR OF GOING OUT ON A DATE WITH ME?”

Yoongi then proceeds to hand the megaphone off to Jimin, who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere, who grabs it in his baby-sized hands and rushes towards you with it. He hands it over to you and points to the button you’re meant to press to get the thing to turn on.

“Is this the best you can do, Min?” You ask in response, a challenge that he’s definitely going to accept. You’re digging your own grave here but you don’t have the heart to just straight up reject him, especially not when he’s managed to corral all of the kids in stage crew and the tech kids up in the light and soundbooth to do this for him. This is like some twisted promposal gone completely wrong. “Step your game up and then maybe I’ll consider it.”

With that, you hand the megaphone back to a very disgruntled director and continue on with your day. On stage, Yoongi is handing out high-fives to his entire crew, considering this endeavor a success. Or at least, a not-failure. The directors are trying to wrangle everyone up again to rehearse but consider their efforts fruitless and give a ten minute break.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say no,” Taehyung says in disbelief as he comes up next to you, arms crossed over his chest. “I thought Yoongi was a goner.”

“I’m being benevolent,” you inform him. “Next time he pulls some shit like this and I’m locking him up in the catwalk. When they tear this school down they will find his skeleton, still wearing that goddamn black beanie.”

“Wow, you really thought that out,” Taehyung comments, mildly impressed. Then, because he’s got the attention span of a puppy in a park, “I can’t believe you said you’d consider it. Since when do you consider anything to do with Yoongi?”

“I told you I was being benevolent.”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually warming up to the idea of going out with him. I’ll die of shock.”

“You sure that strep throat didn’t infect your brain?” You tease, ruffling his head.

“I think it might have, considering I just had a dream where you said you might actually consider going on a date with Yoongi.”

“I’m getting his hopes up so that I can crush them with my bare hands,” you say, glancing towards Yoongi. He seems to notice your gaze upon him and sends you some classic finger guns and an incredibly greasy wink, neither of which you return. “Like a grape.”

“I have never seen you crush a grape with your bare hands before.”

“Bring grapes tomorrow.”

“Regardless, you’re not that cruel, Y/N. You told Yoongi to step his game up and he will and if you reject him, I won’t be able to figure out if it’s all in good fun or not. It’s a fine line to cross, Y/N,” Taehyung warns cautiously, giving you a pointed look. You sigh. This isn’t how you pictured this conversation with Taehyung going. You thought he would just applaud you for not being so heartless but now he’s off preaching.

“I don’t know why he keeps doing it,” you think aloud. It’s never-ending, the confessions, over and over again without any sort of break in between. They’ve become so common that it’s a part of your routine at this point, something you just expect to happen despite their general spontaneity. It’s not so much that they’re predictable as it is they’re nice surprises.

Taehyung frowns. “Have you ever told him to stop?” He asks you with his eyebrows raised, a valid point to be making. “You know that if you told him to stop he would, right? He’s not that much of an asshole.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself when the realization hits you. It’s never occurred to you that you’ve never told Yoongi to stop with all of this nonsense, even after year after year of it. You know Yoongi well enough to know that if something he was doing made you feel truly uncomfortable, he wouldn’t continue doing it. He’s a decent guy like that. Taehyung’s right. Yoongi would stop the moment you asked him to.

But why haven’t you? Even after four years of having to hear him proclaim his undying affection for you in elaborate and schemed ways, you’ve never once told him no. You’ve accepted it as reality and continued on with your life.

It’s come so far that now you just expect them.

Like you’re waiting for the next time.

“You’re thinking awful hard about this,” Taehyung notes as he pops a piece of white cheddar popcorn into his mouth.

“I’m distressed,” you tell him.

“Have you ever once considered the idea that you may, in fact, enjoy the attention you receive from him?”

You scoff as a knee-jerk reaction. “Don’t be ridiculous. I hate him.”

Taehyung frowns. “I don’t really think that you do.”

“Can you stop doing that?” You ask bitterly.

Taehyung raises a brow. “Doing what?”

“Being all cryptic and shit. Whenever we talk about me and Yoongi all you do is dodge my questions and be vague. Extremely unhelpful,” you pout. Taehyung’s your best friend—he should be the one telling you the things you don’t know. Every time you ask him to spell something out for you he jumbles up the letters like a child with a magnetic alphabet on his fridge.

“I’m not here to police your feelings for him,” Taehyung tells you.

“My feelings for him?”

“Tell me right now, to my face, that you hate him. If you can, I’ll believe you.”

You turn to him, glare into Taehyung’s deep brown eyes, and open your mouth. The words should come easily to you—after all, you’ve been repeating them to yourself for years now—but your tongue is dry.

You know you can’t say that you hate Yoongi. Because you don’t. You really, really don’t. Maybe he’s loud and obnoxious and spontaneous and outrageous but you don’t hate that about him. He cares deeply and works hard and always makes sure that the stage crew is organized and prepared and treats them with respect and you don’t hate him. You can’t.

“Knew it,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. “You’re awfully soft, did you know that, Y/N? Always have been.”

“I take personal offense to that.”

“You’re such a goner for him, don’t you know that?” Taehyung asks. He motions his head towards Yoongi, who’s laughing on stage with Jimin and Seokjin. They’re tossing Goldfish into each other’s mouth, and one hits Yoongi on the nose before falling to the floor. He’s laughing. They all are, but Yoongi beaming. He outshines everyone on stage even if he isn’t an actor himself. He’s wondrous.

You sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

After your final dress rehearsal, everyone’s deadbeat tired. It’s nearing eleven at night and you think you’ve set a record for how long you can be in your school building in one go. Even Taehyung’s about to fall asleep, and the man downed a venti Starbucks coffee during the last period of the day.

“Good run, folks!” Your director shouts. “You guys will be amazing on Thursday, I know it! Get some much needed rest. No practice tomorrow, so don’t show up here otherwise I’ll have to hear about it from management!”

Everyone groans out their response as they gather their bags, wiping off the makeup on their faces with dried-out wipes and dampened paper towels. Right now, there is no place more enticing to you than your bed back home, sheets crumpled and warm.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” Taehyung shouts as he’s bounding down the steps outside, jumping into the passenger seat of his older brother’s car. Normally he’d be offering to drive you home but his car’s in the shop. The damn thing was on its last legs anyway. It needed some repairs.

“See you!” You wave back, turning to go back inside the auditorium. It’s oddly cold tonight, and you underprepared with just a t-shirt, so you’re trying to conserve as much warmth as you can before your ride comes.

The auditorium’s mostly cleared out, lights dim and hazy. But there in the middle is Yoongi, leaning down to clean up the remnants of the nonsense on stage. He looks so alone, up on stage without anybody else. Nobody seems to have stayed back to help him.

Your ride can wait a couple minutes.

You drop your backpack down in one of the seats next to the aisle as you walk up to him, strides longer to get you there faster.

“Need some help?” You ask.

Your voice catches him off guard, and he looks up with his mouth in the shape of a small ‘o’. He blinks a couple of times, like he’s processing the fact that you’re here, standing in front of him, offering a hand.

“Me? Oh, yeah. That would be nice, thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

You come up on stage and Yoongi directs you to the broom hanging up on the wall so you can dust away anything left on stage—not that there’s very much. In his hands, Yoongi’s got a couple stray pieces of paper and some safety pins that must have fallen off some of the costumes. Jimin will need those.

You fall into this silence as the two of you clean up what’s left. Most of it’s just tidying up, organizing the props on the tables backstage so that everything’s in order for the show in a couple days, but it’s important. Important enough for you and Yoongi to be the only two people left to do it.

This is the kind of thing that’s supposed to be awkward and romantic at the same time. You and Yoongi are the only ones left in this dark auditorium as the moon waits above your head for some miracle to play out. You don’t know what to say to each other but your company is enough of an icebreaker. His mere presence fills up the space, even if he’s one lonely man on a giant stage. Yoongi’s exhausted, the bags under his eyes deep and dark, much like your own. Alongside being part of the drama club as a whole, you’re also officers of it, meaning the two of you take on responsibilities nobody else in the club would dare to. You love this, love being on stage and acting and entertaining others, but days like this are draining.

“You should get some rest,” Yoongi breaks through the layer of tension in the air. You didn’t even realize that it had settled until he waved it away. He walks up to you with a damp rag in his hand from wiping down the set for the last time to clean it of any dust that might have settled.

“You too,” you tell him softly, holding the broom close to your body to give your hands something to do.

“I’m not the one performing on stage in a couple days,” says Yoongi, smiling to himself.

“Just because I’m under the lights and you aren’t doesn’t make you any less important, Min,” you say to him, looking down at your feet because you don’t think you could bear looking into his eyes. It’s dark, everything’s dark, from his hat to his clothes to the stage to the auditorium to his irises. “Without you, we’d have no show.”

“I—I mean I just move stuff off and on stage,” Yoongi admits shyly. Why does he think so little of himself? Doesn’t he know how much he matters?

“You built the damn stage,” you tell him, finally mustering up enough courage to look him in the eye. You signal to the rest of the set, designed and constructed and decorated perfectly, a display of all of his hard work, right in front of him. There’s not a thing out of place. At least, it doesn’t look that way to you. “This was all you.”

“I had a lot of help,” he whispers.

“So did I,” you tell him. “What you do here matters, Min,” you stress, hoping he’ll understand. Hoping he’ll know how much his work means to you. How much he means to you. “You matter.”

It’s then that Yoongi looks up. He’s got his dark pink lips in that little ‘o’ again, but then they shift into a small smile, miniscule. You’d probably hardly be able to see it if you weren’t so close to him. His eyes crinkle up ever so slightly. God, he’s…

“I’ll see you at the show on Thursday, okay?” Yoongi asks, eyes hopeful. He doesn’t need to be hopeful, not when you and him both have to show up no matter what, but he asks it like he isn’t sure. He should be.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. For some reason, you can’t wait to see him again.

“Eponine! Eponine, come on!”

Namjoon’s shouting your name as you rush backstage. It’s the finale for Act One and you barely had time to get yourself situated since your last scene, dirtying up your clothes a bit more and covering your cheeks with brown and black eyeshadow. Time passes by too quickly for this show, strange enough since it’s long as hell.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you whisper shout in response, coming up next to Namjoon. You look across the stage in the hopes that maybe you can catch a glimpse of Yoongi, but you’ve barely seen him at all since you arrived to get into your costume. Maybe a couple of glances, here or there, but other than that he seems to be entirely AWOL.

“One Day More, One Day More!” Namjoon tells you in a hurry and you rush on stage, hidden in the darkness as you stand, waiting for your cue.

The lights on stage come back on. Seokjin stands in the center in his Jean Valjean costume, looks out into the audience, and begins to sing. Soon enough, Taehyung and Eunbi join him on stage, standing a few feet away from him as they sing to each other. The spotlight’s on just them for right now as they share their song, but soon enough you feel the heat of the light on you and join in.

Just for now, any thought of Yoongi evaporates from your mind. You can’t really think of him, not as you stand on stage and sing for your friends, your family, anyone who has come to see this show on this rainy Thursday night. The Act One Finale is always your favorite thing to perform, just because it’s so energetic, inclusive, fun.

Soon the entire cast is on stage, each person singing their part as the pit plays beneath you. It’s your first showing but undoubtedly not your best, even as you accidentally stumble over your words when you spot Yoongi rushing around backstage, just a momentary glimpse of him. He looks awfully busy.

The song comes to a close and the lights turn off to a round of applause from the audience. The curtains close, the whirring of the machine that moves them barely audible over the sound of the cast members shuffling off stage. Intermission’s meant to last about fifteen minutes, just long enough for everyone to change and clean up and for the stage crew to set up for the next scene. You’re sweating from being under the lights, hair matted by your forehead where your perspiration collects, and you wipe away what you can with a paper towel as you head off stage to take a breather.

You’re barely out into the hallway when you feel someone grab onto your wrist at the same time a voice outside says, “Attention, everyone, could I just get your attention for a moment?”

It’s Yoongi.

Eyes wide, you turn to the person holding onto your wrist to find your best friend smiling guiltily at you, like he knows something you don’t. He definitely knows something you don’t.

“Taehyung, what on earth are you doing?” You hiss at him, but he shrugs.

“I’m being the best friend in the entire world,” Taehyung responds, before he pulls you down to the doors that lead to the pit, opening them and pushing you into the auditorium. Almost immediately, a light shines on you, and you wince as your eyes adjust to the glare. Taehyung waves up to Hoseok. “Go!” Taehyung shouts, motioning up to where Yoongi stands, rocking back and forth in his all black Converse, a microphone in his hand.

Your hardened expression softens into something grossly fond as you make your way up the stairs onto the stage, the spotlight following your each and every step. Yoongi waits at the top like a groom watching his bride come down the aisle. You can’t help but feel like that comparison isn’t too far off.

“Sorry to disrupt your, uh, intermission, everyone,” he says gruffly into the microphone. “This’ll be really quick.” You can tell that he doesn’t want to look into your eyes but he can’t figure out a better place to put his gaze. “Anyway, Y/N, you know that I do a lot of dumb sh—I mean, stuff to get your attention and then you said that I should step my game up so here we are.”

Even if this the most public any one of his elaborate confessions has been, it doesn’t feel that way. You’ve got an entire audience this time, both in the seats and backstage, everyone watching as Yoongi tries one more time. You can hear the doors leading to the pit opening as the entire cast tries to get a glimpse of what’s happening on stage.

This feels different.

It feels different because suddenly Yoongi’s the speechless one, cheeks bright red as he tries to curl into his clothing, sink into the fabric impossibly closer. You’re the one receiving whatever love confession is on the end of this but now he’s the one who’s unsure and embarrassed. It’s kind of endearing, really.

“You’ve probably heard me say this a bunch but I figured there was no better way to say it than in front of the audience for the first night of our show, right?” He forces a chuckle and it makes him cough a little. You can’t help but smile at him. “I don’t know, you’ve always been so wonderful and kind and strong and funny and you make everyone around you laugh, even me, and I make all of these elaborate schemes to ask you out on a date with me but I feel like doing this whole thing just for a date is a bit shallow, so I’ve decided on something else.”

It’s then that Jung Hoseok, decked out in a black hoodie three times the size of his torso and skintight pants, shuffles onto stage with a single rose in his hand. It’s a lavender purple rose. You didn’t even realize that they sold those.

“Anyway, what I’m really trying to say before everyone in the audience gets fed up with me for taking time out of their intermission is, well,” Yoongi teeters on his feet awkwardly, leaning his weight from one side to the other as he twirls the rose between his fingers. “Will you go to prom with me?”

You open your mouth to respond but Seokjin beats you to it.

“Say yes!” He shouts from the sidelines, making Yoongi laugh.

Yoongi looks so nervous. So unsure of himself yet so hopeful, wishing and wishing and wishing. You’ve got a four year streak of turning him down and for the longest time you swore you’d never break it but things are different now.

“I’d love to, Min.”

Yoongi lights up, not even like a Christmas tree but like the whole fucking Christmas display at the mall, the one with reindeers and snowflakes and everything. He lights up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. He carefully gives the rose to you but you crush it between your fingers as you hug him, pull him close.

Everyone in the audience cheers. Taehyung’s shouting, “That’s my best friend! That’s my best friend right there!” Next to him, Jungkook’s got his camera up, filming the boy in all black with a pink tinge to his cheeks and the girl in tattered rags with dirt covering her face.

When you and Yoongi walk off stage to join your friends behind the scenes, he laces his fingers in between yours. You don’t anticipate on letting go for a long while.

“Can we banish them from the couch?” Hoseok asks loudly, over the music playing from the television. “They’re being all date-y and shit.”

“We are dating, you asshole,” Yoongi shouts. He’s got one arm wrapped around your side as the other holds the phone up in front of your faces, your body curled into him with your knees tucked close to your chest, leaning against him.

“That’s up to the man of the house, Hobi,” Jimin says as he hands Hoseok another root beer. He motions to Seokjin, who is entirely too busy laughing his entire ass off as he plays What Do You Meme? with Namjoon, Taehyung, Eunbi, and Jungkook on the carpet. They seem to be having a grand old time. You move your head over slightly to see them battling over who won the card with that blue button meme with the giant word NUT written on top of it. Namjoon eventually gives the round to Seokjin, prompting everyone else to accuse them of cheating because they’re dating.

“I hate this so much,” Hoseok says, sighing. “What are you guys even watching?”

“It’s this video of an owner dressing up as their dog’s favorite toy,” Yoongi says without taking his eyes off of the video. The dog starts smothering its owner in kisses. God, you don’t deserve dogs.

“You guys might not want to sit on the left side of that couch!” Seokjin shouts as a warning from across the way, eyebrows raised and cheeks tinged a hazy red in the dim light of his living room.

You and Yoongi look at each other, confused for a brief second, before the both of you start groaning, quickly getting up from where you were seated and searching for another place of lodging. Did you need to know what Seokjin and Namjoon do in their free time? Absolutely not. Did you find out anyway? Unfortunately.

“Hey, deal us in,” you say to Taehyung, settling down in between him and Jungkook. Yoongi takes a seat beside you as Taehyung hands each of you seven cards. Your boyfriend—God, that’s so nice to say—instantly laughs, hearty and loud and wonderful, upon reading the first one.

The next meme Namjoon pulls from the box is the one photo from when Obama gave Joe Biden the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Everyone laughs at the sight of it as they play their cards. It’s Seokjin’s turn to judge.

When he flips over the last card, it’s a freestyle one. Taehyung immediately claims it as his own.

“Go on, give us what you got, Tae,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung clears his throat before announcing, “When Y/N finally said yes to going out with Yoongi after four years of being too constipated in her feelings to realize that she liked him.”

The night fades out like the end of a film, the last scene of a play, with everyone laughing as you beat your best friend with your fists for being so goddamn awful. Yoongi presses an insistent kiss to your forehead as Seokjin easily hands that one to Taehyung, who takes the meme card with pride.

The curtain closes.

thank you so much for reading! i just learned that i can’t put links on my posts otherwise tumblr x-nays them for the search engine, so if you wanna talk to me, hit up my ask box!

#yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #yoongi scenario #suga scenario #suga fluff #suga angst #bts au #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #yoongi au #suga au #IM SORRY IVE BEEN SUCH A BUTT AND DELAYED THIS FOR SO LONG #BUT IT'S FINALLY HERE #HAPPY BIRTHDAY EM !!!! U FUCKER !!! THIS IS FOR YOU !!!!#w: a heart full of love

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jencala · 5 years

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I wonder how marlenemckinn can actually write with your head so far up her ass. You rec and reblog her fics all the time and gush about her so much. Is this another crush? There's lots of other writers in the fandom that could use the recs from a big blog like yours. Use your popularity to help other writers please. I do love your writing but you reblog the same writers over and over and then fangirl over some writers and rp'ers like you're a teenager.

Nonny, did you ever think maybe I like eating ass? ;-)

Ah, where to start with this lovely ask? Let’s start with @marlenemckinn. I absolutely do gush over her and her fics because I love them. I’ve been a fan of her work for a really long time and only found her tumblr a few months ago and you’d better believe I gushed at her. She’s talented, has extremely diverse fics, is my Queen of the Wolfstar AU and if you follow my blog you know I get a massive hard-on for AU’s. She writes my OTP beautifully and in any setting and trope she does. I’ve also been lucky enough to get to know her a bit and she’s sweet and funny and just a lovely person. What’s not to gush about and fan-girl over?

You talk about me gushing over people as if in order to do it has to be a crush. First of all, having a crush, even a fandom crush, is not a bad thing even though you seem to think it is. For the record, I do not have a crush on @marlenemckinn, but I definitely get a lady boner for her writing and her posts. ;-)

Since you seem to follow me you know that’s what I do; I gush about people. I’ve always been a fan-girl from the time I was like 9 and crazy for Menudo and when I was 15 and dying over the New Kids on the Block. Hey, give me a break, I’m old, remember? The point is that I’ve always been a fan-girl and I do love to shower praise on my favorite fanfic writers and RP’ers. They work hard and deserve to be praised and gushed over.

There’s always a rise and fall of nasty stuff in fandom and right now we seem to be going through a big rise in nasty anons. Why not spread some love and positivity when and where you can? This fandom is blessed with a plethora of really talented creators and as someone who really likes to give praise (why yes, I do have a praise kink, thank you very much) and make others feel proud and happy about the things they enjoy, I’m going to continue doing just that. It feels good when someone compliments you about something you’ve done and when I enjoy someone’s art, their writing, their RP or even just who they are as a person, you had better believe I am going to sing their praises from the rooftops if I can. I don’t see why that’s a problem. This is who I am in real life as well as online. I won’t change and won’t apologize for it.

Now let’s address another point you made. My popularity and helping other writers with it. What makes you think I’m popular? My blog has a really decent following but it’s only ¼ of what @captofthesswolfstar has and even half of what @padfootlupinblack has and that dork doesn’t even publish his writing. lol I have no idea where the notion that I’m a “big blog” came from. Maybe it’s because I’m friends with some of the people who are considered to be “big blogs”, but I honestly don’t know where that perception came from. I’m just a massive dork who writes gay porn about fictional characters and proclaims her love for other dorks.

I have a very busy life offline and my time to read fics is really limited. Of course the first fics I read are going to be authors I already know and love. Of course I’m going to rec those fics. However, I regularly read new writers as well as lots of recs that come my way. I always make a point of asking for recs and encouraging new writers or writers that might be flying under the radar to dm me their work or to send me links. I love finding new Wolfstar writers and recc’ing them. I do it all the time. If you look under my fic recs tag I’ve got tons of recs by well known writers and some you might not have heard of. If I like the fic it gets recc’d.

But if I don’t know about it how can I rec it or even read it?

I really hate this thing where the “big blogs” have to feel pressure to help new creators. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but no one has to help anyone get more readers or followers. Most blogs with a larger following do rec newcomers and love to do so. But it’s not their responsibility to do so.

I have had this blog for almost 5 years and the first few years I was lucky to have 100 followers and I was thrilled to have that. You mean 100 people want to hear the nonsense I spew? DAMN. I’ve worked hard with my writing, I’ve tagged other blogs to share my work and I post all the time. It’s how I built my following and my readership for my fics. I have zero shame in promoting myself or my work because I want it to be seen. BUT, if another blogger or writer isn’t doing the same thing and fly under my radar, how is it my job to help promote them when I don’t know they exist?

I really appreciate your comment about my writing and I’m happy you enjoy it, but this ask really threw me for a loop. It’s not hateful per se, but it’s really not nice is it? Bottom line is I’m going to keep gushing, keep recc’ing, and keep spreading the love I have for other creators and yelling my praises at them because that’s who I am. Like it or not.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to change positions because having my head so far up @marlenemckinn‘s ass can get a bit uncomfortable for both of us and I need that woman to crank out another chapter of her fic for me. ;-)

#FFS #I just can't even deal with this ask #it's insane #what's wrong with praising people?#and you know what?#what if I do like eating ass?#dont' kinkshame people #I won't change #and you shouldn't expect me to #want me to rec your fics?#send them to me!#I'm not actively looking for new writers #but love when I find them

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purrincess-chat · 6 years

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Some ramblings and advice I guess...

So, I feel like somethings need be said, and I want to preface this by saying I'm perfectly fine lol. No one is sending me hate or anything like that, and I'm not offended by Thomas being a pissbaby over my post on Twitter, but I am going to start by saying that when I made that post I had no intention of ever sending it to Thomas. That's not why I made it, in fact, it never should have been sent to Thomas. Someone did that without my knowledge, and I have already spoken to them.

I made that post because someone asked me a question, and I answered it. I voiced a lot of concerns that many people have already spoken of, I just compiled them. It was salty, it was sarcastic, it contained a lot of jokes and jabs, but it was never intended to be an actual critique that I felt should be taken into consideration by the writers. It was one salty fan venting to another about our problems with the writing of the show.

I know that they write this shit in advance. I know that they are currently writing s4/5, and because of that I know that any hope for the writing improving is dead. That's not why I made the post. When people salt about the writing, most of us are well aware of the fact that it's not going to change anything because what's done is already done. We aren't trying to change the future. We make these posts to bemoan what could have been. It's cathartic. It's venting. It's like someone bitching about their job and how much they hate it but still showing up the next day.

Let me be the first to advise you, don't send Thomas salt on Twitter.

That post was not formulated in a way to be constructive criticism that he should read and take into account to improve his work. It was salt. Pure unadulterated salt. Thomas barely responds well to people asking him clarification questions politely on Twitter, let alone someone sending him 3000+ words of my bitter ass. Really at this point asking him anything on Twitter is pointless which is why I bitch here. I've never sent him a damn thing on Twitter because I know he just blocks people then whines and gathers pity from his followers.

I am not cool at all with harassment. I may salt about him a lot here, but I do not condone harassing him to his face. He is a human person. It doesn't matter how much you may dislike him, but he doesn't deserve to be told that he should die or that he's a terrible person who doesn't deserve happiness or any shit like that. That's toxic and the reason why fandom gets a bad name. Do not ever harass anyone, or send them "criticism" on Twitter. They never respond well.

Truthfully his reaction to my post was not surprising to me lol. The post wasn't nice, and I never intended it to be, but again, it shouldn't have been sent to him. Nor should anyone's salt posts, and there are many out there that are worse even than mine. I will tell all of you the same thing I always say: Ignore him.

Don't look at his Twitter. Don't engage him. Don't send him anything. Don't worry about what he says. Ignore him. Because it has been proven time and time again that people just get angrier every time he opens his mouth. A lot of people who have left the fandom site him as a reason, so don't pay him any mind. He isn't worth your time.

Additionally, I have lowered my expectations for this show a lot. I pointed out all of the issues that myself and others have, but honestly I don't expect any of those things to ever be fixed. I've made my peace with that. I'm just here for ships, friends, art, and to write fanfiction. Most of the time now I ignore discourse and just throw myself into writing because I've accepted that if I want to see something, I should just create it instead of bitching and moaning. I choose to be productive instead of salty which is why I have so much spite fic going on right now, which another reason I took the time to make that post is because I am planning an AU that is going to rewrite a lot of canon, so it was also a sort of reference to myself of things that I want to do better in my own writing.

My advice to any young fans or new fans just entering the fandom (which if you're new and following me then I am terribly sorry. Rethink your life choices cause I am garbage XD) just don't even worry about Thomas. Like some art, write some fic, chat with people about what you like, what you don't like, and just enjoy yourself. Because fandom politics are tired, and I am tired of them.

#miraculous ladybug #ml salt #cat speaks #some thoughts #idk

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minnie-marvel · 6 years

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Operation Juliet (Peter Parker x Reader) Part 3 [finale]

You’ve been head over heels for Peter Parker for almost a year hiding your feelings behind love letters that you never thought would reach him. When your best friend slips one into your locker, you give up on hiding your letters from Peter and begin to slip them into his locker on a daily basis. Peter is through with not knowing who you are so he and Ned finally decide to engage in a proper investigation to figure out your identity!

Peter Parker x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Words:

A/N:Finally!! The curtain comes to a close on this romantic sap of a fic!! I’m so glad you all enjoyed this piece it was honestly a freaking delight to create this. Like writing love letters is so fun and sweet If only i had someone to write some to hahaha

Before we go on although I’d like to bring your attention to this MASTERPIECE @seven-magic-sins drew for this fic!!! PLEASE CHECK OUT THEIR ART WHAT THEY DID WAS SUPER SWEET AND THEY DESERVE ALL THE LOVE!!!!

(BTW if anyone makes fanart for my fics you bet your sweet ass I’ll be featuring it in my works!!! It’s too thoughtful to ignore!!! As long as it’s PG I’ll be putting it on the next update of said fic!!!)

Now then, let’s get to the good stuff shall we?

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His breathing stopped, his heart froze, his eyes locked onto your notebook where your name was written in a perfectly adorable script that he had only seen once before.

“Thanks!!” you chirped innocently as Peter handed you your notebook trying to keep himself from bursting into flames at the mere sight of you. He didn’t meet your eyes for a moment as he mumbled a quick “no problem” to you. When he was finally able to peel his gaze back from the floor, he nearly fell over again. He was stunned at how cool and collective you were being, despite your underlying romantic demeanor. You were the girl he was looking for, his Juliet.

Unfortunately for you, you were about as oblivious as Peter, and didn’t notice his obvious ogling over you. Or maybe you were just completely thrown off due to the fact that Peter was actually talking to you in the first place?

Peter’s brain felt clogged with all of the incoming messages his heart was seemingly telling him. It was screaming that he was an idiot, a dork and super lame for not being able to come up with anything to say for at least three minutes. You both were left in a very awkward silence, neither of you being able to believe that you were actually talking to the other person.

“So uh… my friend said she talked to you about Spiderman today!” You felt your voice crack again. Godamnit. He had to take a moment to think back to who you could possibly be talking about. Was it a girl? Or worse, maybe a boy? That’s when the realization struck him like a brick to the head.

“Oh yeah!! The girl on track.. what was her name?? Sorry, I’m like… really bad with those.” He said quickly. You shook your head happy that you had gotten a conversation flowing. “Eve!” you answered. You weren’t going to tell him that she was essentially your distraction, but it wasn’t like you had to anymore, Peter had soon pieced together your little plan to throw him off.

He felt his brain slap himself. Oh, you were good, too good.

“Right…” he said softly. “You know Y/N, I never really see you around school! Where are you always hiding?” he gave a soft laugh that sent your heart sky high. Ah yes, that was why you were in love with him. It wasn’t that you had forgotten, but seeing Peter being so adorable in person seemed to make you fall all over again.

You blushed realizing you had let a second or two fly by before responding due to you swooning over him internally. “Oh well, I’m not exactly in your classes, I’m just a grade below you but…there’s always passing!!” You said quickly to make up for the lost time. You felt embarrassment sink in your chest. You really hoped he didn’t suddenly see you as some squabbling infant in comparison to him.

“That makes sense…” He said a little too thoughtfully for your taste. Oh god, why was he saying it like that?? Were you drooling?? You were probably drooling. You wiped your mouth slightly despite no saliva being present. “It’s too bad, it would be cool to see you around more often, you’re a pretty sweet person!”

911? Yes, you’d like to report a homicide. This boy had practically shot you in the heart.

You started to giggle like an idiot. “N-no not really..!!” you said trying to look away from him. Peter couldn’t help but give a laugh as well. Boy, if you were this bashful over a small compliment, who knew what you would do if he actually told you how he thought you were a literal angel sent from heaven that he didn’t know he deserved.

You felt the train slowly pull to a stop and felt your heart tear slightly as Peter started to move. “This is me,” He said sadly himself. He wanted to tell you he knew you, so badly. Not that he had known you from your first day of school when you dropped your books all over the floor just as you did a few minutes ago. He wanted to tell you that he knew you and everything that your heart wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell you that his heart wanted to speak to yours too.

“Bye Peter!” You waved to him as he took a step off the bus. He gave you a smile that made you want to faint before walking off into the distance while the train pulled off again. Peter pulled his phone out almost immediately texting Ned.

‘Ned. Emergency. I know who Juliet is.’ --- Ned had met Peter at his apartment as soon as he could. Overwatch would have to wait, it wasn’t every day he and Peter had a cute girl pinning after one of them.

“Oh!! Y/N!” Ned said stroking his chin as he spun in Peter’s chair. “I see her a lot in the library,” he thought allowed. “She’s super quiet though I’ve never even heard her speak before…” his hand dropped to his side in disbelief. “I can’t believe she of all people is… Juliet.” He shrugged.

“What?? Dude, she’s like perfect come on!!!” Peter shouted.

“No, no, bro I’m not saying she’s not perfect!! I just didn’t think it would be her,” Ned said. He stood still for a moment before turning fully to him. “How are you gonna tell her Pete?”

Peter pursed his lips. “Well, there’s only one thing I can do,” He said simply. --- You hummed softly to yourself, you were having a fantastic day. You had gotten an A on your math test which you were convinced that you had failed (math and science was never your strong suits). You had finished one of your reading assignments freeing your weekend up, and on top of all that, yesterday’s conversation with Peter still left you feeling on top of the world.

The last bell of the day had rung and your felt your excitement grow. The weekend was here and you were free to do whatever you pleased. You opened up your locker to pack up your things for the weekend when you felt something tap your feet. Your eyes naturally glanced at the floor and you felt your chest clench.

There was a small envelope lying at your feet with your name written on its front.

You swept it into your hands almost immediately, fearful that it might disappear if you didn’t pick it up quick enough. Your fingers trembled as they slowly tore through the paper revealing a letter inside. You felt your skin shake as you read.

To the silently sweet Y/N, who writes from afar,

Okay, first off, I know this is super cheesy and a dumb attempt to try and copy what you’ve mastered. What you’ve created for the past month is not something as simple as letters Y/N; it’s an art. I’m an idiot for not realizing sooner. You’d think someone who’s gained a full-time internship to Stark labs would have known better. Enough about me although, I’m sure you’ve had enough letters about me in your hands long enough. It’s time for me to finally return your favor. If you are as loving, intelligent, and beautiful as Juliet, am I even worthy to be your Romeo? I’ve never been one to be very confident, but I think I’d do a better job than a Montague of being your one true love. That is if you’d still want to love a dork like me who couldn’t figure you out till now. Your letters have created a change in me; they’ve started a fire in my heart that I can’t control any longer. At first, it was a spark, then a steady flame, and now Y/N? Well, I don’t even think a typhoon could smother out the wildfire that explodes when I think about how perfect you are, and how I don’t deserve you. There’s so much more I want to tell you, but I think you deserve a better explanation than a letter that’s practically a steaming pile of crap in comparison to your masterpieces. Will you let me explain? I hope you will Y/N.

Signed,

Your hopelessly romantic Romeo

Peter

You knew this was good news. Hell, this was AMAZING news! But you couldn’t help but shake when you lifted your eyes from the paper. When you did, your world seemed to stop in motion and everything froze.

Peter stood only a couple of feet away from you, watching you read the letter with the goofiest most adorable smile that you thought you could even see on this planet. Your hands dropped to your side as he took a couple of steps closer to you. Your face was about as red as the color on his spidey suit at this point. You couldn’t help but look down in embarrassment.

“Hey, hey!!” Peter chuckled taking you gently by the shoulders when he saw your frown. “What’s wrong D-did I do a bad job??” He saw your tears drop onto your shoes and bit his lip pulling you into a quick embrace. “Y/N…?” He asked feeling his heart jump, stop and burn all at once.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find me…” You whispered the tears hot on your cheeks. “Yeah,” Peter tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry it took so long, you’d think a so-called genius could have pieced it together sooner right?” He tapped his forehead against yours and you finally got the courage to look at him. You thought that his eyes were warm enough to melt a block of ice.

“It’s not that…” you smiled softly. “I didn’t think you’d necessarily want to find me…” you explained. “I mean I’m not that noticeable, I’m quiet, I can’t even speak to you without having a mini heart attack,”

“Y/N, I don’t care about any of that,” He answered taking a strand of your hair pushing it behind your ear. “You’re shyness, your quietness, it’s all in our personality and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.” He smiled his hands sliding from your back to your hands. “I meant everything I said in those letters Y/N, I don’t want you to just be my Juliet.” Your heart nearly stopped and your eyes searched his fearful of his next response. “ I want you to be my Y/N, totally and completely with every quirk that you have.”

He took a moment to laugh to himself. “And let’s not forget that I’m no angel either, I think I’m about as awkward as they come,” You sighed softly letting your head rest on his chest now. Your heart was a glow and your spirits were so high you thought that it could reach satellites. Everything felt perfect, for a moment you expected credits to roll.

“So,” Peter said drawing you out of your thoughts. “How do you feel about Thai?” He said wrapping one arm around you as you walked together down the hall. You felt your hand touch his as you looked up at him. “I think that sounds good,” You smiled. Ned and Eve passed you both by casually as you walked and exchanged knowing glances. They gave each other high fives before calling out to you.

“Hey, Romeo and Juliet!!” Eve snorted nudging Ned’s side. “Get a room you too!” Ned smirked.

You couldn’t help but smile. You looked down at the letter in your other hand again blushing slightly. “Hey, Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Did my letters make you this flustered?” You asked still showing him the letter. Peter laughed loudly having to stop mid-walk altogether in order to compose himself again. He turned to you his cheeks rosy from laughter and his feelings for you.

“Y/N, you have no idea,”

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Operation Juliet Tag

@littlevelvethearts @yourwonderbelle @dust-finatic @hawaiiantozier @awesomefandomsunited @potato384 @fandoms-in-my-tea @drowning-in-the-stars13 @angry-kylo @i-heart-movies @tonystarkshat @54fangirl @skeletalwolfcat @just-saying-26 @pan-tarou-amami @theatregeek217 @wisestark @mxrvel-imxgines-blog @wukindly @bitchstolemynutellaus @avengingly @metermarker @plethoraofpuppies @angie1djonasgg @spookydragonprincess @dark-night-sky-99 @gabbygurrl @angel-in-the-roses @the-silver-iris @person-without-a-life @spiderboyx @dontstopxx @avengingly

Permanent Tag

@memyselfandmaddox @fangirlftshipper @two-eleven-thirty-four@the-fifth-marauder-paws @shieldgirl95 @lostnliterature@elsasshole@governmentducks @lupe-55@drinkingteandfangirling@sighspidey@laurfangirl424 @iwouldtakeascootertotheankle@sharingfanfictionandart @lara-ludbey @shutupyoumewlingquim @aspiring-author14@marvelswebdesigner @an-earthly-comfort@ellaisbutteredtoast@flaminghottaquito @american-cactus@ouatandsupernatural@spideypoolltrash @embrace-themagic@wantyoubackyoungblood @spiderdudeparker @thumper-darling@multi-parker @shakespeare-and-shenanigans

Discount Avengers Tag

@magic-marvel @sunflowerannawrites @peter-prkers@greekdemigodwannabe @secondsineternity@sadicallyrad@holland-haven @highlady-ofthe-summercourt@meoodle @who-the-buck-is-stucky @e-ms-world @hedwigthelegend @lucky-charms-writes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #minnie marvel makes a fic #spider man: homecoming #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel imagine

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officialthiamlibrary · 7 years

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Welcome to another profile on Behind the Screens, giving you personal insight on who your favorite creators are and what they do when they aren’t wowing you with their creative ability.

Hiya! I’m popping out of my writing cave to share with you the greatness of another artist, Glitter-cake20, also known as Sammy. You’ve probably seen her awe-inspiring manips, gifs, incorrect quotes, and stories floating around your dashboard. In our talk, she shares her #1 guilty pleasure ship, creates her optimal Teen Wolf Puppy Pack spin-off, and lets us in her creative process.

Sammy! Why don’t we start off simple? Tell us about yourself. The catch: the word count is either to or less than the number of letters in your two favorite Teen Wolf episode names. (ex. Raving + Galvanize = 19)

Memory Found + Smoke and Mirrors = 25

I’m really lazy. I like reading. I’m great at killing zombies on Xbox. I have blood in my coffee stream. I have resting bitch face.

Ooh, what makes these two your favorite?

Memory Found because i feel like that is really where Theo learned to be selfless. He fought with Liam knowing he could get killed or taken, and then later he literally sacrificed himself for a pack that wanted him dead.

Smoke and Mirrors - the entire Mexico trip was great but the part that really stood out in Smoke and Mirrors was when Berserker Scott had Liam pinned to the wall and Liam said “Scott listen! You’re not a monster, you’re a werewolf like me” which parallels to earlier in Season 4 when Scott had said that same thing to Liam. It was just beautiful because it showed how Liam had accepted himself as a werewolf. Also, Derek evolving was just wow!

And how did you come to the Thiam fandom? What about them drew you in?

You know, I had just created a twitter account and I was just following few accounts for Teen Wolf, kind of just bopping along with all the other popular ships, and then someone made a post about “OMG what was THAT” and I opened the video and it was Theo and Liam making glorious eye contact, and I was never the same again.

What drew me in the most was that Theo was so vulnerable when Liam brought him back. He was once such a badass and now he was suddenly latched on to Liam - just made my heart melt. And Liam is my boy, but he made me so angry when he was mean to Theo! Like no boo, that’s not how Scott raised you!

Lately, there’s been exclamations from our pack about Thiam bleeding into their real lives (like, seeing their relationship in every movie/song or experiencing story plots in real life, etc.), have you felt this sensation recently? If so, in what ways?

Yes! I was sitting at a coffee shop writing the other day, and this adorable couple walked in. My brain immediately went “That’s Theo and that’s Liam” And I’m like, what is actually wrong with me? And literally every epic movie quote is now about Thiam, I’ve actually done a bunch of edits about that, which I will share for the Thiam Movie Fest.

Omg! That totally happens to me all the time, everywhere!! Since you see Thiam in anything, would you say they’re your #1 guilty pleasure ship? If not, what are your guilty pleasure ships, couples where you don’t care who knew or who disagreed, you ship them regardless?

Oh gosh I’ve had many. Stalia was one. I really liked the dynamic, in the same breath I was also pining for Stydia. I loved Jethan when that teaser came out. Briam, although I don’t think anyone would disagree. Brett and Mason! And even when Scott and Allison broke up I was like, no but Scallison. I literally ship anything.

If you could build the ultimate paintball/laser tag team from any five characters on Teen Wolf, who’d be on your team and why? Twist: now, choose one Teen Wolf villain who’d be your secret weapon, provided they don’t double-cross you first, mwhahaha.

Mmm okay…(this actually makes me excited!) So for paintball, first of all I’d choose Corey for his ability to disappear and strike from a position unknown to our opponents. Then I would pick Theo, he’s proven to be quite strategic and cunning in mapping out a plan! Peter, because he just no objection to kicking ass, any time any place. Kira, because she can divert the paintballs with her sword (and yes in my mind they would allow her to take the sword onto the field, shh). Braeden, because she’s just a total badass and I just love her. And for my secret weapon I would choose Jackson so he can paralyze the opposing team with his Kanima venom!! Ha!

Jackson would be a total knockout secret weapon. The game would be over in seconds lol! Let’s jump into your works. Like @da-smiley99, our artist last week, you also create a little bit of it all: drabbles, gifs, manips, and incorrect quotes. For you, which would you say is your favorite art form? How do you balance creating them all?

I really love doing the incorrect quotes, they are fun and I enjoy looking for gifs to match!

Whatever inspiration hits first is what I will do, most of the time its manips/aesthetics that I do for other writer’s work. I love appreciating and promoting what people have created because I know the effort that goes into it. There are still so many works I would like to do an edit for!

If your creative process for these pieces was a person, describe him or her to us. What do they do? Wear? Listen to? How do they handle conflict?

She’s running around in a pink fur coat, stilettos, champagne in hand, chocolates stuffed in her cheek yelling “OH MY GOD!” at everything. I imagine her in a clothing store, the clothes being ideas, and she’s just grabbing everything pilling it onto her arm in a heap, eventually losing her balance and falling over. So when the shop assistant (my family) is like “Mam, you need to calm the hell down” she just runs to the next store, her champagne spilling as she wobbles down the sidewalk in the way-too-high stilettos. She probably listens to Taylor Swift in her pink drop top.

And what’s hers (and your) writing Kryptonite? How do you two battle it?

With regards to writing -I come up with the most amazing and original idea for a story and I manage to write one mind blowing paragraph and then I’m stuck. That’s why I take so long to create a story, it just takes me forever to get inspired again. I have a few WIP’s and I don’t know what to do with them!

Creating comes pretty easy and I haven’t had many hiccups while editing. I just suck at making video edits and I honestly wish I was better at it because I have so many ideas! I usually fight writer's block with generous amounts of wine.

If you did become that video-making mastermind, which one of those ideas would you explore first?

I always wanted to do an AU vid of Thiam just living life you know. Id also like to do a “trailer” for these amazing fics that’s been written, kind of like what was done for Airplanes!

I sense a perfect opportunity to practice your videographer skills, mentally, of course! Say you were the Jeff Davis of the Puppy Pack Teen Wolf Spin-Off. Describe your very first and last scene of the pilot episode? How would you put your personal touches on those two scenes?

Personal Touches: A-class lighting because we suffered enough with the ever loving darkness of Teen Wolf. I’d like to see the characters develop more of a personal style, Liam would probably wear more ‘jock’ outfits as he plays varsity lacrosse now. I’d love to put Theo in shorts for a change, maybe an early morning kitchen scene where he is wearing boxer shorts…okay I’m getting distracted.

Eeek! Okay so, the Opening scene would be Theo, Liam and Alec running from hunters, Theo has Liam by the arm, he pushes Liam and Alec into his truck and ducks in behind them. They speed off. Then he starts yelling at Liam “Are you crazy, Li?! I’m getting real tired of saving you!” (que fandom freaking because he is calling him “Li” now) and then at Alec “And you! What the hell did we tell you about sneaking out with Liam!?” Liam and Alec are just out of breath trying not to laugh at Theo. Theo calls Mason to confirm that they are fine.

Closing scene: Liam flops down on the couch in the McCall house, next to Theo (because that’s where he is staying now) “So, uh, thanks for coming to get us today”. “You’re an idiot” but Theo smiles. “How did you find me anyway?” Liam is twiddling his thumbs, “Tracked your scent” Theo gets up abruptly and leaves. Yup it’s going to be a slow burn!

Oooh, and which TW characters would you bring back as cameos or minor characters?

Frikken Danny! I feel like the guy deserved better. So definitely Danny. I’d make him the supernatural privy teacher at the high school. Brett would also come back -as a ghost haunting Liam, especially when Li gets angry then Brett would just be in the corner jabbing insults at him and the pack would look at him like he’s crazy when he yells at the wall to shut up. Scott would make regular appearances. Deaton, Argent and Melissa would be regulars, and I think a guest appearance by Jackson because for some reason they are going to need a vile of his Kanima venom. Kira’s going to come looking for her sword at one point. And Isaac shows up with Scott a few times.

I agree with you about Danny; we needed more of him! We should petition to get you in the writer’s room because I need your ideas to happen!!

How about gifs/manips specifically? Where does your inspiration for those stem from?

I would think of a scene that I really would have loved to happen and then I try to match it as best I can using existing material. Sometimes i would just be scrolling through gifs and I’d be like “oh wait! This with this is perfect!”

Ooh, up for a quick demonstration? Let’s pick one of your favorite fanfiction scenes lately. Which images/thought processes would stick out to you? Any specific gifs come to mind?

So let’s take Airplanes 28 for example. The scene where Liam is weighing up all his options about how to deal with his feelings and Theo asks what his problem is. I would use the scene from S6 in the locker room where Liam is punching the locker, it had a few different shots of Liam being frustrated. For Theo’s part I’d use the scene form 6x16 where he actually says ‘what is wrong with you”. Then I just use the app to edit and merge them and voila.

That’s pretty neat. I didn’t even know you could use apps to mash gifs together! If someone wanted to get started with creating manips/gifs, what advice/steps would you give them?

If you’re doing it from your phone, like me, you have to firstly find the right gif app preferably one that does video to gif and vice versa. There are a few that work really well, so hit me up if you want more detail! I’m also still learning so if anyone has any suggestions let me know.

We’ve chatted about your art for Thiam. Do you also create outside of the Thiam fandom? Original Fiction/Artwork? Other Fandoms?

I used to write and draw when I was younger, the Thiam fandom actually got me back into all of that! I don’t have any of my earlier writing works anymore but I still have drawings.

Aww, can you remember what you liked to write back then?

It was all fictional stories, mostly horrors! I loved writing scary stories, short or long and I would sometimes freak myself out a bit, especially late at night. I remember the one was about a guy whose car ‘broke down’ on a deserted road and he went looking for help at an old farmhouse and couldn't figure out why the people were so weird towards him, so after a few days he left, walking back down the road and he came across his car completely wrecked, his dead body hanging halfway out the door...he was a ghost haha.

Looking ahead, what’s one piece you’re working on that you’re dying for the pack to see?

Yes! This is a snipped of the AU I’m doing for the Movie fest:

-“That’s him,” Corey said nodding in Theo’s direction “that’s the Judo champ”,

By the time Liam realised he had been staring it was too late, Theo’s head was tilted to the side, an amused grin spread across his face as he looked down slowly at this abdomen and then back up at Liam. There was no reason for Liam to deny that Theo Raeken was gorgeous, that he looked like a demigod in the golden light of the street lamps, but this was not the time for these kinds of thoughts. ‘Get it together Liam’, he shook his head as if to rid his mind of Judo Boy.-

I will also attempt some manips for this piece!

Ooh, intriguing. How dare you stop there! I guess we’ll just have to wait until next week, smh. One final anecdote before we wrap up?

Characters often find themselves in situations they aren’t sure they can get themselves out of. When was the last time you found yourself in situation like that and what did you do?

The PA of our department at work tried to sell me sex toys from this ridiculously expensive catalogue and tried to make me have a sex toy party for my birthday because she would get a free gift and commission for it. First I said, but my friends and family ain’t about that life, and she’s like “No I’ll just invite all my friends it's fine” (to my birthday?? Okay bih). So then I said I’ll think about it hoping she’d forget. She didn’t. Eventually I told her that I’m not doing anything for my birthday but thanks.

Oh no, she didn’t! It was your birthday smh. You’re stronger than me! Not only would she convince me to throw the party, I’d have bought at least two things from that freaking catalogue haha! Well, we’re coming to an end, but first, what’s next for you? Both in life and in the creation world?

Career wise I’d like to do a few courses, and really start going into the direction of what I really love, which is anything creative, instead of just doing a 9-5 to pay bills, you know? So I’m going to look for a way to bring these two worlds together so that I can always do what I love. Fandom wise, I really want to do more writing, explore different characters and ships!

And, we’ll be over here, looking forward to more of your writing! Finally, Is there anything else you’d like to say? The floor is all yours. Dance away!

I hardly get to writing my own ideas so I’m reluctant to say that I'll take prompts for fics and frankly I take so long to write that it will be disappointing, however, if someone has a scenario/idea for an incorrect quote, manip or aesthetic requests, I’m all for it! I would love to do it! Other than that i just want to thank this entire fandom, you guys are keeping this ship sailing and its beautiful! Keep doing what you’re doing!

Aww, thank YOU for writing, creating, and giving us a lens into your world! I’ll be looking forward to the day you gift us with all the Thiam videos haha. From there, we give you Glitter-cake20.

As always, you can keep the conversation going; respond to any of her thoughts, ask more questions, send a prompt, or simply swing by for a chat with Sammy anytime. To dive into her works, check out her Tumblr. You can also find her on instagram!

Tumblr: Glitter-cake20

Ask Box: glitter-cake20

Instagram: @spraybitch_chrisberry

That’s all for now, so stay warm, amused, and tuned for next week’s Movie AU edition with @underthegallowws.

Over and Out <3

Get involved in the Behind the Screen series! Have a Thiam Creator you fan over, from any platform (AO3, Tumblr, Wattpad, Instagram, FFN, etc). Please send us their names. Bonus points if you include any questions you’re dying to ask them. Likewise, if you as the creator, would like to be a part of the Behind the Screens series, give us a shout too! We’d love to get to know you, as well.

#thiam #teen wolf #glitter-cake20 #officialthiamlibrary #behind the screens

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revwinchester · 7 years

Text

Centerfold - Part 3

Summary: Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel. He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1498

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official‘s Back To School Challenge! The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine. This is the last part before Cas joins us, y’all!! Also, if one of the scenes looks familiar, I was using a transcript of 4.18 in order to get it just right while I twisted it to fit my story :)

Special thanks to my dearest Night Sloth who reads my stuff before y’all do and assures me it’s decent before I share it.

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Centerfold - Part 3 -

The next morning, Sam got ready for work and left, parking his car just out of sight and waiting for Dean to leave the house. He had decided to follow Dean to the city, despite his brother’s instance, so he had taken the day off of work but he had to keep up appearances if he was going to tail his brother. Not too long after he had left, Sam watched Dean’s car drive by his hiding place and he pulled out to follow.

As Dean drove into the city, Sam rode behind him staying back just far enough that his brother wouldn’t notice him but close enough that he wouldn’t lose sight of the Impala. Once they got into the city, Sam was surprised that Dean drove toward the business district, eventually pulling into a parking garage. Sam parked his car quickly, making it down to the sidewalk in time to see Dean duck into a building across the street.

By the time Sam got inside, Dean was no longer in the lobby but a quick scan of the building’s directory gave Sam an idea as to where his brother had gone. Hot Rod Hotties had offices on the building’s fourth floor. Sam elected to take the stairs, figuring he could hide his entrance better than he could on the elevator, and made his way up, his long legs taking the steps two at a time. When he arrived on the fourth floor, he emerged into the small lobby for the magazine’s offices. He couldn’t see Dean but he could hear him and Sam smiled at the receptionist.

To his surprise, she waved him back toward the offices. Sam didn’t question his luck and followed Dean’s voice, stopping just outside of an open office door to listen.

“So, you book the talent for the magazine? You made that interview with Jimmy Novak a reality?” he heard Dean ask.

A woman answered. “Yeah, Gosh, Jimmy… He never really gets the attention he deserves. All anybody wants to watch anymore is that free hard core stuff, you know? They don’t care about the story. It’s all two minute videos like, ‘Red Headed Bimbo Gets The Pounding She Deserves.’ How do you get anything done in two minutes?” she scoffed. “Please…” Sam could practically hear her eyes rolling.

Sam heard Dean huff. “I know, it’s just so… there’s no story there,” he agreed.

Sam held in a snicker. He could only imagine Dean’s inner turmoil. His brother loved those short snippets just as much, if not more, than the longer films he’d downloaded but, clearly, sharing that wasn’t going to win him any favors here.

“I’m really hoping that my dissertation can shine a light on storytelling in pornography, bring some attention to an under appreciated art form,” Dean continued.

The woman in the office practically squealed. “It really is under appreciated. Thank you! I mean, the best parts are between the sex! Like, in Stuck In The Middle , where Jimmy Novak’s character thought he was going to die… he was on the verge of tears as he professed his love to his best friend and it felt so real…” her voice trailed off and Sam was almost positive he heard her sniffle. “I mean, no offense, but how often do men actually act like that, really let it all out?”

“The orgy that followed really drove that feeling of love home,” Dean joked.

Sam could practically envision the forced grin on his brother’s face and, apparently, the woman in the office didn’t miss it, either.

“Is that supposed to be funny? How do I know you’re legit?”

Sam imagined her getting up in Dean’s face, maybe poking a finger into his chest.

“Lady, this whole thing is funny,” Dean replied, digging his hole even deeper, but then he added, “Look, I’m legit. This isn’t some smart ass paper that’s going to make fun of the industry. I promise you.”

The woman considered Dean for a moment. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face… what do you need?”

“Well, we were talking about Jimmy Novak, How can I get in touch with him?” Dean asked, almost too quickly.

“Oh, um, no…” The woman sputtered, “no, Sorry. I can’t do that.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean pled, “I’m a big fan…”

The office was quiet for a few moments, only a rustling sound coming from inside. Sam wasn’t sure what was going on in there but he was positive that he didn’t care to find out. After a couple of minutes, Sam decided it was time for him to go. Dean could be coming out of that office at any minute and Sam did not want to be there when that happened.

He made his way down to the main lobby, the receptionist on the fourth floor mumbling something about how hot the talent was as he passed. Sam did his best to blend in while he waited for his brother to come down and exit the building. It was another few minutes before Dean did - with a giddy look on his face - and Sam followed him out the door.

Something had gone well in that office, Sam mused as he followed his brother down the street and away from the garage where they had parked their cars. Luckily for Sam, whatever it was had given Dean tunnel vision of a sorts so he didn’t realize that he was being followed through the streets.

Dean turned into a park about two blocks from the office and Sam continued to trail him. He was back far enough to change his course and creep up behind his brother when Dean stopped and sat on a park bench. He watched as Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in a phone number that had been written on a sheet of paper Sam hadn’t noticed while it was clutched in his brother’s hand.

As Dean pressed the phone to his ear, Sam quietly moved closer to him so that he could hear his brother’s phone call.

After a couple of seconds, Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Um… I…” His words were stilted and cut off and after a couple seconds of floundering, Dean pulled his phone away and slammed his thumb onto the red button that ended his call. “Shit…” he muttered and Sam couldn’t hold his laughter back.

Snickering, Sam made his presence known to his brother, plopping down next to him on the bench. “You finally got his number, didn’t you?” he asked, “And you couldn’t even talk to the guy!”

Dean looked at his brother in shock, surprised that he was even there in this moment of spectacular failure. “What? How? What… are you doing here?”

Sam’s laughter doubled at his brother’s confusion and it increased again when Dean scowled at him. Sam forced himself to get under control so that he could answer. “You were being super cagey last night. I knew you weren’t in the city to pick something up for Bobby so I followed you. You weaseled your way into getting Castiel’s number, right?”

Dean tried to summon up some bravado but he knew Sam had heard his phone call. He hung his head as he replied. “Yeah, I got his number from the magazine’s offices in town. And then I totally messed up when I called him,” Dean mumbled. He sighed deeply and added, “But I guess you know all of that if you’ve been following me.”

Sam sobered up at the defeated tone of his brother’s voice. He sat beside Dean, trying to find the words that would comfort him without sending him into retreat mode at the indication that feelings might be on the table for discussion. When that failed him, Sam tried anyway. “Look, I know I’ve given you a hard time about this but, I mean, there are a lot of guys out there, Dean. Don’t let this get to you.”

Dean chuckled darkly. “Sure, Sammy, there are plenty of fish in the sea. It’s not like I haven’t had a crush on this particular fish since high school, or anything.”

Sam didn’t have a response to that so he sat quietly with Dean for a few minutes. “Let’s not waste the day, why don’t we head to the record store or something, at least, maybe grab dinner before we head back,” he offered.

Dean smiled up at him and stood, waiting for Sam to join him on his feet.

Sam knew Dean could spend hours in this particular shop and he wasn’t surprised at all that his brother had made a beeline for the classic rock section. As Dean began leafing through the boxes of old records, Sam could see that his brother already seemed to be feeling a little better. They both knew that the distraction was only a temporary fix - a bandaid, so to speak - but it worked for now. And when Dean wandered into the jazz section, Sam kept his mouth shut.

If you would like to be added to (or removed from) one of my tag lists, please send me an ask and let me know! The lists I’m tagging for this fic are story specific and then my forevers and my Destiel tags (if anyone signs up for that one).

Centerfold Tags: @shutupiminlooove

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass @samwinjarpad @hexparker @thinkwritexpress-official @atc74

Destiel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @deandoesthingstome @manawhaat @thegleegeneration @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @ferferelli @fangirling-instead-of-working @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @curliesallovertheplace @skybinx-blog @purgatoan @impossible-box @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @i-dont-know-how-to-write @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @klaineaholic @hexparker @rockhoochie

#twx school challenge #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #Destiel #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #dean winchester x castiel #fics by Rev

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Note

(1) Hello I am back!! I'm sorry it's been long, these past couple of weeks have had me swamped with homework :( and yet I still didn't do it all 🤡 also get ready for a bunch of messages because 1.) responses and 2.) my thoughts on Lockscreens. Spoiler: I am Emotional haha. Aww, thank you :') I used to think it was weird to give yourselves nicknames but I'm past that now haha. Another one I go by sometimes is "Lizard" because I stick my tongue out a lot when I'm talking??

(2) and people think I'm cold blooded because I get really cold easily and like to bask in the sun. I mostly just did traditonal sketches and a lot of screencap redraws. I want to get into art again, but I'm taking it slow for now and focusing more on my writing. And I feel that too LOL. I'm going to start a blog dedicated to reblogging x reader fics that I like because I'm too embarrassed to do so on my main blog (I tell all of your followers 🤡)

hey Honeymoon! as long as you’re taking care of yourself, that’s all I care about 💞 i’m gonna post my responses into two parts. a Lockscreens segment after you send in the rest of your thoughts and a get-to-know-you part for now!

(also I’M FROM CA TOO AND WHY ON EARTH ARE YOU SENDING ME MESSAGES AT 3AM OML)

ngl, i feel like the best person to give you a nickname is yourself! i jokingly gave myself the nickname ‘Daddy’ and that’s literally become my “rave” personality LMAO. but i can understand why some people think it’s weird 🤷 honestly lizard is a bad-ass nickname !! i’m the same way - being in the cold makes me sooo sleepy and i’d rather bask in the sun 😂

i’d love to see your artwork or writing sometime! please feel free to send it over 🥰

(3) Honestly even with all my issues it's kind of nice being a hopeless romantic! Like you said it gives me the chance to day dream haha. Maybe I have my head in the clouds a lot but sometimes it's nice to be there. There's so many, but I think it's a tie between enemies to lovers and friends to lovers. I love the drama and comedy from the former but I'm so Soft for the latter, and that's highkey how I want my relationship to start.

(4) I think building that bond with someone before you even start dating them is really sweet, and having that connection by the time you commit to each other is 💓 I'm sorry you've been having writers block, that's the worst :( if it helps, the past two chapters have turned out amazing, I love them so much!! I think the closest I got to hardcore shipping something that wasn't canon was RinHaru? But there was also a lot of tension and affection in their relationship so I could see it being canon

there’s nothing wrong with having dreams! just so long as you can ground yourself at the end of the day.

enemies to lovers is always the funniest for me to read TBH. because it’s such an inevitable cliche haha. friends to lovers though -- oooo my heart.

the best relationships start with friendship. it’s the most authentic imo. like for me, it’s exhausting bearing my heart open to new people each time i want to get involved with someone romantically. but having someone who already knows you inside out??? swoon. what about a trope you dislike?

ah tyty, i’m glad you enjoyed them! the writers’ block wasn’t too bad for these chapters. i’ve had them typed up for a few weeks now :’)

rinharu is so cute though! but Harukoto (or whatever the ship name is tbh) is super cute too. but maybe i just really like the best friend to lovers trope LMAO

(5) I just looked at their insta and !!!!!!!!!! that's so cute! I like bokuaka but I've never looked into it as much as others, but their art made me have Feelings lol. I think that is a good view to have on family tbh. I've developed a relationship with my blood family and we're close, but there's something special about the relationships and love you have for people you choose to stay with. I love Tiana!! I think she's a really underrated Disney character :(

(6) She really encompasses Disney's message of working hard to achieve your dreams, and she's a strong, independent woman without being closed off and rejecting her feelings. I think it's so cute and cool that she had that much of an impact on you :D Oof, I get that 💀. Men are gross 🤢 I don't get it very often because I live in SoCal and tbh to a lot of other people brown just equals mexican lol. They're right but I really don't look full mexican. Portuguese and Islander people can tell though

bokuaka art makes me have ~ feelings ~ i also really like @/liann1009 and @/maddox_rider on IG! (tbh idk if they have a tumblr whoops) liann1009 does a lot of OiHina whereas maddox_rider does bokuaka which is ridiculously cute too 🥰

DUDE OMG YES!!! Tiana and Kita (from Atlantis) are under-rated QUEENS who deserved better!! we need representation out here in this b*tch!!!

idek why, but some people think i look hispanic 🙃 but yes bby, men are gross and should be better!! i have yet to meet a man who deserves to stand on equal ground to me, imma be real. (2d men don’t count but y’know). does it bother you when people mistake your ethnicity?

(7) Thank you!! Ngl it's kind of scary wondering about what the industry is going to be like because I'm sure I will run into a lot of biased people and sources, but learning to navigate that is just part of the job. Of course there's people who will read biased sources and attack you too, but you can't always escape those people :/ and thank you love, you're so sweet 💕 That's really admirable! It takes a lot of work and creativity to start a business, I'm sure you'll be successful 😊

(8) what kind were you thinking of? and psych is super cool too! Having that understanding of people and the world can be really eye opening and fun :D It's okay, he was one of my favorite teachers but looking back he was an asshole. He had his good/funny moments and did a lot for me, but he also abused some of editors in my journalism class, and some friends of mine :/ He wouldn't appreciate their work, sometimes insult them, and even encouraged my friend to not sleep for the sake of the paper

i’m positive that you’ll do just fine once you get out there! it seems like you have a pretty thick skin :)

i really wanted to open a business to help support under-represented groups receive an education - with major focus on minority groups such as orphans/foster children, veterans, and the homeless. there’s so much logistics that tbh i’m too ~stressed~ to think about so i’m tabling that for awhile :’)

bruhhh fuck that teacher. drop his addy, i just wanna talk real q 💞 if you can’t support all of your students, then there is no point in being a professor!! there is literally 0 reason to be rude when you’re in a position of power, especially when it involves someone’s passion, career, and/or education.

(9) I just remembered that there's a limit to how many asks you can send in a certain amount of time so if these suddenly stop I'm sorry! I'll come back when I can haha. I wouldn't say I'm all that great tbh, but I'm proud of a lot of my works LOL. My favorite part about it is using makeup and tools to just turn into something else. Wounds are always fun, but making yourself a gargoyle or some other creature is what makes it so interesting to me.

(11) I'm OBSESSED with the makeup and costumes from LOTR. It's my biggest inspiration. I can go on about it haha. That's so cool!! Being a part of the whole production, especially all sides to it, sounds so fun. Do you have any favorite memories from your time in high school? I'd love to hear them if you have any :O Confession: I have never seen any of those asdfkljvk. I know I really should though and it's on my to do list ! I've heard really great things about all of them !

imma be real, i didnt know there was a limits on asks LMAO. i did hear that they sometimes get eaten though, so i really hope that doesn’t happen 😅

we all start somewhere. your first step will never look like someone else’s, nor should it. as long as it’s something that you can look back upon and be proud of and know that you’ve grown from, that’s all that matters!

just imagining someone using makeup to turn themselves into a gargoyle has my head spinning 🤣 like ya girl can barely do her eye-makeup, let alone anything as intense as that! what’s been the most difficult project?

DUDE, I LOVE MEDIEVAL-HISTORICAL WORKS! like the dresses from that Mary from Reign wears has my heart so softtttt. dfsnosdf. please!! tell me some of your fav things about LOTR 💖

omg high-school was so long ago, i don’t think i have any favorite memories from it 🙃 i think the opening night of a production would be the best. listening to the audiences reactions as the performers left their hearts on-stage, seeing all the pieces fall together, that was always absolutely incredible. wbu, what did you enjoy about hs?

i have very strong opinions on those musicals LMAO. i can talk about them forever 🤩

#skye's asks #firebonbon

0 notes

tobegthequestion · 7 years

Text

new clexa fic!

hello friends! i decided to start a new clexa fanfic, a nice slowburn because i love dying. you can also check it out on AO3 here.

you just can’t see it yet - chapter 1

“Oh my God, Anya, can you let it go?” Lexa groans as she pushes herself off the couch, heading into the kitchen both to grab a beer and shake her obnoxious best friend.

“No, I cannot let it go,” Anya huffs, blocking Lexa’s way back out of the kitchen. “You two were together for five years, she can’t just move out one day and leave you a note!”

“Well, evidently she can, since that’s exactly what she did,” Lexa shoves past Anya and propels herself onto the couch, nearly kicking Luna’s head off.

“Oy, heathen, watch it!” she shouts before realizing that she just yelled at Lexa instead of Anya. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were Anya.” Lexa just shrugs, straightening herself up and sidling up next to her other roommate. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” she frowns, resting her head on Luna’s shoulder. Between her two roommates, Luna is by far the most empathetic. Her girlfriend, on the other hand, tends to dish out the tough love.

“Is Anya giving you grief?” Luna asks, not even giving Lexa a chance to respond before yelling into the kitchen, “Babe, stop giving Lexa grief! She’s mourning!”

“She shouldn’t be mourning, she should be letting me kick Costia’s ass for that shit!” Anya growls, the protector in her becoming very clear as she sits down on the arm of the couch. “I mean, what did that note say, exactly? I know you have it memorized.”

“‘Dear Lexa, I don’t love you anymore. I’m moving out, please don’t look for me. Best, Costia,’” Lexa recites, her cheeks going red at how well Anya knows her.

“Oh come on,” Anya whines, “that’s the worst thing ever! What did Clarke and Raven have to say about it?” Lexa casts her eyes downward, observing the swirling patterns intently with her brows furrowed.

“You didn’t tell them?” Luna catches on immediately, looking at her girlfriend over Lexa’s head. “Oh my gosh, she didn’t tell them.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Anya asks, her tone softening drastically. The two women know that if Lexa hasn’t told Clarke, then it’s much more serious than they anticipated.

“Clarke is having problems with Finn, I didn’t want to bother her,” Lexa shrugs as if it makes perfect sense. “And Raven is… well, Raven.”

“You should tell Clarke. You know she wouldn’t judge,” Luna nudges her a little. Lexa smiles weakly and stands up, excusing herself up to her room. She found the note in her and Costia’s apartment almost a week ago, and she’s been moving her things back into Anya and Luna’s apartment ever since. She tried to stay at her old place the first night, but she ended up cuddling Costia’s old pillow and sobbing into it, which Anya found to be incredibly off-putting when she showed up the next morning. Lexa’s never been the type to overshare, but she’s starting to get a nagging feeling in her gut because she hasn’t called Clarke since she came home to a folded piece of paper on her counter. Clarke’s been Lexa’s best friend since middle school, when they both ended up in the nurse's office after a very messy game of kickball. Lexa can’t recall a time where something this big happened in her life and she told someone else before Clarke, so she flops down on her bed face first and pulls her phone out of her back pocket. She presses the phone icon next to the blonde’s contact picture, one of Clarke ruffling her hair with a goofy grin taking over her features.

“Sexy Lexy, what can I do for you?” Clarke’s voice rings through the phone after two rings. Lexa can hear movement on the other side, a crackling sound as if Clarke was rubbing the phone’s mic against fabric.

“I, uh, I have to tell you something,” Lexa mumbles, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Okay, shoot,” she replies, the sound ceasing, signaling to Lexa that the blonde is finally still.

“Costia and I broke up.”

“Wait, what?” Clarke gasps. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah,” Lexa stammers, “she left me a note last week and-”

“She left you a note?” Clarke interrupts. “After five years together, after buying an apartment together, all she could do was leave you a note? What a fucking coward.”

“Clarke, it’s okay-”

“No it’s not,” she cuts her off again, which is abnormal for Clarke. She’s usually a very good listener, and almost never has this strong of a reaction to Lexa’s life problems. “My Lex deserves better,” her tone softens to one that’s sickeningly sweet, Lexa’s nickname flowing off her tongue like drizzling honey.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa keeps her acknowledgement simple, afraid that any more talk of Costia might cause her voice to betray her.

“Hey, do you wanna come over? I know you’re probably sick to death of those girls. Raven and Octavia are away for the weekend, so we can have the apartment to ourselves,” Clarke offers, somehow already knowing that Lexa’s staying at Anya and Luna’s place.

“I’ll be over in ten.”

Lexa decides to walk the two blocks to her best friend’s apartment complex, since she hasn’t been outside in almost 48 hours and the weather is especially nice for March. After getting buzzed in immediately after she rang, the green eyed woman takes the elevator to the twelfth floor, her long fingers drumming nervously on the handrail. As she walks down the hall, her hands slip into the pockets of her peacoat, twiddling with her fingers where the inhabitants of the complex won’t see. Lexa barely has a chance to knock before the wooden door swings open, revealing a casually dressed Clarke, clad in dark grey sweatpants and a “nevertheless, we persist” t-shirt.

“Sorry, I’ve been waiting,” Clarke smiles, leaning one arm against the doorframe.

“Oh, sorry, am I late? I picked up some coffee on the way out of Anya’s building, I didn’t realize it would take me so long-” Lexa’s nervous rambling is cut short when Clarke tenderly wraps her arms around her, enveloping her in a warm and comforting hug. Clarke’s fingers brush nimbly through Lexa’s hair, making her green eyes flutter closed.

“What are you so nervous about?” Clarke pulls away slightly, her signature grin causing her eyes to crinkle ever-so-slightly. “It’s just me.”

“I know, I know,” Lexa shakes her head a little. “The past week, everything has just felt so… wrong.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Clarke brings a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I totally get why you didn’t tell me at first. I know I’ve been all over the place the past few weeks, and I feel terrible that I couldn’t be there for you.” Lexa finds the words catching in her throat as she stares into Clarke’s cerulean gaze, her eyes piercing into a part of her soul she didn’t even know was there.

“It’s okay,” Lexa says meekly. “I know you’ve been having problems with Finn-”

“Please, anything but Finn,” Clarke groans, shimmying out of Lexa’s loose grip and sidling back into the apartment.

“Okay, well I know you’ve been really busy doing commission work, and I didn’t want to get in the way,” Lexa changes the subject as quickly as it came up, but she can’t help but wonder why Clarke was immediate to shut the topic down when she’s usually vocal about her relationships. Very vocal.

“You’re not in the way,” Clarke looks at Lexa over her shoulder, holding up two beers, to which Lexa nods. She knows deep down she shouldn’t be drinking to forget, but what’s one beer, right? Clarke slides the bottle across the counter and Lexa grabs it just before it falls off, placing the cool bottle on the back of her neck in a sorry attempt to relieve the tension. “Incoming,” Clarke shouts and tosses a bottle opener though the air which Lexa catches with ease, brandishing the object in one hand and smiling at the Vancouver engraving. “I see you haven’t lost your softball skills,” she snickers and Lexa rolls her eyes, popping the top off and tosses the top in a perfect arc, sending it into the recycling bin with a clatter.

“You flatter me,” Lexa leans forward on her elbows, her “Clarke smile,” as her friends call it , returning for the first time in over a week. “So what’s new?”

“Well, I’ve got a big piece in the works,” Clarke begins. “It’s for this hot-shot independant contracter who, funnily enough, has the ugliest house on the planet.” Lexa stifles a laugh at Clarke’s unabashed insulting of the man paying her for her work. “He wanted something to show his wife that he loves her, so,” she gestures vaguely to a large canvas covered by a sheet across the room. Lexa quirks an eyebrow for permission and Clarke just shrugs, taking a sip of her beer to contain her nerves. Clarke is perpetually nervous when showing other people her art, especially Lexa. She’s always been a big supporter of her pursuit of art, but she still feels tension churning in her stomach as Lexa peels back the sheet, unveiling the mostly-finished painting. Lexa’s eyes widen at the organized mess of colors outlining a woman holding a silk sheet around herself. The stripes of color blend effortlessly together and surround the woman in the painting, drawing her tan skin forward and allowing the grey sheet sink to the back of the canvas.

“Clarke, this is…” Lexa trails off.

“It needs some work, I know,” Clarke sighs. “I haven’t finished shading her shoulder or the crease of the sheet-”

“Be quiet, it’s beautiful,” Lexa admonishes. “Your work… It always blows me away.”

“Thanks,” Clarke smiles.

“Is that the guy’s wife then?”

“Yeah, I asked him if she’d sit for me,” Clarke replies. “I’ve always liked painting the female form. Gives me an excuse to observe” Lexa tenses ever-so-slightly at the blonde’s nonchalant comment. As far as the five of them know, Clarke is the only one who’s straight, but Lexa’s always had her suspicions. They did share one drunken kiss during a round of truth or dare sophomore year, one that the green eyed woman still feels ghosting her lips, but Clarke’s been dating any man with a pulse ever since, so she’s never had a chance to follow up on her theory. Not that she wants to.

“It looks good,” Lexa swallows, not sure how else to veer away from where Clarke slyly directed the conversation. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but I’m always here for you regarding Finn.”

“I know you are,” Clarke approaches her and sets a hand on her arm, “and I’m thankful, but he’s out of town and I’m trying to enjoy the lack of nagging in my ear. Would you be opposed to eating junk food in front of the TV and cuddling all night?”

“Who could say no to that?” Lexa shakes her head fondly and Clarke pumps a fist in the air, proceeding to rattle off a list of snacks they “just have to have.”

After spending half an hour in the local grocery store, Clarke running around like child grabbing everything with a ridiculous caloric intake, and Lexa looking over her shoulders to make sure her best friend didn’t run into anything, they finally approach the register. Once they place their items on the belt, Lexa offers to pay and hands the older woman working the register her card before Clarke has a chance to say anything, so instead she throws an arm over Lexa’s shoulder, brushing through the thick strands of hair.

“You two make a beautiful couple,” the lady comments with a kind smile.

“Oh, we’re not-” Lexa starts but the words catch in her throat when Clarke slips her hand into Lexa’s.

“Thank you so much,” Clarke smiles widely, her gaze shifting between the cashier and Lexa’s confused expression. She gives the green eyed woman’s hand a little squeeze, which does little to appease Lexa’s rampant confusion.

“How long have you ladies been together?”

“Since high school,” Clarke replies without even thinking about it. “We were best friends first, but we both eventually realized what we really wanted.” Lexa’s jaw drops at the darkened look in Clarke’s blue eyes.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she says moreso to Lexa, handing her back her credit card. “You two have a great evening.”

“Thanks, you too,” Lexa mumbles and uses the grocery bags as an excuse to let go of Clarke’s hand, her palm sweating out of sheer stress as supposed to heat. She grabs the bags as quickly as possible and rushes out to Clarke’s car, leaving the blonde standing dumbfounded at the conveyor belt. Clarke takes a minute to think about what the hell she just did, and her head quickly falls into her hands. What was I thinking? She finally unfreezes and makes a beeline for the door, rushing to the car after her best friend.

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke jogs after the brown eyed woman, who is loading the groceries into the trunk. “Hey, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I guess my imagination got the best of me.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa sighs, turning around and leaning back on the car, “I was just surprised, that’s all.” Clarke just smiles at her before slipping into the driver’s seat, leaving Lexa to wonder why Clarke’s little stunt affected her so much.

“Clarkie, we’re back!” Raven shouts as she comes crashing into the apartment the next afternoon. Lexa had just returned to Anya and Luna’s apartment to go house-hunting, insisting to Clarke that she was fine to do it alone.

“Oh God, please go back,” Clarke groans, barely lifting her head up from the couch, her peripheral allowing her to see Octavia hanging off of Raven like an extra limb, once again exhibiting their inseparability.

“You love us,” Octavia tears herself off of her girlfriend’s body as if it was causing her physical pain before flopping down directly on top of Clarke, the blonde letting out a ridiculous grunt. “How was your weekend, Griff?”

“It was good,” Clarke grits out before she shoves Octavia off of her, sending the dark haired woman rolling onto the floor. “I saw Lexa.”

“Wait, you did?” Raven overhears from the kitchen. “When?”

“She came over yesterday, in the evening, and then she left a few hours ago,” she replies, sitting up after she realizes that she’s going to have to explain the story to her nosy roommates. “Her and Costia broke up.”

“No way,” Raven sits back down next to the blonde, a glass of orange juice in hand. “What happened? I thought they were doing well.”

“I have no idea,” Clarke sighs. “She didn’t really want to get into it, but I do know that she only left a note.”

“Seriously?” Octavia gapes. “What a dick move.”

“I know,” Clarke nods and snatches the orange juice from her friend’s hand, taking a large gulp before Raven smacks her upper arm and takes it back.

“Did you tell her about Finn?” Octavia blurts out and Raven shoots her a silencing glare.

“No, I didn’t,” Clarke bares her teeth ever-so-slightly at Octavia. “She had plenty of her own shit to sift through. I offered to go look at apartments with her today and I was going to talk to her about it then, but she said she could do it alone.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses to me,” Raven raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Piss off,” Clarke rolls her eyes and gets up from the couch, stomping down the hall into her room and slamming the door behind her. The blonde rests her head against the door, lightly banging against it in an attempt to force the whirlwind of thoughts out of her brain. She eventually pulls out her phone and clicks on Messages, then on Finn’s contact, scrolling through their messages from a few days ago.

Clarke [19:21] i just can’t believe you would cheat on me

Finn [19:48] I’m not cheating on you.

Clarke [19:48] yeah, not anymore, but you were and we both know it

Finn [20:12] You have no proof.

Clarke [20:12] it’s not about proof, it’s about the fact that if you’ve been faithful, you should be denying it vehemently instead of saying i can’t prove it

Finn [20:22] I’m not going to keep doing with this you.

Finn [20:23] You want the truth? Fine, I cheated on you.

Finn [20:23] We’ve been together for six months and you’ve never put out. And Bellamy said he had the same problem with you!

Clarke [20:24] you talk to bellamy about me? are you serious? fuck you

Finn [20:31] Yeah, fuck you too.

Finn [20:32] Don’t message me again. I’m done.

Clarke tosses her phone onto her bed and soon follows its path, screaming half-heartedly into the pillows. She lays there thinking about her status with Finn for who knows how long until there’s a hesitant knock on the door.

“Octavia, you and Raven can both fuck off,” Clarke shouts at the door, making no move to get up.

“Uh, it’s me,” Lexa’s timid voice is muffled by the door.

“Shit,” she mutters and opens her bedroom door, revealing a formally-dressed Lexa with her hair in an intricate set of braids.

“Raven called, she said you needed me for something?” Lexa’s adorable smile never fails to cheer Clarke up, and she can’t even muster up enough anger to be mad at Raven for calling Lexa while she was busy.

“I’m sorry, I know you were out doing something, I didn’t ask her to-”

“I know you didn’t,” Lexa chuckles, “Clarke Griffin never asks for help. And besides, you helped me yesterday, so I’ll help you today.” Lexa invites herself into Clarke’s room, kicking off her heels and hanging her jacket on one of the wall hooks before sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the space next to her. “C’mere, sit.” The blonde pads shyly over to the bed, sitting cross-legged facing her best friend.

“What’s up?” Clarke asks lightly, her eyes faltering away from Lexa’s powerful gaze. She’s afraid that if she stares into the green orbs for any longer than she has to, she’ll completely lose herself and let Lexa see all of her, though for a moment, Clarke wonders what’s so wrong with that.

“What happened with Finn?” Lexa inquires, her voice just above a whisper. Clarke bows her head and trains her eyes on the carpet, reluctant to share the incident that she finds embarrassing with her best friend. “Hey, you can tell me,” Lexa places a reassuring hand on Clarke’s knee. “I don’t judge.”

“We- He broke up with me,” Clarke finally looks up at her best friend. “He was cheating on me, and then he had the nerve to dump me. All because I confronted him.” Clarke chokes on the last few words and a few tears spring from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, honey,” the brunette sighs, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist, the two molding together, the feeling reminiscent of coming home after a long day. Clarke eventually stops supporting herself enough to sit up as she cries, sending both of them tumbling back on the bed, but conforming to each other just as easily. Lexa’s nimble fingers run through blond locks, whispering sweet nothings into Clarke’s ear as she falls asleep.

“I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here.”

An obnoxious knock at the door wakes both the women up from their spontaneous evening nap. Clarke groans and lifts her head off of Lexa’s stomach, untangling their legs and sitting up straight. Lexa finds herself shivering at the loss of warmth, reaching blindly around the space beside her for her best friend. The door swings open and reveals a dumbfounded and yet smirking Raven.

“You two do know that it’s gone nine o’clock, right?” Raven asks rhetorically, picking up a stray pillow from the floor and chucking it precisely at Lexa’s torso. “Woods, you babysitters are here.” Clarke hears laughing in the living room, Anya’s distinct cackle ringing out and causing Clarke to shoot up from the bed and jog down the hall.

“Look who it is,” Luna comments when the blonde appears in the wide doorway.

“Griffin decided to show up,” Anya jokes, taking a bite of the pile of food on her plate. Octavia, Anya and Luna all sit gathered around the dining room table, with six places set. Clarke is suddenly hit with the reminder that the six of them were supposed to have dinner together tonight, since it’d been a few weeks since they all saw each other.

“Oh shit,” Clarke gasps. “I totally forgot that was today.” Clarke slides down in the chair next to Luna, the older woman starting a conversation about Clarke’s art. Meanwhile, Raven is mulling over what she just walked in on. Her best friends, that she’s known since high school, tangled up in each other halfway down the bed. The mechanic has always had her suspicions about the two of them, and now that they’re both single…

“Anya!” Raven yells down the hall for her friend. “Come here, I have an idea.”

#you just can't see it yet #clexa #clexa au #clexa fanfic #clexa fic #clarke griffin #lexa #octaven #raven reyes #octavia blake #f/f #f/f ship

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Art Deco // Vatya // 2-? // MotelAdore

A/N: so I made a cover for this fic, not sure if I want to keep it tho? Also, I know katya doesn’t drink but this is a AU, in which anything can happen. This is hella long btw, enjoy the chapter babes!

Warnings: (pretty graphic) smut, cursing, mention of alcohol, slight dom! Katya Pairing: Vatya, cisgirl au

Wednesday came around and Katya was smoking her third cigarette of the day as the doors of the club were opened for her. She stepped inside, music blaring but nobody was drunk just yet. The smell of whisky and expensive parfume entered her nostrils as she continued to walk past everyone.

The dress she was wearing was a dark shade of blue and made of velvet, her hair messy and wavy. Her husbands hand was on her back, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. She looked around the room, spotting some old friends, but she didn’t feel like talking. Katya just thought about Violet, about the young performer that managed to get inside her wary head and never leave. She huffed thinking about her, but the tingling sensation in her stomach didn’t lie.

Violet entered the dressing room again, the sound of music fainting as she closed the door. Tonight was exciting, she finally got a new job that actually offered what she deserved. She quickly switched her shirt and shorts for lingerie, finishing it off with fishnets and black heels.

Her makeup was darker today, but it looked good, Violet always looked good. Tonight she was a little more precise and fixated on her looks though, with the way her hair fell down her shoulders, or the way her lipstick was applied.

She knew it had to do with the Russian woman that somehow made its way into her mind and messed her up all kinds of ways. Violet tried to ignore those thoughts, they couldn’t mess up her performance no matter what. This was her life, dancing and seducing, not catching feelings.

You’re so Art Deco, out on the floor

Violet had chosen a slower song tonight, and she felt like herself again when she dropped the coat she wore to reveal her outfit. She once again swayed her hips, grabbed the pole and starting grinding against it. Innocently batting her eyelashes while scanning the room, winking at tipping men. This was her game, and she always won. No girl, or anyone for that matter, could stop Violet Chachki

Katya wasn’t in the audience that night, as she was sitting out of sight on a soft luxurious sofa with a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The man next to her was bragging about some company he was working with but Katya wasn’t listening, as usual. The music coming for the other side of the room was barely audible while she entered her own little world.

Shining like gun metal, cold and unsure

Violet was disappointed, to say at least, not seeing the blonde anywhere. She was genuinely intrigued by her, and especially after her dirty thoughts that night, she couldn’t shake the woman out of her head.

The bright purple lights shining on her normally gave her confidence, but this time it felt different. She didn’t feel as good, and that angered her. How could she be so effected by someone? Violet tightened the grip on the whip she brought along with her and thanked her past self for those two shots that at least made this a bit better.

Katya’s thoughts went all the way from Russian men to lingerie shopping in Paris and of course the stupid, ‘what’s her name again?’, Violet made an appearance too. Feelings are weird, she concluded, while she imagined the young raven haired girl in front of her, with someone else. Katya got this strange possessive feeling when she realized that Violet could indeed be with some other girl, or guy, right now.

Baby, you’re so ghetto You’re looking to score

‘So I said, how funny; I already met the pig!’

The man laughed, and Katya quickly stood up, after realizing how late it was. All the other showgirls and guys must have left already, maybe including her Violet. Now or never, I guess, she thought.

'Excuse me’

Kat mumbled, putting out her cigarette and walking away from her little hiding spot. She knew what she wanted and now was the time to take matters into her own hands. Violet was about to get it, for being so damn hot and invading her thoughts late at night.

Violet was backstage, a thin layer of sweat covering her body after doing four songs. She dropped her whip and coat on the chair next to the dressing table, kicked her heels off and fell down on a slightly uncomfortable couch. She had sobered down but wasn’t that tired yet, just a bit worn out.

A knock on her door made her scoot up and she frowned, who the hell could it be? Her apparently problematic boss, or some creep wanting an one night stand? They know she doesn’t want anything from anyone after work. She stood up with a dramatic eye roll, while yelling a slightly annoyed 'come in’.

When they all say hello, You try to ignore them 'Cause you want more (why?)

The door opened with a creak and revealed the only woman capable of making her weak in the knees, and Violets heart dropped.

'Hello darling’

The blondes accent was prominent, and she looked like a gorgeous, fuckable mess. Violet quickly gathered herself in order to answer,

'What are you doing here?’

Her tone was classic Violet, bitchy and confident, somehow even right now. She wasn’t going to show that maybe she was slightly intimidated the other woman. Katya smirked, stepping into the room.

'I came to visit you, I liked your performance’

Violet rolled her eyes, 'you weren’t even there.’ She stepped forward, showing an attitude which the blonde seemed to be un effected by, and crossed her arms. Katya laughed, she had a deep raspy laugh, which made Violet slightly uncomfortable. What’s so funny?

'I saw you last week though, you put on quite the show, with that pretty little face of yours’ She moved closer to the raven haired girl, tilting her head while her eyes lingered on her dark painted lips a second too long.

'My name is Katya’

'Oh’ Violet couldn’t get much more out of her mouth, as she felt Katya breathing on her face. Her breath was warm and she was cold, giving her chills. 'Why did you come, besides for telling me something I already know’

Violet asked, looking into her eyes. She was done with this teasing bullshit, even though it just started.

You want more (why?)

Katya grabbed the younger girl’s waist softly, and once again grinned. Violet rolled her eyes, 'I asked you something’ She was eager to be fucked, or left alone. No more games unless they were hers.

'I came for this,’

She whispered, her hands lowering at a fast pace. Violet felt like she was on fire when the other woman touched her. Katya’s thoughts were everywhere again, from the club last week, to the idea of the young girl at her mercy, screaming her name, but they were blocked out as soon as she heard Violet gasp, her body burning with desire as the Russian squeezed her ass. While their lips attacked each other, Katya pushed the other girl against the wall next to them, and Violet choked for air when they let go of each other.

'And this’

Her hands moved up to grab her boobs, her fingers pushing against the thin fabric of the bra Violet was wearing. It was a dark shade of purple and covered in black lace, beautiful but Katya wanted, no needed, it off. Violet let out a soft moan as her boobs were exposed and her bra roughly thrown on the ground. She wasn’t used to this, not being the one in control.

You want more (why?)

They heard people walking in the hallway next to them, while Katya’s mouth found its way around her nipple. Her teeth grazed over it, and Violet bit her lip hard, trying to not let out too much sound. She was sure it was going to leave a bruise, but she didn’t care.

'Shh baby, you don’t want them finding us like this, do you?’

Katya said, her voice low and teasing. Violet tried to keep her cool while everything was messy and blurry and she craved Katya. She couldn’t figure out why this woman had such an effect on her, but nothing could make sense anyways, right? Not while a married Russian ex hooker was giving her hickeys after a show, at least. Katya’s lips left Violet’s neck for a second, using them to give her a quick peck on the lips.

She couldn’t help but notice how good Violets cherry lipgloss mixed with whisky tasted and she wanted to more, pushing herself up against the young girl.

She grabbed her waist, untying her corset as fast as possible and pushing her on the couch. Violet laid down and Katya crawled on top of her.

'I also really wanted this’

Katya whispered into her ear, pushing a long slender finger against Violets panties. Slowly she starting rubbing the girl’s clit through the soft material, leaving her gasping. Violet grabbed the older woman’s hair, pulling it while her other hand explored her body. She slid off her little blue dress, and Katya pullled of her underwear as quick as possible. They both wasted no time, and Violet was pleased with that If she didn’t get any action any time soon she would most definitely explode.

'Cause you want more

Violet noticed how attractive Katya once again was, with her wild hair, red smudged lipstick, while only wearing jewelry. She placed kisses all over her body, massaging her boobs while Katya murmured somethings in Russian, groaning whenever Vi sucked on a sensitive spot.

After a while though, the blonde had enough of not being in control anymore and flipped her over so she could be on top. The music in the background mixing with the sound of kisses, and they felt alive. Violet grabbed Katya’s wrist, pushing her hand towards her panties again.

'Look at you,’

Katya ripped Violets underwear off, pulling down her fishnets while doing so.

'You can’t even wait, can you? Slut’

The young girl moaned, shaking her hips to signal that she indeed didn’t want to wait. Katya stared into her eyes, her fingernails pushing into the soft skin of Violets hips.

'Look at you, you’re such a little brat, aren’t you’

Katya’s voice was low, her eyes dark. She slapped Vi’s ass before opening her legs and sitting down next to the couch on her knees. Her face wandered closer and closer to her body, her blue eyes never leaving violets face as she teased her once more. Violet couldn’t stop herself and pushed Katya’s face against her, not being able to wait. She wanted to be pleased, she wanted to be fucked hard. Katya didn’t hesitate and her tongue immediately flicked over Vi’s pussy in one long stroke, earning a squeal from Violet.

While softly sucking and kitten licking her clit, her long manicured fingers found their way inside of the performer. One, then two, eventually three and Violet shook underneath her stale grip. Sweat was dripping down her thighs and she was panting.

'Do you like being called out like that? Do you like being called a whore?’

Katya’s voice was so belittling and it turned Violet on, she was ashamed about it but she couldn’t hide her feelings when it felt so good.

The music that faintly played in the background had stopped, and the sound of people drunkenly talking got louder. This time Violet didn’t stop herself from moaning and cursing this time though, her mind was blacked out as she let the pleasure take her over. The view of the blonde between her legs, the way her tongue worked on her and the fact that this was a batshit idea, being eaten out by your boss’ wife, were enough to send her over the edge.

Violet choked on air while her eyes rolled back. The room was moving and her legs were shaking while Katya whispered dirty things in Russian with a raspy voice against her pussy. The feeling of hot breath made her squirm. Violet was so sensitive and worn out, Katya was proud of it. She stood up, sitting next to the pale girl, who was still trying to catch her breath.

'I finally made you shut up!’

She grinned and Violet was about to give a sassy remark back, when they heard a voice interrupting them.

'Who’s in there?’

#vatya #violet chachki #katya zamolodchikova #smut #tw cursing #tw smut #tw alcohol #moteladore #rpdr fanfiction #submission #art deco #lesbian au

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