#material girl is stuck in my head though so that record is obviously having no problem

[a-concert-just-for-me]

Ahoy friend! How goes the night?

Well thefreewillagency, you have made a grave mistake asking me this. Behold. It’s 2:00 am. My diary screaming out loud. You know, like Anna Nalick style.

These edibles are, in fact, shit (positive)

I’m most def a little high

[adelheidvonschicksal]

182 Centimeters | Tall!F!Reader x Surprise

A great boon has been bestowed upon Aoi Todo. First, he got to meet Takada in person. Second, he gained a brother. Third, he was able to fight a special grade all in one month.

Is there anything else that could make this trip perfect?

Todo didn't think so until he lays eyes on you, standing in the middle of the hallway with luggage tucked under one arm and the other holding onto a rolling suitcase. He remembers now about Mai mentioning a late edition transfer student who was going to be joining in the school games a little late. He only wishes Mai had warned him about the other thing about you. The fact that you are an amazon in the flesh.

"She has to be 187," Todo thinks upon first seeing you and sizing you up from a respectable distance. "No, she's definitely closer to 185. Definitely, 185," he corrects as he tries to measure you by judging how far your head was away from the top door frame. When he glances down at your feet, he realizes his stupid mistake and smacks himself on the forehead. "I'm such an idiot. I forgot about her shoes." Taking your soles into account, he finally narrows down your height range. You have to be 182cm. An even 6 feet. That makes you taller than even Takada!

Todo's eyes widen upon the realization.

You had half his attraction factor right there; and with his help in training, you would definitely have the second half. He knows plenty of exercises that would make your ass look great and have the rest of your body strong enough to toss any curse. You guys could make training into dates, and dates would lead to the two of you making kissy faces. Aoi can already picture it. Naturally, you'd be admiring him, shirtless and glistening with sweat, unable to take your eyes off him. Then, you'd grow embarrassed when he would call you out on it and try to look away like you were never staring in the first place. Luckily for you, he wouldn't mind if you wanted to look at his chiseled chest a little while longer. Or better yet, touch it. 

Todo isn't sure what he's done to deserve such luck. Perhaps the world is rewarding him for finally breaking his record of 1000 sit-ups in an hour or maybe it's the limited-edition lucky Takada-chan charm that arrived in a mail a week earlier working its magic?

Either way, this might be the best year of his life, Todo decides.

That is until he hears a familiar voice. 

"Hey there! How are you doing?" Yuuji asks loudly as he walks up to your person. Todo should've known. Of course, his brother would sense best girl material walking into the building.

"My name is Yuuji. What's yours?"

"I'm (Name). I'm a new student here. I'm a little lost actually. Could you help me out?"

Even your voice sounds so cute! You were so perfect.

That means Yuuji had no chance with the way he was doing things now. Despite Todo wanting you for himself, he could never leave his brother to make such an embarrassment of himself. If the two of them are to battle for your love, it has to be a fair battle.

"Yeah, the dorms are thi—" Yuuji yelps as he's suddenly tugged away from you and dragged around the nearest corner, leaving you in a confused state where you stood.

"What’s the big idea?" Yuuji asks, breaking free from the grasp that held him.

"I'm trying to save you, brother! What do you think you're doing walking up to a woman like that so casually?" Todo asks.

It takes Yuuji a few seconds to realize that Todo meant you were the woman that couldn't be so casually spoken to since he's fairly sure you're a first-year like him. "I'm pretty sure she's the same age as us, dude."

This is worse than he thought. He's definitely going to have to give Yuuji the rundown on how to properly ask a girl out. "That doesn't matter. She's still a lady that requires finesse if you're going to try to ask her out," Todo says. 

Sadly, they are too busy in their discussion to notice you getting impatient for Yuuji to return or to notice another one of your classmates passing them and heading in your direction. You are just thankful to finally have someone help walk you to your dorm and not ditch you instead.

For the rest of the day, Yuuji is stuck with Todo lecturing in his ear. The first time being at the baseball game against the Kyoto school.

"First, you need to set the mood. And by mood, I mean you need to get her attention on you. Do something to impress her without her knowing you're trying to impress her," Todo instructs as you round home base on long legs, which Todo claims is made for a goddess. You were able to get a score for the team thanks to Fushiguro's sacrifice bunt, and the two of you take a seat in the dugout.

"Shouldn't you be helping your team?" Yuuji asks Todo after seeing him compliment your score. Todo sighs. Obviously, Yuuji needs more lessons. 

Eventually, Yuuji steps up to the plate for his turn. Naturally, he hits a home run. As he rounds home, he sees you applauding loudly. Your eyes perfectly on him. It definitely feels good to have a cute girl's attention, and Yuuji realizes that he did really want to ask you out. He wonders if Todo thinks that's a good way to set the mood.

The next time Todo decides to instruct Yuuji is after they all take their showers and decide to rest up before dinner. "Next, you need to leave a letter under her door. Something to pique her interest and make her want to meet up with you."

Luckily, Yuuji has seen this before in anime. "Right, right. I heard of that actually." He easily drafted a letter and slid it under your dorm door. It sounds like you're talking to someone else on the other side so Yuuji hopes you'll see it in time so the two of you can meet up in fifteen minutes.

"Finally, make sure the place you meet up is scenic," Todo says, nodding his head and closing his eyes to repeat the steps in his head as he follows his brother to the school's courtyard. Impress? Check. Letter? Check. Scenic meet-up place? Check.

It isn't until he feels Yuuji's hand on his shoulder and a quick thanks that Todo realizes his mistake. Yuuji rushes away from him to the other side of the courtyard where you're waiting with the letter in hand. 

"My name is Yuuji. I don't know if you remember me from class."

"Oh, yes, I know! You hit that homerun. It was really great."

Todo stands in shock. 

...He was so busy trying to teach that he actually forgot to pursue you first!

"Really? Thanks! I was just trying to make sure I actually hit it. I wasn't expecting it to go so far." Yuuji laughed. "So, (Name), I was wondering if you wanna go out together?"

Todo could cry. Actually, he already feels the tears coming down his face, but his brother could at least be happy. And if his brother is happy, that's all he needed!

"I'm sorry," you say sweetly. "I only showed up because I didn't want to stand you up, but the truth is I already like someone, and I wouldn't feel comfortable going out with someone when I have a crush on another person."

Todo's ears ring with your words. You already like someone!

"Oh, well, that's too bad, I guess. Thanks for telling me," Yuuji says with a disappointed yet understanding smile while Todo finds the opportunity to scoot in the middle of your conversation.

"Excuse me but your crush wouldn't happen to be on me by any chance?" he asks, hopeful.

You force a smile onto your face and tilt your head. "Sorry...Have we met?" you ask, nervously.

Todo gasps as he feels his world crashing down. Your date. Your marriage. Your kids. All gone, and it’s all black in his memory after that. The next thing he can recall is sitting in the eating area with Itadori. He remembers this heartache once before. "It's just like with Takada-chan..." he mumbles heartbrokenly.

"I told you already. We never went to the same middle school, and you never confessed to Takada," Yuuji grumbles, but Todo knows that Yuuji is only trying to make him feel better. He is so lucky to have such a good brother.

"Who...Who do you think it is anyway?"

Yuuji pauses.

He actually wonders that as well.

Then, they hear your voice ringing through the dining hall. Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. 

"Fushiguro-kun, I wanted to thank you for helping me get settled into the academy. My mom gave me a buy one, get one free for a sushi place for when I made some friends, so...I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one?"

Then, Yuuji finally gets it. He had been ignoring the small conversations happening around him the entire time thanks to Todo's interruptions.

The Hall.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for the dorms. Gojo-sensei was supposed to show me, but he got sidetracked so I've been sort of left on my own."

"Of course, he did. Geeze, that guy." Megumi sighs. "You can follow me. I'll show you where some empty rooms near the other girls are."

"Thank you so much! I'm (Name) by the way."

"Fushiguro," he states plainly and simply as you struggle behind him with your luggage. "Is that stuff heavy? Want me to help you carry it?"

”Yes. My arms got numb while I was waiting. Thank you so much!”

The Game.

"Out!" Gojo says. Fushiguro rounds first base to head back to the dugout, but you at least made it home to score. You head to the dugout as well.

"That's too bad, Fushiguro. You'll get it next time," you say, sitting next to him.

"As long as Kugisaki made it to second and you made it home then it's fine. I'm not really too hyped up on winning anyway."

”Oh. I was really looking forward to seeing you get one.”

”Too bad. Guess you’ll have to wait,” and by “wait” Megumi had meant probably not ever but you laughed anyway even though you had got what he meant. 

”I don’t mind waiting.”

The Dorms.

"Kugisaki-san said you could summon different shikigami animals."

"That's true."

"Would you mind showing me sometime? I love animals."

"What is your favorite?"

"I really like rabbits. Are you able to summon those?"

"Not at the moment, but I’ll show you when I learn it. How do you feel about dogs instead?"

”That cute dog was yours? That’s amazing.”

And now.

"Yeah, sure. I wasn't really in the mood for anything at school anyway," Fushiguro agrees, and your face lights up with a glow that could rival sunshine. Yuuji thinks if he squints he can see the anime hearts starting to dance over your head but Fushiguro didn't seem to mind.

Itadori could almost laugh. That's a new record in anyone ever befriending Fushiguro. The two of you must have hit it off really well. Yuuji smiles. In that case, he couldn't be upset. That must mean fate has something in store for you guys, and he didn't want to get in the way. "I guess girls really do like that cool, quiet type."

Meanwhile, Todo is crying in defeat. How could a woman like you like Fushiguro? 

"He's so boring though..."

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Float Like A Butterfly... Ch.6 ...Sting Like A Bee

Summary: An unexpected ally appears before Marinette. The only problem is, he's stumbled onto something he shouldn't have. And she needs it back.

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

Marinette was having a terrible day.

First she shows up late with the principal accessory of the Gabriel line's Fashion Week showing. Fashion Week! Marinette was looking forward to it all month! 

Next Audrey Bourgeois, Style Queen herself, treats the hat Marinette worked so hard on like gum on the bottom of her shoe. Sure Adrien had been super encouraging but he hadn't seen the look of utter contempt on Audrey Bourgeois face. No one could look that disgusted all the time!

Speaking of Adrien, he didn't make getting over him any easier by being so kind.

And if that wasn't enough Marinette's brain insisted on using Chat Noir's Miraculous to fight the akumatized villain. Again! She didn't want to think about Chat Noir right now because... Because... Marinette blinked rapidly. Deep breath... Because thinking about Chat Noir was painful.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

"Don't worry, Tikki. We'll get the box right after the show," Marinette stage whispered so as to not alert her parents. Who walked not even a meter away.

Tikki let out a concerned whine. Oh, this was a bad idea. She could feel it. Marinette was right that they couldn't get away from her parents beforehand. But that only made Tikki even more anxious to get searching. And Marinette really didn't need something else to worry about on top of... everything else.

She hoped no one found it.

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

Chloe's day was ridiculous. Utterly, ridiculous!

She sat next to her mother as Adrien walked down the runway. Lingering dread squashed and thrown into the very back of her mental walk-in closet where she kept unimportant things. Like shoes she never wore anymore, problematic outfits and lingering guilt that totally wasn't her's. Adrien wasn't slowly disintegrating anymore so why dwell on the past?

Adrien's performance was flawless and Chloe was absolutely certain she appreciated his efforts more than anyone else... Even if Alya Cesaire was livestreaming.

The show went off without a hitch. Adrien seemed fine but then he was almost as good at pretending as she was. Chloe eyed him as Gabriel's lackey, um, assistant pulled him along. Not physically, of course. It was more of a metaphorical pulling.

Ugh, Gabriel Agreste started talking with Chloe's mother through his assistant's tablet. Like, yeah, apologizing to the Queen of Style was a no brainer. But he could have at least come in person! Not like Gabriel was doing anything important besides being the world's richest hermit.

... And Dupain-Cheng was there too. Of course she was. At least her mother would put Dupain-Cheng in her place. Chloe felt herself smirk at the thought.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. As though reading her mind.

Chloe pretended not to notice. No petty satisfactions here! No, sir! But it wasn't like the Queen of Style was going to say anything about Dupain-Cheng's hat except-

"It's the most exceptional thing I've ever seen!" Audrey Bourgeois announced.

Exact- Wait, what!?

"You're a visionary, Marinette! Glitter's had its day..."

Chloe's ears rang, drowning out her mother's voice. Exceptional? Her? Over a- a- a hat!? A vice squeezed Chloe's chest with cruel precision. When her own present was rejected without even unwrapping it!? Chloe's fists shook as she bit her tongue.

"Isn't that nice for your friend, Chloe dearest?" Andre Bourgeois asked.

"It's ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!" Chloe whirled on her mother. "I've never been to New York with you and you're taking Marinette Dupain-Cheng!?" She spat.

"I'm afraid I have a last minute meeting to attend, my dear Audrey," Gabriel announced from the tablet. "Nathalie, bring Adrien home immediately."

Adrien's attention snapped from Chloe to Gabriel. "But, Father, I-"

"Do not embarrass me in front of the Bourgeois," Gabriel snapped, ending the call.

Jaw clenching shut, Adrien stared at nothing with stormy eyes as Nathalie led him away.

"I'm taking her because she's exceptional, Claudette. Uh- Chloe," Audrey stated matter-of-factly, the Agrestes already forgotten.

"I'm exceptional too!" Chloe shot back.

Audrey inspected her white gloves, bored of this exchange. "The only exceptional thing about you, my dear-" Audrey deigned to glance at her daughter. "-is your mother."

Chloe's blood boiled as she shook off Andre's hands on her shoulders, standing straighter. "I'll show you how exceptional I can be!" she promised.

Just as an akuma entered Chloe's present.

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

Alya was having an amazing day!

Her livestreams hadn't gotten this many new views since she almost got sacrificed by Pharaoh. The Ladyblog's activity was up. And Ladybug chose her as the Black Cat!

Sure it was weird that Ladybug didn't want to talk about it. But still! Black Cat! Alya tried to contain her grin as she thought about being Ladybug's partner for a day...

Her pace on the sidewalk slowed, enthusiasm dampening a little... Setting her face in determination Alya skipped into gear. All the more reason to piece together what happened! And she'd start with-

A burst of yellow light shot forth from the Grand Palais. Jolting Alya out of her thoughts as the newest akuma victim gave their villain speech from the roof.

"I am Queen Glitter! And from now on the only exceptional person in Paris will be me!"

Alya ran... straight for the villain who was obviously Chloe as she summoned a cloud of glitter and shapped it into a collection of accessories. The constructs restricting the movement of whoever they landed on. Scarves wrapping people's legs together or tying them to lampposts. Hats covering people's eyes as they tried to yank them off. There was even someone with his hands stuck in high heels. Queen Glitter made a giant floating scarf to stand on and took off in a random direction; leaving a trail of gaudy accessories in her wake.

Great. It was going to take forever to catch up to her now! Taking cover in an alleyway so Queen Glitter's sparkly formal wear wouldn't notice her, Alya scanned the street. Mentally kicking herself for not having recorded the villain speech for the Ladyblog.

"Looks like you're raring to go," Ladybug observed as she landed next to Alya. A familiar box in her hand.

"Ladybug! Didn't think I'd be helping out again so soon!" Alya held out her palm and Ladybug placed the Black Cat Miraculous in her hands again.

"Y'know the drill, right?" Ladybug's eyes wandered to the people in various states of running-for-their-lives.

"Give it back when we're done and don't take it personally," Alya paraphrased as Plagg emerged in a ball of light when she placed the ring on her finger.

"Ladyblog girl again?” Plagg gave her a once over. Ears flat against his head but swishing tail betraying his apprehension. "Well, at least Alya's not blue boy."

“He wasn’t that-“ Ladybug shook her head. “Y’know what, never mind.”

Glancing between them Alya filed that tidbit away for later. "C'mon, Plagg. We did great together!"

"You were okay," Plagg acknowledged. "Could've used more cat puns."

Alya chuckled. Of course he'd like those. With a -slightly forced- encouraging smile from Ladybug, Alya called out: “Plagg, transforme-moi!”

Green lightning traveled from Chat Noir’s ring across both arms and down her torso. A green sash wrapping around her waist and trailing into a tail. Running her clawed gloves through her hair as cat ears materialized. Said hair puffing up into an afro. Armor padding her shoulders and torso. Alya flexed her fingers to get used to the feeling. Chat Ombre's suit still felt strange on her skin compared to Rena Rouge.

Ladybug leapt onto the rooftops and Chat Ombre followed her lead. Racing towards the villain while avoiding her glitter. "So what's the plan?"

"Queen Glitter is basically a reskin of Style Queen," Ladybug thought aloud.

"But without that annoying habit of turning into a cloud!" Chat Ombre supplied.

Ladybug launched her yo-yo at a pedestrian and yanked him away from Queen Glitter's constructs as they passed by. "But she can spread her power over a wider area."

"Don't worry, Ladybug. We'll be- Look out!" Alya tackled Ladybug out of the way as a trio of glittery top hats zoomed past.

"Your reign is over Ladybug and wannabe Chat Noir!" Queen Glitter announced as she floated over them. Her appearance was similar to Style Queen except her crown was even bigger and gaudier. A foux glitter scarf around her shoulders. "I don't even care if you don't give me your Miraculous! I'll simply immobilize you and take them by force!"

They evaded a flurry of coats by jumping down to the street. "Really?" Chat Ombre called out. "That all you can throw at us? A tacky outfit?"

"Wouldn't be the first time!" Ladybug agreed.

"No one ever appreciates my gifts!" Queen Glitter stomped her foot. "Fine then. Why don't we try something more expensive!" Raising her hands she lifted two cars wrapped with giant bows into the air.

Alya's eyes widened. "Oh, shi-" Chat Ombre evaded Chloe's attacks as the villain played wack-a-chat. Glitter accessories flying in and attempting to restrict their movements as well.

Ladybug wrapped one of the vehicles with her yo-yo and spun it back at Queen Glitter.

The bright red sports car hurled towards her and- She stopped it with the palm of her hand. "You'll have to do better than that if- Where'd you go!?" Queen Glitter scanned the empty street, rising higher for a better vantage point.

Chat Ombre locked eyes with her for a second before a chimney obscured her line of sight. "Somehow I don't think that bought us much time." Alya voiced as a wave of clothing rose over the city.

Ladybug spotted a strip of blue between the rooftops. Thinking quickly, Marinette grabbed Alya's hand and turned them towards the Seine. Diving into its waters with a torrent of glitter in their wake.

Queen Glitter's constructs crashed into the river and washed away with the current.

Chat Ombre made for the surface once it was clear but Ladybug pulled her back. Chat's staff in her hand and yo-yo on her face. Pointing towards the magic tool Ladybug offered it to Alya.

Nodding, Alya quickly pressed it to her lips and took a deep breath, sweet oxygen filling her lungs. Giving Ladybug a thumbs up once she didn't feel like her chest was on fire.

Grabbing her hand Ladybug led Alya further upstream until they found a boat.

Gasping the (relatively) fresh air Alya examined Chat's staff. "I didn't know it could do that."

"Yeah, the Miraculous are full of surprises. And we'll need one of our own to beat Queen Glitter. Lucky Charm!"

A spotted snorkel fell into Ladybug's hands.

"Don't we already have one of those?" Chat Ombre asked.

Ladybug's brow furrowed as she stared at it. "Yeah... Wait, Queen Glitter's powers don't work underwater!"

"So, all we need to do is get her there!" 

Ladybug glanced at a pair of recycling bins. "And I know just how to sneak up on her."

Chat Ombre grinned. She liked this plan.

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

Chat Ombre hated this plan!

It had all gone smoothly. The glitter constructs ignoring the recycling bins they used as disguises. Snake style. Chloe was dumbfounded when she saw them. Enough to let them take the elevator up to the Grand Paris' rooftop where Queen Glitter set up her makeshift throne. Giving them the opportunity to tackle her towards the Seine.

Unfortunately, Queen Glitter could make constructs of any size. Like, for example, a wide brimmed hat big enough to stretch from either bank of the Seine.

"You were going to make me wear this?" Queen Glitter held up the Lucky Charm- "No thanks!" -and struck it across her knee.

Alya winced as the villain broke Ladybug's insta-win button in half. "Please, tell me you have a plan?" Chat Ombre glanced at the spotted hero currently wrapped up in an extra long scarf just like she was. The floating constructs squeezing just a little bit more as Ladybug struggled against them. Alya tried bending her wrist to Cataclysm her restraints but her right hand was held away from the rest of her body.

"No planning! Not that it'll do you any good. I've already won! Me! Queen Glitter! MWAHAHAHAH- Do you mind? I'm trying to savour the moment!" Chloe snapped as Papillon's emblem glowed over her face.

Alya's head turned from an increasingly frantic Ladybug to the annoyed villain.

"Of course I'm going to take their Miraculous! Why wouldn't I take their Miraculous?"

"An excellent question, your Highness!"

Three pairs of eyes snapped towards the source of the unexpected voice.

"... Who the heck are you supposed to be?" Queen Glitter demanded.

"Aristos! At your service!" He bowed with a flourish, giving Alya a good look at the bee shaped comb at the base of his ponytail. Blond hair highlighted with black stripes. Goggles obscuring his face, making his green eyes hard to read despite the grin on his lips. Suit mostly yellow with black, V-shaped stripes on his torso, forearms and lower legs. Three hexagons on his chest giving the impression of honeycombs.

"No no no no no no." Ladybug stared at Aristos, not realizing that she was speaking aloud.

...Well, that can't be good, Alya thought.

"Ha! Did you really think more insects would help, Ladybug?" The villain mocked. Her constructs closing in on the interloper.

Aristos' smile took on a darker edge. "I'm not with her, your Majesty. I'm here to pledge myself to the most exceptional Queen I've ever seen! Really, where does Papillon get off talking to such a glittery figure as your Highness like that?"

Alya blinked. Really? Even Chloe wouldn't fall for-

Raising her hand the villain halted her constructs' advance. "Hmm, well at least you know how to treat royalty." Queen Glitter offered her bejeweled fingers. "I guess you can be my underling."

Ah. Right. Never underestimate the power of Chloe's ego.

The Bee, Alya was ninety-nine percent sure he was the Bee, took Chloe's offered hand and leaned down. Lips hovering over the back of her hand. "Oh! That reminds me your Highness, I have a gift for you."

Queen Glitter's eyes shone. "A present? For me? It better be the latest- Ow! I'm getting to that!" She snapped at Papillon, looking away from the Bee to glare at the absent supervillain.

Aristos removed the striped top Alya recognized as his Miraculous tool from around his waist.

"You didn't beat them! I did!"

Casually, carefully, Aristos placed his top on Queen Glitter's hand. Point against her glittering skin.

"You couldn't do it yourself so you sent me!"

"Venom," the Bee breathed.

"What was-"

Queen Glitter froze as Aristos' top glowed; his power paralyzing her. The constructs bursting into clouds of glitter. Chat Ombre landed in a crouch as her restraints vanished.

"It worked." Aristos sounded as surprised as Alya felt. "It worked! Yes! Nailed it!" He pumped his fist as relief overflowed and- Was he crying?. "Independent hero debut successful!"

"What?" Ladybug was staring at the Bee apprehensively and that didn't help Alya's nerves.

Aristos' mood instantly became more subdued. Blinking rapidly to get the water out of his eyes. "Oh, right. You're still here."

Chat Ombre tried not to take that personally. He did just save them, after all.

Ladybug stepped forward. Voice even, diplomatic. Never mind that she seemed this close to freaking out. "Listen, Aristos was it? I don't know how you found that Miraculous but you have to give it back."

His face was disturbingly neutral. "...Don't I get a 'thank you' for saving the day?"

The tension in Ladybug's shoulders wouldn't budge. "Thank you, but I really need that Miraculous back." She held out her hand.

Aristos stared at Ladybug's hand like it was something alien. Cracks appearing in his facade. "Yeah, pass."  Walking backwards, away from Ladybug and Chat Ombre, he kept them in his field of vision.

"Wh- The- Y-you can't just decide that!" Ladybug sputtered, stepping forward.

"Just did! How do I even know this Miraculous is even yours?" Aristos asked, increasing the distance between them.

Alya got the distinct impression that he was bullshitting them.

"I'm the one who lost it!"

Alya's eyes widened. "You lost a Miraculous?"

"Not helping, Chat!"

Aristos' features twitched, eyes narrowing. "Sure you say it's yours but how do I know that?"

Chat Ombre bristled at the implication. "Ladybug is the Hero of Paris!"

Aristos gave her a once-over, his expression inscrutable, but said nothing.

Wow. Rude.

"That Miraculous belongs to the G- to me."

"That's interesting because I say it belongs to me." Aristos laid a hand on his chest. "Looks like it's your word against mine. Guess which one I'm choosing?"

Ladybug's yo-yo was suddenly spinning in her hand. "I swear, I'm not gonna lose another-"

An insistent beeping from Ladybug's earrings interrupted her.

"Welp! Love to stay and dance but it looks like you two need to buzz off before your precious identities are exposed to little old me."

Why did he sound bitter? Everything about him made Alya's head spin with questions. Not least of which being how the heck someone holding the Bee Miraculous showed up in the first place.

Taking his top, Aristos hopped onto the edge of the Grand Paris' roof. "Might want to deal with her before that happens."

Alya looked to where he was pointing to see Queen Glitter still paralyzed. When she glanced back at the Bee he was gone.

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

Adrien's day sucked.

Paris Fashion Week was always a chore but this year was even worse. Despite having friends around he felt lonelier than ever. Getting to talk to Marinette only helped so much. Adrien was still expected to plaster on a smile and represent 'the brand'.

And that was before he got turned into a freaking statue!

At least it's better than mind control.

Shut up!

He did not want to see Ladybug or her new partner up close and personal! Thank you, very much! But like always what Adrien wanted didn't matter.

Imagine his surprise when a Miraculous practically falls into his lap. A familiar glow blooming in his chest against all reason as Adrien opens the box.

"Hello, my King," the unknown, bee-like kwami greets formally.

There's a turning in his stomach that Adrien tries his best to calm it. "H-hi! I'm Adrien. What's your name?"

"I am Pollen," she bowed. "Kwami of Subjection. An honor to meet you. It has been a long time since I've had a king."

"Just Adrien is fine." Taking the Miraculous, a comb of all things, out of it's box Adrien stares at it. It's disguise all black and only vaguely shaped like a bee compared to the details he glimpsed before Pollen came out.

"Of course, my King."

Adrien sighed. Pollen was nothing like Plagg. Then again, Adrien wasn't sure the world could survive two of him. The lazy little jerk was enough to drive any Guardian mad all by himself... God, he missed Plagg.

"Um, anyway, how does your power work?"

Pollen clapped her small appendages together. "It's very straightforward, my King. You simply call out 'Venom' and your top will activate. Then strike your opponent with the point and they'll be paralyzed for however long you desire." She whooshed toward him for emphasis.

"Paralyze..." That was certainly more straightforward than using Cataclysm.

'Cause you sucked at that, didn't you?

Shut up. This was... What was he doing? When Adrien held the Bee in his hands he felt... Alive. Like a promise that things could be better this time around.

Adrien jumped as insistent knocking on his changing room door startled him out of his thoughts.

"M. Agreste? Mme. Sancoeur says we're back on in five."

"Be right out!" Brushing the Miraculous with his thumb to make sure it was really there Adrien placed it in his pocket. Hesitating for a moment he offered his jacket to Pollen.

Nodding, she zoomed into Plagg's old hiding place.

Taking a deep breath, Adrien opened the door. "Let's get this over with."

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

Adrien ran off as soon as Papillon's mark appeared on Chloe's face. Catching Marinette doing the same from the corner of his eye. Glass raining down as Queen Glitter broke through the Grand Palais' roof.

Pollen zipping out as he tied his hair into a makeshift ponytail. Holding it in place with the Bee Miraculous.

"Quickly, my King! Say 'Pollen, transforme-moi'!"

Adrien stared at her. He could hear screaming as people ran.

"My King!"

His oldest friend just got akumatized for the second time.

"My King!"

All he had to do was speak!

"Adrien!"

His knees shook as his back hit the wall behind him for support. "But... I wasn't chosen."

Pollen floated higher as her eyes widened in surprise. "Weren't you given my Miraculous?"

Adrien shook his head. "I f-found it... After giving up the Black Cat."

This time Pollen dipped as she nearly fell out of the air. "Chat Noir."

Adrien shook his head even more emphatically. Hands going up to cover his face. "N-no! Not him! Can't be him!" he choked.

Pollen laid her hand on his and Adrien tensed at the touch. "My King."

Something in her voice made Adrien look at her.

"You wish to help, do you not?"

"... Yes."

Pollen's eyes softened. "Then help."

Adrien stared at her. So sure that she'd want nothing to do with him once she knew what a failure he was... But that wasn't the case.

Rising shakily to his feet Adrien gave Pollen a grateful smile. "Pollen, transforme-moi'."

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

Aristos panted as he glanced up from the alleyway. Spotting no pursuers. "Pollen, detransforme-moi."

Landing on Adrien's outstretched palms, Pollen beamed tiredly at him. "Excellent work, my King."

Adrien smiled back. "Oh! What do you eat? Plagg loves Camembert but..."

"That would be fine. However, I prefer something sweeter."

"Yeah..." A weight settled on his chest. "Let's see what we can find..."

Pollen frowned. "Is something wrong, my King?"

Adrien avoided her gaze. What was he supposed to say? That disobeying Ladybug felt wrong? That he almost let his guilt and resentment make him say cruel things to his replacement? That his heart wouldn't stop pounding? "It's just... Do you want to go back?"

Pollen blinked.

"You're supposed to listen to the Guardian, right?" Adrien bit his lip as his heart tried jumping up his throat. "It's not fair of me to keep you if you want to go back."

Pollen sat up on his palms. "I have been in the Miracle Box for a long time, my King. I can think of worse things than spending what time I have outside it with you."

Adrien's eyes burned as he wiped away tears. "Thanks, Pollen."

Ladybugs swirled in the sky as they repaired the city.

"Of course, my King," Pollen smiled.

"Call me Adrien."

"Yes, my King."

Adrien sighed. A smile coming to his lips. Looks like Aristos was sticking around for a while.

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

Retroactively giving Black Cat Alya an afro.

[deepspacedukat]

I do really want to know your reasoning on the Cardassians because sometimes I just go ✨PRETTY✨ and have absolutely no other thoughts. It’s a little embarrassing.

But also, if you were stuck somewhere for like a year who would you pick to live with from Trek and why? I’m picking Jadzia, Kira, Dr. Bashir, and Rom. Also Garak because then I could learn how to sew better.

-Horta-in-Charge

Look, honestly, sometimes the ✨pretty✨ reaction is all I have too lol. Okay, so for the placement reasoning:

Fuck: Garak - The man would absolutely know what he was doing, but I feel like because of his Obsidian Order past he wouldn’t necessarily feel comfortable with something as traceable as a marriage record revealing that he had a weakness (aka his s/o). The sex though...the sex. Not giving that up! Dukat - I mean, the man would know his way around, if you know what I mean. The guy has multiple children so obviously he knows what he’s doing. Might not be smart to marry a villain, but to be his good little slut...? *nods head sagely* Madred - Look, he’s evil. He tortured Picard. But...also...I would let him rail me till I couldn’t stand. No logic on this one. Just ✨dirty thoughts.✨

Marry: Macet - He doesn’t seem as bad as his cousin, and he’s still got the sexy voice, so um...Yeah. Not really any logic with this one either. Just would absolutely take pretty lizard’s last name. Daro - I mean, this one to me is obvious. He seems like he’d be sweet and protective and just perfect husband material, so...yep. We don’t even have an official first name for him, but I’d take his last name. Damar - Ok, so...no logic for this one either...He’s a big, pretty, square lizard. And I’d go there. Tekeny Ghemor - He’s a widower and he’s a very sweet man. 10/10 would call him daddy in bed and take his last name. He also feels like the type of person who would be v protective of the person he loved and since he’s obviously had a kid, he knows what he’s doing in bed...

Kiss: Telle - Tbh, he wasn’t my favorite Cardassian, but he was still cute and rather square. 100% would give this lizard a smooch. Boheeka - Look. LOOK. This man deserved better than the Order making him disappear for Quark’s requisition code. Add that to his slutty little comment about a Dabo girl almost bankrupting him, and I’d definitely kiss him. Also, he’s pretty, so... Ari - This good boy just wanted to protect Iliana!Kira and for Cardassia to have a better future. HE DESERVED BETTER. 10000/10 would smooch. Entek - Bad Lizard™ but would I let him pin me up against a wall and kiss me like a back alley whore? Yes. No logic. Only ✨pretty✨

Hug: Mavek - He was on Terok Nor during the Dominion’s occupation of said station, and he was sweet enough to bring Major Kira her coffee every morning. Look. Any guy who remembers AWAKE JUICE for somebody EVERY DAY has EARNED a hug. At minimum.

Kill: Evek - Look. I have strong feelings about Cardassians. For some reason, he evokes a very visceral reaction. Also I’m convinced he’s one of the ones who suggested the Central Command try to blame Dukat for the weapon smuggling in “The Maquis” Parts 1&2. R.I.P. Danar - Idk why I have this reaction with him?? So many of Vaughn Armstrong’s characters are calming or just give me a different reaction, but with Danar, I...I don’t know. Confusion lizard. R.I.P.

As for your second question, oooooh, I love that idea! I’ll do 5 people since you chose 5.

If it can be anyone from any Trek series, I’d say... Shran, Julian Bashir, Spock, Malcolm Reed, and Dukat (for chaos and laughs). Would we survive? Probably not. Would it be fun? Yes (for me; I guarantee nobody else’s enjoyment but my own).

If it can only be DS9 characters...Bashir, O’Brien, Martok, Garak, and Dukat (again, for chaos and laughs). 

Are both those sets reverse harem situations in my brain? ...Perhaps...

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // TWO

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3! 

part one here!

read on till the end for notes! 

SAWBONES

TWO // PULLED TAUGHT

No.

You hadn’t been avoiding him.

You were busy. Taking inventory, filling out incident reports, stocking, taking care of your patients - which, you noticed, had decreased in number over the last couple days. And you knew why.

Someone must’ve been taking better care of their pilots.

Jasti was released the morning after the whole - for lack of a better term - ordeal. She’d heard your violent retching and had banged on the door, asking if you were okay.

Your vision was white, and after about two rounds you were dry heaving. No fucking way, your mind rattled. The revelation shook you to your core. You were happy being unsuspecting, ignorant of the fact that your soulmate had been pittering around D’Qar for literal months while you sat in your office, pissing off FX-7 and berating their antics in your head. The furrow of his eyebrows, the flicker of concern in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor when you saw his pinky also had ingrained itself in your mind. Lingered every time you shut your eyes. You must’ve stayed in the refresher for an hour or two, senses numbed to Jasti’s incessant banging on the door.

You also weren’t good with conflict, and a conflict this was indeed.

What were you supposed to do? Tell him? Would he even believe you? Ziff said he didn’t trust the concept anymore, too many girls taking advantage of where he once was soft. Exploited that weakness until it was solid beskar.

So no, you didn’t tell him.

You’d stayed busy. He was busy, too. Per your objections, Leia had him and his squadrons flying more recon and actually formulating a real operation to investigate the cargo ship orbiting around Kessel. You’d heard that from whispers in the hallway, and you didn’t really want to venture out for any updates.

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Poe was dragging a pilot from blue squadron into your medbay, one of their arms around his shoulder, one of his around their waist. His eyes were searching, panicked until they met yours as you flew from your office and threw the pilot onto the first open bed.

“What happened?” You asked, immediately checking for vitals. His skin was burning, clammy. FX-7 recorded his temperature and your heart dropped at the number.

“We were flying back, literally leaving hyperdrive when I was notified Blue Three was having trouble, and could barely steer his x-wing through D’Qar’s orbit.” Poe paused. “His skin is on fire.”

“I’m aware,” you tried not to bite back as you threw FX-7 an IV bag. You also did not dwell on the fact that Poe didn’t even know this pilot’s name. “Do we have hadeira serum?”

“You did inventory,” FX-7 duly responded as he inserted a needle into the pilot’s basilic vein. Poe cringed and looked away, eyes focused on you instead.

You hadn’t really done inventory, and you were cursing yourself for it now.

“Wait,” Poe frowned. “Hadeira? You think he’s got bloodburn?”

“He’s been in with a fever before,” you muttered as you rifled through the cabinet on the opposite wall. Poe followed, barking over your shoulder.

“And you didn’t ground him?”

You paused, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to your search. You really didn’t need Dameron on his high horse right now, questioning your calls.

It was only fair. You had done it to him, you reminded yourself. That didn’t mean you couldn’t whip around and land one in the middle of his chiseled, ridiculously handsome and symmetrical face. You groaned audibly at not only your thoughts, but your inability to locate the literal life-saving serum.

“Back off, Dameron,” you said between your teeth as you all but sprinted back into your office where you kept the more valuable medicines. You unlocked the closet behind your desk with your hand and entered, eyes scanning the shelves. Once again, Poe followed.

“What’s wrong, doc? Don’t like it when people question your authority?”

You finally turned to him, slightly put off by the fact he was less than a meter away. You didn’t let it show.

“You wanna do this right now?” You raised your eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and the thread around his pinky was directly in your field of vision. You held back the bile that rose in the back of your throat.

“His fever is so high that his blood is boiling right now. Which will kill him. So please, Dameron. If you think this argument is worth more than me finding the serum and saving his life,” you punctuated each word, “keep talking. But I’m not listening.”

Your eyes caught the vials to the right of his head, and he stepped out of the closet and into the expanse of your office as you grabbed the vials and quickly returned to the medbay where FX-7 had started hydrating the pilot. You handed the droid the hadeira serum and FX-7 made quick work of administering.

You let out a long breath. You weren’t totally in the clear, but it was as under control as it could be. Poe gave you a look and you nodded, silently telling him his pilot was okay. For now.

Poe stared at him for a couple moments longer, and once he was satisfied leaving him in the care of FX-7, he kicked your boot lightly.

“Can we talk now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and led him back into your office. Poe sat down in one of the stark white chairs that matched the rest of your office as you locked the medicine closet. You turned around to him but kept your distance.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from grinning. “I don’t bite, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless moved closer to him and sat atop your desk.

The red thread floated between the both of you, moving as if it was being jostled by the air currents in the room. Before you could even think, your left hand went to pluck at the string tied near the base of your finger. To your utmost surprise, the now tangible string pulled back due to your force. You let go in shock. The string vibrated and you watched the movement travel to shake the thread connecting to Poe. He coughed, left hand clenching and unclenching his fingers. You watched the action and met his eyes. Once again, he furrowed his brows.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows, and Poe continued, “Y’know. Looking into space and then turning pale like there’s a rancor in here that I don’t see. And then you look at me like it’s my fault?"

It’s now or never, you told yourself. Come clean.

“It’s nothing.” Coward.

Poe dropped the subject. “Anyways, you must’ve been swamped these last few days because you haven’t checked in to hear any updates on the cargo ship.”

Not trusting your voice, you just shrugged as your eyes rested back on the crimson that connected the two of you. Seeing it was definitely a curse. You tried not to dwell on how different things would be if it was Poe that could see it. What a weight off your shoulders that would be.

Maybe if he could see it, it wouldn’t be you on the other end, the voice in head told you. Poe was still rambling about Kessel and you definitely weren’t listening. You don’t want that, do you? For him to be soulmates with someone else?

It happened all the time though, people ending up with those who they weren’t tethered to. The galaxy was far too huge and vast, many people never having the opportunity to leave their home planet, let alone venture and seek out their soulmate. Some people, Poe included now, saw it as a myth, it was becoming so rare. You’d only ever known one pair of soulmates to meet in the years you’d been alive. Your parents.

Either way, your mind needed to slow down. You didn’t know Poe. From what you’ve seen of him, despite his impeccable physical features, you weren’t really a fan. But...just regarding his physical features? Big fan.

He snapped you out of your reverie. “Stars, you are infuriating.”

You apologized, placing your hands in the front pockets of your medic coat in hopes to ignore the thread, but it stuck out of the material of your pocket instead.

“There’s no harm in collecting more intel,” you told him. “Especially if it saves lives.”

He rubbed his forehead. “There is if it’s time sensitive! The ship could leave Kessel at any moment and then we’ll never know what was on it.”

You snorted. “You said it’s been in your knowledge for a while, been written off until now. I don’t buy it. I don’t know what you’re wanting from me, Dameron, but I won’t apologize. This is how I feel, and General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo agree with me.”

“I want a common ground,” he said. Your gut twisted. “We met not ten minutes before you blasted me to pieces in that briefing room.”

“I don’t think you’re used to opposition.”

“I’m not.”

“You should always consider every point of view, especially for things like this. Have you heard about the terror running the First Order? You really want to face him in your little x-wing?”

Poe jerked his head. “Do not insult my ship.”

“Stars, Dameron, can you listen to a voice that isn’t your own for five seconds?”

“I was listening, obviously, ‘cause I heard your jab about my ship.” You could force-choke him right now. “But I get where you’re coming from. Where you’re more conservative and safe, I’m intuitive and risky and you hate it,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.

“I would call it impulsive and ill-informed,” you countered. You definitely didn’t hate bantering with him. You noticed subtly that over the course of the conversation, Poe had begun to move closer to you, inching closer and closer to the edge of the chair.

“Astute and adept,” he stood, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes never left yours.

“Reckless and arrogant.” You didn’t want him to come any closer, unsure if you would either retch all over his shoes or bunch up the material of his brown leather jacket in your grip to pull him closer.

As if the stars were listening and answered, FX-7 appeared in the doorway. Your eyes broke from Poe’s, turning your attention to the droid and Poe followed suit.

“Pilot Nunb’s fever has broken,” it said. “He will make it through the night.”

Night? You realized you’d been so consumed the last couple days you’d lost all concept of time.

“Great news,” Poe said, turning from FX-7 back to you. “I need to go tell the rest of blue squadron.” Poe shamelessly looked you up and down.

“‘Till next time, Doc.”

Poe sidestepped the droid in the doorway without another glance at you. You remained on your desk, hands still in your pockets as you watched the thread disappear into the wall as Poe left.

“It is hardly relevant to speak in matters that pertain to humans,” FX-7 began, “let alone ones that concern my superior, but if I may?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion. FX-7 never spoke to you unless it was a medical matter. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“You are consumed with plenty. I caution against adding Commander Dameron to the list.”

You frowned. “FX, do you know about the soulmate thread?” What harm would it be to tell a droid? FX barely talked to you, and chances were zero that the droid would air this to anyone else.

The droid lifted its metal head up and down. “Yes.”

It was the most humanistic the droid had ever been, and you felt mildly miffed. Has FX-7 always been able to not be so robotic? You’d save that thought to be pissed about another time.

“I can see it,” you said quietly. “It’s tied to him.”

FX-7 was silent, motionless for a few moments and it almost seemed like he had powered down. “That is…” he paused. “Inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, hopping down from your desk. Your hands left your pockets to run through your hair as you tried to clear your thoughts and just breathe.

“Is that why you have busied yourself more than usual?”

“Didn’t wanna deal with it,” you nodded. “Still don’t.”

“That will only prove to make things more arduous. You have two options when it comes to Commander Dameron, and you know which I favor. For the good of the Resistance and your work.” FX-7 then left the doorway to your office as promptly as he had arrived.

✗ ✗ ✗

You fell asleep in your office that night, or maybe it was morning by the time you collapsed against your desk. Despite FX-7’s confirmation, you couldn’t let yourself go back to your quarters when the pilot in your medbay was teetering on the cusp of cardiac arrest.

Leia Organa woke you by softly brushing the hair out of your face. Your head lifted instantaneously, a paper stuck to your cheek. You quickly removed it and smoothed down the rest of your hair to at least try and look presentable.

“General,” you regarded her, standing up from your seat. She smiled softly at you.

“Doctor, I apologize for waking you.”

You shook your head and tried not to wince when you peeked at the digital numbers glaring at you upon the wall.

“I needed to be awake, anyways. I’m late for rounds,” you muttered the last part to yourself.

“I came to update you on the operation,” she moved back around your desk and sat down in the seat Poe had occupied only a few hours prior.

“We’ve received intel that the TIE fighters stationed in front of the ship are no longer there, presumably to return to the First Order to refuel or receive maintenance. It’s a narrow window, but Commander Dameron and both Red and Blue squadrons have departed a few hours ago to hopefully investigate that cargo ship.”

You nodded at her words and contained the frown from surfacing on your face. Your stomach knotted, fearing that the absence of First Order protection was all too convenient, and they were falling into a trap.

The First Order was smart, something you had learned first hand. You’d been on their radar for as long as you could remember. The bad guys needed medics, too.

Some of your peers that you had completed medical school with had left to join, and ultimately you couldn’t blame them. The offer was tempting, yet mostly threatening. Most of them joined more out of fear than anything. You had been moments away yourself, but instead you were here. On D’Qar. A vital part of the Resistance. If you were someone who believed in such phenomena, you would swear the galaxy itself had made sure of it.  

“Have you heard anything since they left?” You asked.

Leia shook her head, trying to hide her worried expression. “They’re in good hands. Poe is the best pilot I’ve seen since…” She stopped herself. “He’s the man for this.”

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “I hope he proves me wrong. And also brings every pilot back in one piece.”

“Together, I think you two would make quite the formidable pair.”

“With respect, General,” you tried not to snort at her words. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance. Our stubbornness might tear a rift in the galaxy.”

“Or,” she winked. “It could bring it together.”

You had no response.

“I’ll be back should there be any word from Poe, and - “

Leia’s words were cut off by the familiar screech of a x-wings cutting into the atmosphere and landing on the runway.

Wordlessly, the two of you all but sprinted from the medical wing out into the open, expansive area that was the runway. Countless others were surfacing outside, watching the ships land and be courted off into the hangars for repairs. From what you could tell, they all looked fine. No exposed wires or blaster burns. For the most part, the squadrons looked untouched. The last ship to land was Poe’s black and orange T-70.

The second the x-wing was stopped, Poe all but threw himself from the cockpit, shucking his helmet off and chucking it at the ground. BB-8’s body blurred as the droid tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. His eyes met Leia’s first, immediately spurning his feet to turn in her direction. When he eventually realized you were also next to her, his eyes all but physically set you on fire.

You held your breath as he crossed the runway. Poe looked downright dangerous, he was so angry. Leia noticed this too, but did not change her demeanor as she waited patiently for him to come to her, hands clasped behind her back.

“Mission report, Commander Dameron,” she said.

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” Poe asked as he stopped walking, finally reaching his destination. BB-8 rolled up a second later. His eyes flicked to yours.

“We can, but the Doctor will be there regardless.”

Poe wanted to scream.

“The mission went as smoothly as expected. We were met with no First Order resistance or ambush as we docked and investigated the cargo ship.”

“And what did you find?”

Poe took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat that was deafening in his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched, and unfortunately the thread was still there. Except this time, it was pulled taught between your bodies when it usually sagged with slack.

“We found spice, General.”

Oh.

Maybe you did believe in some higher power. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this scenario. You wanted to laugh, point your finger and tell him ‘told you so’. But you didn’t, because the tension and anger in Poe’s body was so apparent that it looked like he was a chain pulled so tight it wasn’t a matter of if, but when he would snap.

So you settled for pursing your lips very tightly.

“Nothing else to report?” Leia questioned.

Poe shook his head.

“I’m glad you all made it back safe,” she said, putting her hand on Poe’s shoulder. “It was one mission, Poe. There will be other opportunities.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as Leia took her leave. The two of you stood in intolerable silence and you weren’t sure why Poe didn’t immediately sprint off as soon as Leia left.

“I’m glad everyone made it back safely,” you spoke slowly, offering a metaphorical olive branch.

Poe cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he met yours. You braced yourself, waiting for him to maybe pull out his blaster and take you out on the spot.

“Save it,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold the venom you expected. “Do you want me to tell you that you were right?”

You shrugged. “Not required, but I’m not against it.”

He did not accept your poor attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, he sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face.

“I look like a complete joke . Making such a big deal out of this whole operation, only to be completely and utterly wrong.” He laughed dryly, and you tried not to wince.

“But you know who was right? A fucking medic. The holier-than-thou doctor who doesn’t ever leave her medbay, but the one time she does she completely undermines everything.”

Of course, it was your fault. Poe didn’t want to face the fact that his lack of patience and impulsiveness had forced him and his whole squadron to investigate a cargo ship full of spice. Against your better judgement, you let him continue his diatribe. He continued, berating your position, your lack of expertise and inability to, how did he put it? Stay out of matters that don’t pertain to you. He seemed to have forgotten the minute detail that Holdo had asked for you to be there, even though you reminded him of that fact last night.

After a ridiculous amount of time, Poe eventually stopped to catch his breath. As soon has he did, he tried to continue.

“Not to mention - “

You cut him off. “Are you done?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I could go on all day.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m sure you could. Because you absolutely have the right to completely tear me down when we met for the first time a couple days ago.”

“I’ve heard enough about you,” Poe countered.

“As have I,” you clenched your jaw. “Your reputation precedes your rank, Dameron. You really think you’re going to earn respect and trust around the base when you’re running through every female here? You think that speaks well of your character? You think that’s Commander behavior?”

Poe interlaced his hands on the top of his head as he laughed at you incredulously.

“I can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you right now,” Poe said.

How fucking immature. You narrowed your eyes. “Then stop breathing.”

At your words, the red thread tightened around your finger painfully. So tight, it felt as though it was about to cut through and remove the finger entirely. Your other hand rubbed at your finger -  desperately, futilely trying to loosen the string.

Poe watched your action, and then sucked in a breath through his teeth as he grasped as his own pinky in pain. He noticed his movements mirrored yours.

“Wha-” he paused. “Wait - “ Two pieces clicked in Poe’s brain.

But it didn’t matter, because you were already retreating, your steps quick and purposeful. You were fleeing back to the medbay and away from whatever was about to come out of Poe’s mouth. You couldn’t deal with it, not now and probably not ever.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes watched your hands before watching his own, his forehead creasing with confusion, then what you hoped wasn’t realization. You didn’t think your actions obvious, but if he felt the same pain you did, it was impossible not to notice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind spiraled. Poe called your name, your actual name, but you were too far gone and nothing short of the force would make you go back to him.

This time, your interaction with Poe Dameron didn’t end with emptying your guts in the refresher, but by entering your office and locking it.

Small victories.

_ 

thank you all so so so much for all the positive feedback and support!! i love it!!! i’ve gotten a couple requests for a tag list so if you’d like to me to create one / be added to it just send me a message! also, if i made a playlist for this, would y’all be interested? lmk! xoxo. 

[reincarnated70sbaby]

star crossed

-chapter one-

jimmy page x fem!OC

warnings: none!

A/N: so I’ve been toying with this idea for a while, and I’ve finally felt inspired enough to put it in motion!!

words: 2.4k (🤨)

star crossed masterlist

next chapter>>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fresh off the success of Led Zeppelin, the namesake band were already quick to get back into the studio and start recording material for a new album.After a long eight months of non-stop touring, the band already had a sizeable amount of rough demos, all written on the road or between concerts.

On a warm day in September, they reached Mystic Studios, and were finally able to transform the songs from paper to production. Arriving at the studio early, the band entered, not knowing what to expect as the manager and owner of the small studio, Tom, was quite vague on the equipment available.

“Finally, that car ride took fucking years” Bonzo complained, after being stuck in the small vehicle for almost an hour straight in the balmy Los Angeles climate.

“God damned Yankee traffic, they should really fix that, I mean, how is it normal to add an hour to your commute time every day?” Robert inquired, getting out of the sleek, black car.

“We’ll we’re here now, let’s just get down to recording eh?” Jonesy stated, ever being the optimist.

They walked through the wide double doors, upon which they met Tom. Jonesy, Bonzo and Robert chatted shortly with Tom, before continuing on with the tour of the studio. Jimmy, having been napping in the car ride, was stretching his legs while his band mates were entering the studio. When he entered, he collided with a flock of red hair, the owner of which stared up at him in shock.

“Uh, s-sorry Mr Page, didn’t see you there, hope your ok” Alice stuttered, unaware that the famous band were arriving this early in the morning.

“I would hope you’re ok, after all you’re the one who ended up on the floor” Jimmy chuckled, extending a hand to the young woman, Alice taking it and rearranging her disorganised stack of paper in her hands.

“Thank you, Mr Page” Alice replied, avoiding Jimmy’s eyes in embarrassment.

“Please, call me Jimmy, no need for the formalities” Jimmy replied coolly, slightly intrigued by the aura of mystery that surrounded her.

“Yeah okay, Jimmy, I should uh get going” Alice said with a smile, while pointing to a random direction behind her, her legs kicked into action and she walked quickly to the back office.

Jimmy stood there for a brief moment, liking how his name sounded in her voice, before getting his head straight and navigating his way to the recording booth.

“Ah, there he is, the famous Jimmy Page!” Tom declared as soon as Jimmy entered the mod room connected to the booth.

The rest of the band rolled their eyes, most publicists and managers often overly praised the guitarist, aware of his famous temperament and trying to stay in the good side.

Finally, once introductions and navigation were over, the band could finally start the recording process. They started off with a bit of a loose sesh, playing random riffs and melodies that came to them in the moment, as well as prepared verses and choruses written on the road. Then they decided to begin recording ‘The Lemon Song’.

Upon hearing the song playing, deciding since all of her small errands and messages were complete, Alice walked into the mod room.

“Hello, Alice, how y’a doing this morning?” Tom questioned, his heavy southern accent reverberating through the soundproofed room.

“Great, how’s the band? They sound great” Alice replied, still not sure of what to think of Tom, this only being her third week as an intern in the studio. She desperately needed the money, it was actually good pay considering all the work she did all day, part- receptionist, part assistant, part cleaner.

“Pretty good honey, now will you go get me a coffee from the store down the street? Two sugars and cream please” Tom commanded, obviously not up for conversation at the minute. Alice rolled her eyes behind his back, wishing she could be a bit more involved with the recording process. It was her dream after all, to be a sound engineer. That’s why she moved out to L.A, leaving everything and everyone she knew behind at home.

Walking down to the diner down the block, Ellie collected Toms usual of coffee and bagel with cream cheese, the order she knew by heart at this point. Wondering if the band would like coffee, she decided against it incase they weren’t on break yet. Knowing the work with of rockstars, they might only take a break at 10pm once they got into the groove of recording.

Returning to Mystic, Alice walked through the reception , straight to to mod room. When she entered, they entire band, along with the recent arrival of their infamous manager, Peter Grant, were all situated around the room, conversing over the song playing over.

“Working hard or hardly working boys, Hmm?” Alice quipped before handing Tom his coffee, before exiting.

“Who was that? I met her briefly today but I didn’t get anything out her” Jimmy inquired to Tom.

“Oh, that’s Alice, she’s our intern, great little thing, always round to help if anybody needs it” Tom replied curtly, looking up from the mixing table.

“Hmm, quite the looker isnt she eh?” Robert joked, noticing how bright her eyes went when she saw all the band in the control room.

“If you say so, but we keep it professional in this studio boys” Tom instructed, his fatherly side coming out, after all he did feel a bit responsible for Alice. If she didn’t get the job he could’ve only assumed that she would be out on the streets.

“Ah just some fun and games Tom, we’re very professional, as you know yourself” Bonzo joked, knowing he would only flirt with her as a joke, he was married after all.

“Right enough chatter about the bird, let’s get back to recording” Peter demanded, not there for gossiping.

———————————

The following days ensued similarly, the boys would record a track, dissect it in the booth, before recording any new ideas or improvements. The band often stayed early into the morning hours, determined to finish a song, not matter how long it took.

Once Alice arrived early the next week, Tom immediately asked for his usual order in the diner. On returning however, Tom asked Alice to stay in the control room.

“Alice, thank you for this” Tom said, gesturing to the coffee on the table, realising only recently that he wasn’t the nicest to Alice. Determined to work on the friendship with her, he decided it would best if she got more experience into the recording and mixing process, knowing she wanted to move into that career path.

“Of course, what did you want me for” Alice asked, unsure of her boss’s newfound friendliness.

“We’ll Alice, I’m just going to be straight with you here for a moment” Tom started, looking her in teh eyes with a stern face. Alice gulped, fearing she was going to be fired. She couldn’t fathom why though, she thought she did everything perfectly. Maybe she got his coffee order wrong and ordered it wrong each time? Maybe they didn’t need her anymore? She couldn’t understand that possibility, as the office was a lot more organised and certainly cleaner, after her arrival.

“Uhm, sure?” Alice replied uncertainly, not sure where the conversation was going.

“Well Alice” Alice gulped. “I know I haven’t been the friendliest to you, and I am aware of your aspirations to become a sound engineer, am I correct” Alice nodded quickly, keeping her eyes on Toms. “I am very thankful for everything you do in this studio, you are the backbone of us here, always picking up the grunt work when It needs to be done” Alice released a deep sigh, thankful that she wasn’t going to be fired.

“Oh phew, thank god, uh yeah, no thank you for keeping me on” Alice replied releasing a quick sigh.

“Keeping you on? You didn’t think I was going to fire you was I? Oh god Alice, I’m sorry for making you feel anxious, I could see you were getting a bit agitated” Tom said, trying to calm down the redhead.

“Thank god, anyway, you were saying” Alice continued, curious to know where he was going with his spiel.

“Oh yes, uh, where was I? Right, yes I want to break you into the engineering side of this job, if that’s ok with you. I’ll teach you the basics later, but you’ll be learning on your feet okay? It might be a bit overwhelming, to put it nicely, at first, with all the jargon and knowledge. But soon you’ll catch on, you’re a very bright girl so I know it won’t take too long” Tom finished, hoping he didn’t sound to brash.

“Oh my god, I can’t uh, thank you! I really appreciate this Tom, it’s my dream, wow!” Alice excitedly replied, finally happy to get down with the business. She sprung to her feet, and flew her arms around Tom. He didn’t really know what to do, but nevertheless he hugged her back, happy they were on an amiable relationship.

“Okay, uh, hate to say this, but could you just bring me in the extra tapes in the back room, then we can start the whole process when you get back, before the band get in obviously. Once they are in you will just shadow me ok?” Tom requested.

“Yeah of course, I’ll go get those now, anything else” Alice asked, not really wanted to do any more errands after weeks of doing them, but still being polite.

“No that should be fine” Tom answered, resisting the urge to ask her to get him a donut. He just reminded himself that it would be good to have a second engineer in the room, especially one he could train with his liking.

Alice walked to the back storage room, looking for more tapes. On entry, a small box on the bottom shelf caught her eye. On the top of the box ‘FRAGILE’ was printed in dark red letter. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, with the amount of dust covering it. Swiping away the dust on the label, it read ‘THEREMIN’. Alice eyes widened, she had heard of this instrument when in school, but hadn’t seen one in real life, as they were hard to master and not in fashion with any music genre currently.

Re-entering the mod room, she placed the extra tapes on the large table at the back of the room. Sitting down on the large swivel chard beside Tom, he started explaining the control board to her, as well and slang for certain keys and nobs. He continued until the band arrived, around 30 minutes later. Tom requested Alice stay in the control room, feeling she could be of benefit. Checking over her notes, she began to familiarise with the huge board. There must have been around 100 nobs and switches, all with different functions. Tom was impressed with Alice’s intellect, she responded well and added thoughtful questions about the mixing process. Tom could tell within a week she would be well roped into the process.

Taking a break, the band, Alice, Tom and Peter all sat down for lunch in teh small break room. There was only two tables so they conjoined them and ate together. Conversation flowed easily, everyone exchanging funny stories from the business, touring and random tidbits of memories.

“And I was sitting there with a frozen banana smoothie all down my front, absolutely frozen - I mean what are you supposed to do when you tell a girl no to her invitation to you coming back to her house, in god knows where, then she throws an fucking smoothie at you” Robert stated exasperatedly finishing off his sandwich

“Come on Rob, that was nearly five months ago, you would’ve thought you’d have forgotten it by now” Peter joked with a gently shove to Robert.

“Yeah I know, still gives me nightmares at night” Robert answered while playfully rolling his eyes.

“Same thing happened to me Robert, except, it was my wife and she was giving out shit to me for missing my daughter Grace’s dance recital” Tom added.

“Um, actually Tom, you missed Hannah’s recital, Graces is on next week. I think the handprint Cheryl left on the back of your head was a cute accessory hm?” Alice added, casually calling Tom out on his bluff.

The entire table went quite before bursting out in laughter. Alice panicked for a moment, fearing she went too far but calmed when they all laughed, joining in too.

“The bird is English? Why didn’t you tell us Tom?” Bonzo asked, directing his eyes to Alice.

“Excuse you, the bird is sitting right here” Alice said, pointing to herself.

“Well I thought you would’ve picked up on it by now John” Tom replied.

“Well uh, the drums, y’know” Bonzo answered, shaking his hands around his ears with a smirk plastered on his face. He was actually quite embarrassed that he overlooked her that much, she seemed like a talented girl behind the booth screen.

“Where you from love” Jonesy enquired kindly to Alice, opening up the conversation to her again.

“Well, I’m from a small village beside Heston. I used to live in France til I was five, as my mother is French” Alice replied with a smile, Jonesy was the one she talked to the most.

“Well would you look at that. How small the world is, you and Jim being from the same place. Mad world Hmm? How did someone from Heston like you end up in the city of angels?” Peter enquired, finding the whole situation rather funny, both Alice and Jimmy going slightly red.

“Um, I finished school at sixteen and moved out her shortly after, and have been here since” Alice answered, slightly embarrassed that she didn’t know she was reared in the same town as Jimmy Page.

“So you must be what, around 20 something?” Robert asked.

“No, I actually just turned 36 last month, I guess I look younger that I am” said Alice, trying to keep a straight face. She was met with dumbfounded faces of the Zeppelin lads. The boys looked between her and Tom, who kept his expression neutral, running with the joke.

“Gosh, you don’t look it’s, that’s for sure” Robert interrupted, still hoodwinked by the new information.

All of Alice’s self control was lost, she and Tom both bursting out simultaneously, wiping away tears after a coupole minutes of gut laughter.

“Of course I don’t, I’m only 18 for gods sake!”

“Right, enough small talk, let’s plan the songs you wanna record next” Tom interjected, stewing the conversation back to business.

“Well I think we should start with Whole Lotta Love and see how it goes” Jimmy piped up, only now joining the conversation, previously he had being staring at Alice, trying to place her as she looked familiar.

“Yeah I agree, that one probably needs the most work” Bonzo added, happy to get down to the complicated track.

Various forms of agreement were sounded from the rest of the band and staff. When they had finished up they all returned, energised to continue the recording the album.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

navigation

star crossed masterlist

ok so first chapter! this was going to be a prologue but I think I’ll just add another chapter before we time skip!!

again, please feel free to leave any criticism in the comments!! if anyone has any ideas or plot points they think would work, just message me and I’ll see what we can do!!

tag list - @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey

ask me if you want to be added!

[peonybane]

That Look

Pairing: Jackson (GOT7) x Reader

Word Count: 6.5 k

Genre: idol!verse, technically post-idol!verse, Smut... fluff if you squint.

Summary: Having a family, that was a dream you and Jackson shared. But life said this wasn’t the right time. But even so, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t play with the idea of starting one. Or you, know, get in some practice.

Warnings: rough sex, female receiving oral, dom!Jackson, sub!Reader, edging/orgasm denial, dirty talk, impreg kink, overstimulation, praise kink?, I think that’s it.

A/N: This is my first, what I’ll consider, hard smut. I really want to thank the platonic love of my life, @ropeseok​ for helping me develop this. Also, please look forward to her accompanying piece, That Feeling.

That Feeling by @ropeseok​ Coming Soon!

He was doing it again. He was gonna get in trouble. Your fiancé, Jackson, kept glancing at you while he was filming. You accidentally made eye contact with Jinyoung (who was sitting haphazardly next to your fiancé), looking to him pleadingly to get Jackson’s attention back to the task at hand. You didn’t want him to get in trouble again today with the PD. Today’s PD was know to have a temper and Jackson had already incurred her wrath a couple of times already. 

Jinyoung nudged his friend, getting him to focus on the host. 

Thank god.

They were preparing for a comeback, the pre-recording for one of those idol reality game shows in progress. In the week preceding comebacks and tours, you’d try using your holidays so you could spend time with Jackson and support him… especially since you won’t be seeing much of him in person otherwise. 

You could barely contain the sigh that left your lips at the thought of him returning to the apartment at 2, 3, sometimes 4 in the morning, and he’d still be asleep by the time you left for work. As much as you’d want to kiss him good morning or hear his tired, rough voice bidding you a good day at work and telling you how much he loved when he was barely conscious, you let him sleep. Knowing just how badly he’d need it. And never mind sex— it was only ever a quickie on the off chance that he’d somehow managed timing coming back to the apartment for something with when you got off from work. It worked in a pinch but it was nowhere near as satisfying as the long drawn out sessions you and Jackson usually had.

It wasn’t often, but on occasion, Jackson insisted upon taking you with him to filming locations. Today, he wanted you with so the two of you could go on a date immediately after— this being one of the few nights in the past three months he didn’t have practice. 

You watched as Jackson goofed off with BamBam as they did something the host asked. Your throat went dry for a moment as you watched the material of Jackson’s pants tighten and loosen depending on how he moved. God… why did his thighs and ass look so nice in those pants?

“Unnie?”

Sooyun grabbed your attention again. No more than four years old, she was quite a bit smaller than you’d expect for a girl her age, sitting comfortably in your lap. “Yes, Soo-ah?”

She held up her doll to you. Sooyun had somehow managed to get the doll tangled up in the dress she was putting on it. “Yunhee stuck.”

You smiled down at her, taking the doll from her. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

As you helped Sooyun with her doll and continued to play with her quietly, just sitting a little behind the rest of the filming staff, you could feel Jackson’s gaze still on you. Occasionally, you’d meet his eye. His gaze was soft and adoring… for now, at least. You were glad that he was semi-distracted right now with work: his thoughts mustn’t drift right now.

After some time, they called break, letting everyone get a drink, touch up the make up; the usual. As Jackson immediately headed for you, Sooyun’s mother, Chunhei, joined you two. “Thank you so much for doing this. I’m so sorry about this.”

Sooyun was already making grabby hands for Chunhei, obviously having missed her while she worked. “It was no problem at all. I loved spending time with her.”

Her mother picked her up, kissing her forehead. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m going to get her something to eat real quick while we’re on break.”

“Of course, Chunhei-ssi. I’ll see you soon, Sooyun-ah.”

You waved at the little girl and she waved back shyly before her mother took her to be fed. She was so freaking cute!

You jumped in surprise as a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist, a chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Why are you so cute?”

You chuckled, putting your hands on top of Jackson’s, squeezing. “You sure it was me and not Sooyun you found cute?”

Jackson kissed your cheek. “Oh, you’re both so adorable.”

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing heavily against your neck. You couldn’t help but blush as his hands started rubbing at your lower belly, almost absentmindedly. “But… there is just something about you that’s impossibly beautiful when you’re being a ‘mother.’”

You didn’t trust your voice. He wasn’t touching you sexually, but it was definitely… intimate. The longer you were with Jackson, the more you wanted a family with him. Little comments like that didn’t help with that desire. 

“PG, Jackson. Remember: PG,” Mark said as he walked past the two of you, returning from his bathroom break. You blushed all the way to your ears. You had gotten used to how affectionate Jackson was. But being called out about it… hmmm, not so much.

Jackson removed his face from your neck, addressing his elder. “Don’t be like that. You’re just jealous my fiancé is here and your girlfriend isn’t.”

Mark just shot him a pointed look as the PD announced that break was over. Jackson sighed, definitely not wanting to let you go as he rested his head against yours. You gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just a couple of more hours, Seunie. No more work for the rest of the day.”

Jackson kissed the crown of your head. “You’re right. The sooner we get done, the sooner we can get out of here.”

You smiled at him and he returned the smile before giving you one last squeeze, his body heat leaving yours for the filming area. Biting your bottom lip, your fingers traced where his hands had been, the ghost of his touch still there. 

It was times like these, even when he was just teasing, you were tempted to give in. To see about having the implant in your arm removed. To try to start a family together, even though you both had promised that that part of your lives would begin only once this hectic and stressful part was beginning to ebb. When the news of him getting married, never mind having a kid, wouldn’t have as big of an impact on your lives as when you were forced into making your relationship public.

No… that part would have to wait. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t fantasize. 

You turned towards the filming area when you heard your name being called. Sooyun was running towards you as quickly as she could, carrying the lunch box her mother obviously packed for her, Chunhei following behind. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, though. You could feel someone watching you.

As cute as Sooyun was, your attention was grabbed by the heavy and almost… predatory gaze Jackson watched you with. Your heart skipped a beat and your pussy clenched. You knew that look. 

He always looked at you with adoration. Sometimes, his gaze was hungry, especially when he was getting rough in bed. But this… this gaze meant something else. It meant that you better mentally prepare to not getting any sort of rest tonight… and not being able to leave the bed tomorrow without help. He didn’t look at you often like this… always wanting to keep that in check. He never wanted to pressure you. Never wanted to accidentally hurt you. 

But sometimes, he couldn’t help it. And you were more than willing to indulge in that one kink he always tried to keep hidden away.

So… what set him off?

He didn’t see you touching your lower stomach… did he? If he did… you knew you were in for it later. You could barely look him in the eye as he stared at you, your insides getting warm from the weight of his stare… and the anticipation.

You sat down again, Sooyun sitting in your lap as filming resumed. She was a lot calmer, probably starting to feel sleepy after getting some food into her. As you sat there, cradling her, you’d occasionally look up.

Jackson was now seated, currently not looking at you, having to act at least semi-interested in whatever game they were playing now. But you knew. You knew his mind was somewhere else.

His legs were crossed, one knee right over the other, his hands clasping his top knee. You knew he was trying to hide his boner or will it away if the tightness of his slacks around his hips was anything to go by. His jawed was clenched hard, his lips drawn into a thin line, his brow tense.

Upon first inspection, you would have thought he was just deep in thought. But the way he ground his teeth in frustrations— no, you knew.

You weren’t sure if his bandmates could sense his change in mood or if they were just that good, but they seemed to do everything they could to keep the hosts’ attention on them, with BamBam and Yugyeom, the chaos twins, taking center stage, in particular.

Jackson turned his gaze back on you. You shuddered. Perhaps to anyone else, he looked pissed. But you knew that look: he was frustrated. 

Extremely frustrated. 

He was trapped in his head, fantasizing. He couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t escape this place quite yet. 

He clenched his jaw once more before turning his gaze away from you. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself a little. 

You were sure you’ve never seen him this frustrated before.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

“… Thank you once again for joining us and GOT7!”

As soon as the host said the closingment, the PD called cut. Jackson was already up and taking off his mic and name tag. While everyone else was taking their time, Jackson was trying to get going as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. You knew you needed to be quick as well. Standing up, Sooyun sleeping in your arms, you went looking for Chunhei to pass her back. As you found her, Jackson took up the space behind you, his body heat making you hyper-aware of his presence.

You passed off Sooyun to her mother, the little girl barely stirring. “Come here, monkey. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

You smiled at Chunhei as you stroked Sooyun’s bangs from her face. “She was no problem at all. Just a little joy.”

From behind you, Jackson was silent. But… you could practically feel the frustration roll off of him in waves. Chunhei asked, “You guys going to join us all for dinner?”

Just as you were about to reply, Jackson spoke first, lacing his fingers with your own, his hand practically engulfing your own. “We would love to, but unfortunately, I made a reservation for us at a restaurant. It’s date night, ya know?”

You glanced up at him. He seemed back to being his usual friendly self. But you knew better. Not if the tension in his neck was anything to go by. 

Chunhei looked at you both surprised. Jackson always enjoyed going out for dinner with everyone. “Oh! Well… have a good dinner then and it was good working with you, again.”

She and Jackson exchanged a couple of work pleasantries before he tugged on your hand to leave. His pace quicker than usual, almost forcing you to jog behind him as he led you to the parking garage in silence. 

He withdrew his keys from his pocket, unlocking his car. He opened your door for you and you quickly got in. As he went over to his side of the vehicle, you couldn’t help but smirk a little to yourself. Even frustrated, he still treated you, as he put it, his Queen. 

Jackson settled into the driver’s seat. He let out a deep sigh as he let his head fall back to the headrest. Your eyes fell to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes falling closed. You jumped slightly at the low, commanding tone of his voice, leaving no room for argument. 

“Panties. Off. Now.”

You shuddered as he all but growled out the end of his sentence. You threw your purse into the backseat of his car as you shimmied your panties out from underneath your skirt. Your hands trembled as you picked them up, cringing, already being able to tell that they’re soaked. Before you could do anything with them, Jackson took them and stuffed them into the pocket of his pants. No chance now of putting them back on. 

Commando it was.

“Buckle up.”

His tone was cold, but strained. You buckled yourself in as Jackson did the same and put on his driving glasses before backing out of the parking space. 

Why? Why did looking at him like this, turn you on so much? 

He probably felt your heated gaze on him because, almost deliberately, he licked his lower lip as he continued to drive out of the parking garage with one hand. It was almost as if he knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of you.

The car was silent except for the sound of the engine as he drove. You gazed out the window, the city becoming a blur as you tried to settle down, hyperaware of the fact that you were currently going commando. You jumped in surprise, gaze snapping back to Jackson as he teasingly stroked your bare knee with the tips of his fingers, your modest knee length skirt having ridden up a bit when you slipped off your panties. 

His gaze was still on still on the road, but nonetheless, he teasing traced patterns across your skin. Some were nonsensical. Others… others were more deliberate. Korean, Cantonese, English— he drew words from each language into your skin. 

Words that told you his intentions: ‘fuck,’ ‘bed,’ ‘love.’ 

So many words, each gentle touch driving you crazy. You swallowed, hyperaware of the heat that was building up inside you… all just from the teasing graze of his fingertip.

This was torture. But, oh so wonderful torture. You knew you could ask him to stop. He would. No matter how frustrated he was. 

But you didn’t want him to stop. 

No… you wanted his fingers higher. You wanted them to dig into your thigh like they always did when his lips would ghost over your core, the little shit teasing you. Starting to get frustrated yourself, you squirmed around in your seat, trying to getting some relief— whether it be the friction from the car seat or the mental distraction— you didn’t care.

A sharp, but barely there slap to the inside of your thigh put a stop to your squirming straight away, making you jump a bit in your seat. You glanced over at Jackson. His eyes were still on the road but his jaw was set tight as he let out a deep exhale through his nose. Instead of returning to tracing patterns into your skin, his hand found purchase on the inside your thigh, massaging it, almost like he was trying to physically vent his frustration. It made you whimper. In turn he let out a frustrated growl.

“You know how to rile me up, don’t you? Did you think I wouldn’t see you touching your lower stomach? The look in your eye? Fuck— God… I want to get you pregnant so bad.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. You didn’t trust your voice. You didn’t trust yourself not to beg him to just pull over and pull you into the backseat.

Thank god the filming location wasn’t too far from your apartment. You weren’t sure if the two of you could wait too much longer. As soon as Jackson pulled into his designated parking spot in the garage, he turned off the vehicle and didn’t even bother taking off his glasses. You scrambled to get out just as quickly, almost forgetting your purse in the back as Jackson came around and opened the door for you.

Jackson grabbed your hand and pulled you along behind him towards the apartment complex. Down the hall, you followed him, legs all ready feeling shaky from excitement. He pulled you into the elevator and pressed the button for the floor you lived on. He let go of your hand as the doors began their slow close and the carriage began its even slower ascent.

He didn’t touch you. He refused to look at you. Even if he wouldn’t look at you, you were transfixed. His hair was messy now, no longer handsomely slicked back. He was breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes closed as he took off his glasses, placing them in the breast pocket of his jacket. At his sides, he reflexively clenched his hands— he was barely holding it together and it made you all the wetter.

The moment the elevator dinged for your floor and the doors opened, Jackson grabbed your hand again and practically raced you down the hall towards your apartment. In almost a blur, he typed in the passcode for your apartment and pushed the door open. You barely had time to process it all.

As soon as he pulled you inside, you heard the harsh slam of the door first. Then the air was knocked from your lungs as he pushed you back against it, your purse dropping to the ground.

You felt him before you saw him. Your skirt was flipped up and Jackson was already on his knees in front of you; he mouthed your mound, leaving open mouth kisses and nips just above where you really wanted him, making your gasp. Instantly, you grabbed his hair for purchase as you looked down. His eyes were dangerously dark, his hair messy in your grasp as he shucked off his jacket.

As soon as his jacket was off, his hands came up and grasped your ass, squeezing and massaging, drawing a pathetic, airy whimper from your lips. He grinned against you as he moved his arm back down and around your hip, grabbing your thigh to prop it onto his shoulder. Your throat ran dry and your heart thundered in your chest. 

He was going to be the end of you.

Slowly, he pulled his mouth away from your mound, leaving you wanting once more. He looked up at you, staring right into your soul as he growled, “Eyes on me. And listen closely.”

Weakly, you nodded. God you were so turned on. You were sure he could barely touch you and it be enough. Using his other hand, he spread your pussy lips. The sight before him was too much— he cursed harshly under his breath.

“Fuck! You’re so fucking wet. Did you like that? Did you like teasing me? Did the thought of me fucking you pregnant turn you on that much?”

You knew he wouldn’t be satisfied if you didn’t answer, but your mind was barely there enough to really produce anything. Frustrated by your lack of response, he growled, biting your thigh. You mewled in surprise. It wasn’t hard enough to actually hurt you, but it was enough to make you arch your back… and you’d probably have a pretty violet bruise there tomorrow. You clenched at the thought.

“Y-Yes! Fuck!” You let your head hit the door behind you. “Yes, I want you to fuck me pregnant!”

He let out a deep appreciative groan. You looked down past his face when his body swayed a little— he couldn’t help but rut his hips, the hard on in his pants looking painful. Jackson swallowed. “Be a good girl. I’m going to eat your pussy. But you’re not allowed to cum—“ 

You whimpered pathetically at his words. But you needed to cum so fucking bad. 

He smirked. “Shhhhh. Not yet. You’ll get to cum. But not until I’ve got you overflowing with my cum.”

Your pussy clenched at the thought.

Jackson smirked before pressing his mouth against you again. This time instead of coming to your mound teasingly, his tongue, flat and pliant, covered your exposed clit, making you cry out. 

You weren’t prepared.

Jacksom had always been a little shit of tease, never going in for the kill quite so quickly. But this was a man on a mission. A mission to ruin you.

One hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle your cries as Jackson licked your clit. You let your head fall back, eyes falling closed. Almost immediately, Jackson abandoned his licking for enclosing his lips around your clit, sucking and pulling at it. A silent scream fell from your lips, the feeling more intense than it should be. You looked down at him once again and he pulled off your clit with an almost audible pop, making you shudder. 

“I said eyes on me. I want you to watch me as I get your pussy swollen and throbbing for my cock.”

Before you could choke out a half-baked reply, he pressed his face back against you. He alternated between suckling your clit, making you keen, and pressing the flat of his tongue against you, using his whole face to tease your pussy, making you whimper and pant.

Jackson knew what he was doing. The alternating kept you on your toes— kept you high on endorphins— but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make you cum. 

Your legs began to tremble. The distraction of trying to keep yourself up, balancing yourself on mostly one leg certainly kept you distracted enough.

“Ja-Jackson….” 

His name trailed off into a moan as you slowly slide down the door, your leg barely able to hold you up any longer. In turn, Jackson lightened up on his torture, going back to mouthing at your mound, moving along with you until you were safely on the floor. He gave your mound a playful nip before pulling away. 

You whimpered, still slightly shaking as you watched him stand up. On one hand, you were nowhere near orgasm, but on the other hand… you almost felt overstimulated as you tried to get back your wits. Jackson looked down at you, panting. He still had that dark, dangerous look in his eye, but there was more control now. 

He offered his hand and you took it. He pulled you back onto your feet, pushing you back against the door and immediately pressed his mouth to yours, all but devouring you— nipping, sucking, teasing— he was overwhelmingly everywhere. Still shaking, you kissed back, trying to regain some semblance of control by nipping at his lower lip, your hands fisted in his shirt. Jackson growled against you, pinning your hips back against the door as he yanked your skirt down. 

Shuddering, you kicked your sandals off as his mouth left yours, kissing a hot fiery trail down from your jawline to your neck, making your let out an airy moan. He pulled away from your skin just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, then he was back at it again, this time sucking and nibbling at all the places that make you keen. “F-Fuck— Jackson—“

He moans happily against your skin as you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt before he grabbed your wrists, pinning them over your head. You whined in frustration and struggled a little, very upset that he disrupted your mission in getting him naked. He chuckled against your skin. 

Reaching behind you with his free hand, he unclasp your bra. He let it hang from your shoulders, knowing that it would eventually fall away naturally.

Jackson looked you over. His jaw was set tight, his brow tense as his gaze drank you in. You flushed, looking away from him shyly, feeling extremely embarrassed by not only his stare, but the stark contrast between your states of dress.

He let go of your wrists and slowly pulled the straps of your bra down your arms. You breathed heavily as you finally looked back up at him. His gaze was unreadable. It was just dark and depthless. You were so mesmerized that you almost missed him whispering, “So beautiful… I can’t believe….”

“Can’t believe what?”

His eyes burned into you, Jackson leaned into you, trapping you against the door and his body, his forearms against the door, caging you in. You grabbed at his shirt as his lips skimmed the outline of your ear. He huskily whispered, “I can’t believe you’re mine, lǎo pó.”

You shuddered at the nickname, whining in need again. Jackson nuzzled your neck, you could feel his smirk against your skin as he growled, “And soon you’re going to be pregnant with my baby and everyone will know that you’re mine and I’m all yours.”

You stopped breathing, your heart fluttering and your pussy clenching. Honestly, you couldn’t tell which you felt more, the utter love and devotion he had for you, or just how much hornier his words made you. Moaning his name, you tugged at his shirt, all but begging him to just fuck you already.

Slipping his hands down from the wall, reached down and hoisted you over his shoulder, making you squeal in surprise, grabbing his ass (you swear, you were going for his shirt… it’s just, his ass was a bit more… solid) as a means of support.  In retaliation, Jackson nipped at your bottom, making you squeak in delight as he carried you towards you room.

Once in your room, Jackson smacked your ass, making it jiggle and you gasped before he tossed you down on the bed. Slightly dazed, you looked up at him as he kicked off his shoes, somehow in his lust filled haze remembering your rule about shoes. 

He growled out, “On your hands and knees, now.”

Scrambling, you turned over, your limbs shaking as you presented your ass as high as you could, pressing the side of your face into the bed, your eyes landing on Jackson’s nightstand. In the back of your mind, a bubble of a thought took form in that even though you were on birth control, Jackson still used condoms typically, especially after that one little scare in which you missed two periods in a row. You wondered just how out of it he was to go grab one.

A rush of excitement shot through you at the sound of him undoing his belt, and the metal hitting the floor as he dropped it. Your breath caught in your throat as you heard him unzipping his pants. The bed squeaked a little under his weight as he got on the bed behind you. You let out a pathetic whine as he grabbed your hips, roughly pulling you back against him, his underwear covered cocked grinding right up against your sopping pussy and the teeth of his zipper nipping at the delicate underside of your thighs.

Jackson let a string of curses as you pressed back further into him. You buried your face in Jackson’s pillow as you practically sobbed out, “Please! Jackson! Please, fuck me already. Breed me! I want your cum so badly.”

He didn’t say anything. 

Instead, he let out a frustrated growl as he pulled back enough to shove his underwear down enough to let his cock free. In a single breath, he went from teasing your entrances with hot tip of his cock to being fully sheathed inside of you, your pussy convulsing in response. You let out a high pitch whine, the suddenly feeling of being full almost too much. He always filled you just right.

Jackson stilled above you, pressing his shirt clad chest against your bare back, his mouth against your shoulder as he panted raggedly. “Fuck— you’re going to be the end of me, little girl.”

You couldn’t help but let out an airy chuckle, grinding back against him, making him moan. “Likewise.”

Jackson grabbed your hips, making you go still. “You’re playing with fire, yeobo.”

Whimpering in frustration, you wiggled against his hold. You looked over your shoulder at him, staring him down with pleading eyes. “Ka-Yee… I want your baby. I want it so badly. Please….”

With one shaky hand, you reached back, tugging on his pants, almost trying to force him further inside. At this point, you were beyond desperate for him to fuck you. You trembled, forcing out a shaky voice as tears started to well up in your eyes. You whispered, just enough for him to hear you, “Please, please, please, fuck your baby into me.”

You felt him throb harshly against your g-spot before he wrapped his arms around your middle, keeping your torso pressed firmly as against his own as let out a frustrated, airy moan, pulling back so the two of you were balanced on your knees. Your hands flew to his arms, clawing at his as you whimpered. He nipped at your ear lobe, roughly whispering, “Careful what you wish for.”

His hips snapped harshly against your ass, your skin clapping loudly against each other, making you cry out. 

Yes! This was what you wanted— it’s been too long since you felt his bare cock teasing your g-spot as his quick pace almost made your pussy burn from the sudden and intense stretch. You cried out, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you clawed at his arms, trying to ground yourself. Jackson let out a loud groan, practically rivaling your own sounds when one hand reached up to tug at his hair, the other clawing at his hand as it snaked down to cup your pussy as he fucked you roughly.

Jackson’s voice was increasingly becoming higher and whinier, his thrusts becoming sloppier. He pressed his face into your neck, letting out a strangled moan as you clenched around him in excitement, the palm of one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, while the other grabbed at your breast. “Hnnnng— no— don’t— don’t wanna cum yet.”

You shuddered, crying out, “Please, please— paint my walls white. J-Jackson, f-fuck me pregnant. I need it!”

Jackson cried out, giving you one last hard thrust— the force of it, knowing you two over. He broke your fall, letting go of your breast, but you didn’t care. You were a shuddering, whimpering mess as you felt his cock violently twitch inside you as he came… hard.

He breathed harshly through his teeth as you panted. He just kept cumming— you had never felt him cum so hard or for so long before. The hand pressed against your clit angled your hips up, as if he was trying to keep his cum from escaping you as you stroked your hand through his hair. 

Panting harshly, he mouth at your shoulder, coming down from his high. He reached above your head on the bed, grabbing his pillow before shoving it up under your pelvis. He whispered huskily against your ear, “Such a good girl for me— not cumming yet. And now good girls get rewarded for behaving so well.”

You shuddered at his words. Jackson pulled back enough, but entirely withdrawing from your body. He first turned you over on your side then onto your back. It took a moment, but your eyes began to refocus as you gazed up at Jackson. His gaze was hazy, completely fucked out as he stared back down at you. His hair was wild, completely mussied up from your grabbing, some of it sticking to his forehead, completely soaked in sweat.

He pulled a high pitched whine from you as he gave you a thrust. In turn, he let out a hiss, overstimulated. Jackson practically tore his shirt off, throwing it across the room before he dropped down, caging your face between his forearms. He stared deeply into your eyes as he adjusted his hips, wincing at the almost painful feeling of overstimulation.

Jackson pressed his pelvis against yours, firmly trapping your clit between your bodies as he began thrusting again. You cried out, not expecting the intensity from such a small movement. He ran one hand through your hair, tugging at the root, making you whine before he dove in, kissing you like a man starved.

You felt overwhelmed, nails digging into his shoulders as he sucked and nipped at your tongue, his pelvis grinding hard against yours, you clit becoming even more sensitive and swollen. Jackson mouthed at your neck and chest, sucking and biting all over your breasts, commenting about how swollen they’d be or something of that matter. Your mind was too filled with the feeling of him grinding away at your clit like a mortar and pestle to hear anything. 

Jackson kissed his way back up your chest as he shifted his hips a bit, making you scream at the feeling of both your clit and your g-spot now being deliciously tortured. Your hips twitched on their own, practically trying to run away from the stimulation as Jackson swallowed up your screams. Between kisses, you whimpered out, “J-Jackson— close….”

Staring deeply into your eyes, he grabbed one of your thighs, hoisting it over his shoulder as he continued to roughly grind against you. He let out a strained whine, you pussy clenching around his semi-hard member. 

His voice was hoarse as he whispered against your lips, “I know, lǎo pó, I know. Cum for me, I want to feel your pussy spasming as it swallows all of my cum. I want you nice and pregnant by the time I’m done with you.”

His words set you off. Everything inside you that strained and clenched letting go all at once. You let out a silent wail as your orgasm tore through you. It was intense and felt never-ending. You couldn’t breathe as the tidal wave of pleasure took you away. Jackson cupped your face, kissing the underside of your jaw as he continued to grind against your clit, prolonging the feeling.

As it ebbed away, your body slowly relaxing, Jackson placed butterfly kisses all over your face as he eased out of you. You mewled happily. 

You sweet, post orgasm euphoria didn’t last long though… not with how Jackson laid down on the bed next to you as he began rubbing your clit in gentle, slow circles. You gasped, back arching and you immediately reached for his wrist.

As you whimpered out his name, Jackson nipped at your jawline, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Such a good girl for me. You like being filled with my cum, huh?”

You let out a weak noise of affirmation, making him smile down at you. “Of course you do.”  He glanced down at your pussy, biting his lower lip, groaning. “Look at that, your pussy is still clenching. Such a good girl, keeping all of my cum inside to get pregnant.”

Letting out a small cry as he started to rub your clit more vigorously, you looked at him pleadingly. What you wanted, you weren’t sure— did you want him to stop? Or did you want him to make you cum again? 

“J-Jackson—“

He leaned up and kissed you, it was rather sweet— intimate— compare to the ways he was rubbing your clit. “One more, yeobo. Give me one more. I know you can.”

You keened as he slipped two long fingers into you, immediately seeking out your g-spot. You pawed at his chest, moaning and whining as he croaked his fingers, still thrusting into you. Your orgasm was building again as the heel of his palm smacked your clit while his fingers teased at the spongy material within you. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as you squirmed around, unable to escape. 

Jackson hooked his thigh over yours, practically pinning your hips back into the mattress as he lowly growled out, “Keep still. I don’t want any of that cum spilling out.”

You mewl his name pathetically, trying to burying your face in his neck as your orgasm continued to build. He whispered your name against your hairline. “That’s it. Cum for me. I know you can. Want to make sure we get you pregnant this first fucking try.”

He started finger fucking you even harder, kissing you deeply as you cried out. The feel of him, his mouth on yours, the way his chest vibrated against yours as he groaned did you in. This one wasn’t as hard, but it was just as mind blowing. As the waves of pleasure crashed down on you, Jackson smiled against your lips, appreciating the way your pussy clenched around his fingers.

As you came down from your high, he pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your pussy gently as he lovingly caressed your lower lips, making you mewl. “That’s a good girl. My sweet, wonderful girl.”

You swallowed, mouth having run dry as you weakly called out his name, your whole body still shaking. His hand slowly slid up and away from your pussy as he shifted around, lying on his stomach next to you. He cradled your face in hands, your shaky hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. 

Jackson kissed you, nice and slow. Gentle and giving. He pulled away just enough to whisper, ‘I love you’ against your lips, a sentiment you mirrored in return.

Your sweet moment was broken though by the annoying sound of a series of insistent text messages. Jackson groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, making you giggle weakly. You wet your lips with your tongue. “You should go get that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll be right back and with a towel to clean you up.”

He kissed your cheek sweetly before sitting up properly, kicking off his pants and slip his cock back into his boxers. You sighed blissfully, stretching out as you focused in on his nice derrière as he walked back out in search of his jacket.

A moment later, he called out, “It’s not mine. Must be yours. Want me to get it?”

“Mmmmmm. Sure. What does it say?”

With your phone in his hand, Jackson paused in the door way, jaw dropping before he yelled, “Fuck!”

You jumped. “What’s wrong, Seunie?”

He groaned in frustrated anger, his head falling back as he continued to walk towards you. He held your phone out for you and you took it, brow knit together before you saw the photo. 

Jackson dived towards his spot on the bed. “I can’t believe I owe Youngjae 100,000 won.”

You continued to lay there, staring at the photo of Jinyoung and his wife. He was kissing her cheek as she smiled, holding up a positive pregnancy test. 

Cuddling up to you, Jackson sighed, “I can’t believe they beat us at who got pregnant first. They just started trying.”

You laughed. “But there was no competition. We haven’t even been seriously trying.”

Jackson shot you a stink eye. He was silent was a few moment, thoughtful. Turning a serious gaze on you, he brushed your hair away from your face as he asked, “The why don’t we?”

That Feeling by @ropeseok​ Coming Soon!

Want more like this? Check out the following:

Reservations, a first-time story with V (Kim Taehyung) of BTS

STAR-CROSSED, a science fiction series with Jackson Wang of GOT7

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

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[connan-l]

All right, so now that I finally digested the final a little I have some random messy thoughts about Fruits Basket 2019. It got really long lol, but this has been stuck in my head for a while so I needed to get it out!

Honestly, it was a very good adaptation and I’m still in awe I was able able to see the whole manga animated. Fruits Basket is pretty important to me, as I read it for the first time when I was around twelve and it was definitely one of the series that impacted me the most — the way it tackles themes of cycle of abuse, loneliness, grief and moving forward still feel very special to me even now (I briefly wrote a post about it months ago after rereading the manga), so of course I was delighted upon hearing the reboot announced and for the most part, it didn’t disappoint. I’d never truly thought I’d be able to see characters like Rin or Machi actually move on screen in my lifetime so in a way it still feel surreal lmao (RIP to Komaki though). It was really refreshing to revisit the story in that way, especially given amusingly enough I am myself in the middle of some big changes in my life where I have to leave things behind so it felt sort of... well, I won’t say empowering per se, but quite encouraging and satisfying to watch Furuba, and especially its final, at this timing, in a way. It wasn’t perfect, there are certainly a lot of flawed directive choices that I question and unfortunately quite some important cut contents — but even at its lowest it stayed all in all good. I’m genuinely a bit stunned there are people who thinks the entire thing is worthless or a failure, because man, I have seen what a bad anime adaptation looks like, and Fruits Basket 2019 definitely isn’t one. Natsuki Takaya herself was clearly very invested and satisfied in that adaptation — I mean, just the fact she drew arts for every single episodes or for the season 3 ending really shows that I think. And while there’s a part of me who will always have a soft spot for the 2001 anime, there’s no contest that the 2019 one is the superior one and more representative of the original manga as a whole.

I believe some people really don’t realize how... uncommon it is to get such a consistently good-looking and complete anime adaptation for a shojo manga? Shojo really aren’t lucky in that prospect usually; they rarely get animated, and when they do they’re usually very bland or outright bad, or they get one short season of like 13 episodes that never receive any follow-ups — even shojo considered like classics tend to get poor treatment, unless they’re Sailor Moon of course or a long-running magical girls franchise like Precure (and even then we could have a discussion about the way Sailor Moon’s treated compared to say Dragon Ball for example, but that’s another topic entirely). So yeah it is quite awesome we were able to get this kind of anime adaptation that covers the full manga with good quality from start to finish, and I am so, so glad it exists and that it managed to revive and makes the series so popular again. (Hopefully its success means we’ll be able to get more good anime adaptation of shojo manga from now on!)

But yeah, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t problems with it and I also understand why some of the manga fans had issues. We were kind of hyped with the fact this would be a complete adaptation and in the end we only got a... sort-of-complete one lol. The art and animation stayed fine during the run (there certainly were some episodes that were uhhh, lacking in that sense, but that’s just how it is sometimes with productions and budget), but I admit I was a bit letdown regarding the direction, where it often seemed… a bit uncreative or heavy-handed. There was some very beautiful and smart shots here and there, but on the whole I really had an issue with the adaptation failing to actually take more ambitious decisions on its visual aspect, especially compared to the pretty pannelling of the manga — and when it did take these decisions it just was… kind of obnoxious and in-your-face, like the show is trying to hold the watcher’s hand (with unnecessary things like Kyo’s father record player derailing or the whole big ropes symbolizing the curse that often slapped you all over the screen, which usually just made me want to roll my eyes because of how annoying it felt.) Multiple people also pointed out the overdramatization of some scenes like the Kyo and Tohru’s confrontation at the end of season 1 or Akito and Ren’s fight which was, indeed, not very good and a weird choice. Fruits Basket is already a pretty dramatic show and these scenes are already intense, there was no need for such over-the-top theatrical display of emotions that only made them comes off as comedic. I’m probably nitpicking here but it also bothered me some characters’ expressions didn’t feel properly retranscribed (Shigure especially, whose characterization depends a lot on that, really suffered from this), or that odd habit of making some big panorama plans instead of focusing on the faces and bodies, which particularly sucks during emotional scenes (like the backgrounds were pretty I guess, but that’s not what was important here lmao).

Also that might be just a personal thing, but can I point out that the openings were pretty disappointing to me... They're not bad, but they all looked so... bland. The songs are fine but the rest feel so uninspired and it's kind of sad... I dunno, I wasn't asking for much but I just think they could've done more than just scrolling each character looking vaguely melancholic or making them walk randomly one after another :/ The endings have at least pretty illustrations and I'm okay with them (I liked what they did with Kyoko’s photo in season 3 too), but the OPs kind of feel as if they ran out of budget and ideas for them or something. I kind of feel the same with the OST as well, where they’re generally fine but were a bit lackluster, and sometimes… they were kind of played at bad times? I remember the Rin episode in season 2 were the music felt a bit out of place and took me out of the immersion, which is a shame cause it was otherwise a pretty good episode. But that might just be a me-thing here lol. The voice actors were awesome though! (The Japanese ones, at least, I didn’t watch any other dubs). I’ve said it before but special kudos to Maaya Sakamoto cause damn she’s so perfect as Akito, and Shimazaki as Yuki and Toyosaki as Rin truly delivered too. I didn’t know Manaka Iwami at all but I was really impressed by her Tohru, especially in season 3 — she really was good at capturing her character’s subtle emotional turmoils (I think she makes a better Tohru than Yui Horie too, although I admit I missed Horie a little lol.)

Anyway, on the topic of lack of ambition, that might be an unpopular opinion but there’s also the fact that I’m sad they didn’t actually... try to change or add more original scenes. By which I mean, obviously we had some changes, but not ones that were really interesting (when they’re not actively detrimental to the story). For example, I was really hoping that we’d be able to get at least one original episode focused on Ritsu (and Mitsuru too why not) in season 2 or 3, or on Kagura or Kisa; I dunno, it would’ve been a good occasion to give something more to the characters that got sidelined in the original manga, or add some moments that would’ve been nice to develop like about Akito post-cliff confrontation, but we never got that. And well, that makes sense now that we know they seemingly had an episode restriction (at least on season 3), but, yeah, that’s still a shame. Honestly in the end Ritsu’s character made even less sense in the anime, because like, it was nice they tried to adapt his introduction episode so that it feels less “you have to adapt to gender norms to feel better about yourself,” (the gender non-confirmity is definitely one of the bits that aged the less well in FB) but then they still made him cut off his hair and give his feminine clothes to Kagura at the end so why lol. (And speaking of his episode introduction, I dislike that they cut off his conversation with Tohru after the suicide attempt, not only for Ritsu but also for Tohru cause it is one of the small instances bringing up her issues that is set up early on and that is crucial to her, but I’ll come back to this later.)

And now about the biggest problem to me being, the cut content and episodes rearangement. So, just so we’re clear, I definitely don’t think an anime adaptation needs to be a page-by-page adaptation of the manga to be good. Every decent adaptation needs to have changes, and the ones that tries to just follow the source material without any heart often tend to get pretty bad. So changes are good! Cut content are needed sometimes. But in Furuba 19, it really... wasn’t the case.

And the most unfortunate thing being that the one suffering the most from this is the show’s main character herself, Tohru.

So, obviously other characters also got done dirty by this; Yuki and Machi’s relationship was so incredibly shifted in the background and rushed it’s almost funny. I’m one of the people who thinks that, while I do think they’re cute, I definitely agree on the fact their relationship was a bit underdeveloped in the manga — and that Machi’s character especially suffered as a result by being a bit reduced to just "Yuki’s love interest" when she was a character with so much more to offer (and as a whole I also tend to agree with the fact that Yuki probably didn’t need a romance at all and that his arc is more meaningful while focusing on his platonic relationships, but that’s another topic entirely) — but man, if the manga already underdevelopped them, then ohhh boy, the anime just completely dropped the ball. It feels very odd because to me it seemed like season 2 was taking their time with setting them up, so if they knew they had only 13 episodes for season 3 then they should’ve started the changes there; instead we got 1 nice Yuki/Machi/Kakeru episode, and then it’s like "Yep, they’re in love, just trust me." (It does makes me wonder if season 3 wasn’t originally supposed to be longer but then got restrained because of budget or covid or something…) Kakeru also very much suffered because of them cutting off his girlfriend and his complicated relationship with Tohru… Now, to be honest, I’ve always found the Kakeru/Komaki/Tohru subplot pretty... contrived and useless, and Komaki’s not so much a character more than a device for Kakeru’s development, but it does have some good moments relevant to the story’s themes (I like the ‘‘you can’t play suffering olympics with people’s pain’’morale) and it is important to his character (and Komaki is cute, I admit), so it was still sad they shafted it entirely. (Also I kind of like the tense relationship between Tohru and Kakeru. The fact they both seem to not appreciate each other even afterwards feel sort of refreshing even if it’s never explored unfortunately orz.) I was still surprised they didn’t actually try to make a Komaki cameo at the end? Cause I think it would’ve fitted and Kakeru’s girlfriend had already been mentioned in season 2 but... for some reason they... didn’t. (Mayyybe we’ll get an OAV like with Kyoko and Katsuya? Who knows.)

One scene that was skipped/rearranged that I’m very bitter over is the whole Tohru/Kagura confrontation and Kagura/Rin scene — it might not seem like much, but the moment of Tohru refusing to forgive Kagura is very important, and I was pretty annoyed they turned Rin’s trauma response to Kagura’s violence and her subsequent apology/hug to a gag, it legit felt tasteless. The Tohrin scene they removed at the very end too was frustating; it was great they managed to fit in the "Rin doesn’t want to forgive Akito" bit at least (I was afraid they’d cut it off entirely), but it was so essential for her to say to Tohru, not to Haru and Momiji (plus the way they put it in felt very random and awkwardly placed there, when they were initially talking about Tohru before orz). OH AND the Akito/Hana friendship too! Yeah I know it’s not a Big deal but I absolutely love the little glimpses of their friendship and it’s very important to me so I’m disappointed over them not including the ‘Ah-chan’ scene… (It was kind of weird that the show sort-of implied Hana and Kazuma got together too cause that’s… not the vibe at all from the manga… oh well.)

Most people I’ve seen generally only bring up season 3 regarding the cuts/rearangement because it’s the most obvious and the biggest offender, but I personally think there were already problems with season 2 and 1. At first glance I didn’t have much issue with some of the rearrangement, because early Furuba can indeed be pretty episodic, but thinking back on it as a whole I think it might’ve been better to leave some stuff, like Hana and Uo’s episodes for example, to season 2 (I do wonder if they did this specifically so the reboot would offer original content and differ from 2001 early on...) and cut off other not-so-important things from S1 & S2 — because as a result season 2 kind of suffer a bit by being The Yuki Season, which, for as much as I love Yuki, did end up being a bit annoying and made his development feel less natural and gradual, as well as the fact it sidelined the other characters a little and left them with not much conclusion in its final. So this added to how much they ended up cutting in season 3, it makes the show as a whole feels really unequal. I think they did overall a good job in season 3 with what they had, and they really nailed some of the dramatic and Kyoru moments (the sheets scene, cliff confrontation and post-hospital confession were practically perfect), but it is a shame that it ended up as an extremely marathoned emotional roller-caster rather than a more well-paced watch that we would’ve had if it had been 20 or so episodes. (I know others argued that season 3 was what it was because there wasn’t enough content left to cover for 22 or 24 episodes, but I disagree and even if there weren’t, it would’ve been the perfect occasion to add original episodes then. But I think it was more of a budget and Covid issue personally.)

But anyway, all of this isn’t actually what I’m the most annoyed with (and YES that’s a already a lot lmao), those are stuff I can live with, but like I said earlier the most problematic is what they cut off from Tohru’s character. And that indeed includes her parents’ backstory.

So, just so I get this out of the way; yes, I do understand why people were relieved to not see Kyoko and Katsuya’s relationship play out on screen, and yes the age gap and teacher-student thing is creepy and I do kind of wish it hadn’t been written that way. (Though I was a bit amused by people who thought we didn’t get the backstory because of the questionable age gap when, uh... you know I very much doubt the anime industry has an issue with that. Like, to start with, we wouldn’t have had Uo and Kureno’s romance if that was the case (even if Uo and Kureno is less problematic, it’s still the same basis of a underage high school girl/20+ adult man relationship), and second there was a literal romcom anime about a high school girl and an adult man that was broadcasted at the same time as Furuba season 3 lmao. So nah, it wasn’t there the problem to them, it was just time and episode restriction, which was pretty much confirmed with the announcement of the OAV focused on them.)

So, Kyoko and Katsuya is definitely Problematic and I agree on their relationship being uncomfortable; however, I’m a bit baffled that people were literally cheering on not having that part in the show, because it is... it is not just like a small bit of family trivia, it is Extremely important and actively essential to Tohru’s character and Fruits Basket’s themes and narrative as a whole. It’s very important to understand Kyoko’s character, of course; to humanize her and finally present her as a very flawed person and not just the idealized mother that Tohru project upon her, and it is extremely important simply to understand Tohru herself as well; to understand where her way of thinking, her trauma and attitude stems from, and this in a way that just isn’t possible to see with the little fragments of that flashback we got or the bits of Kyo and Kyoko’s interactions.

See, Tohru’s character is principally constructed around two things; her grief over her mother and her almost-pathological selflesness and people-pleaser needs that comes from her abandonment issues and loneliness, and her arc is very much about letting go of both of these things and finally moving forward and letting her life change. There’s this perception of Tohru I see sometimes that she’s not a very interesting character especially compared to others like Yuki or Kyo, or that she ‘‘stays the same kindhearted, naive girl from start to finish,’’ and while I deeply disagree with this I know where it comes from. The thing with Tohru is that she is firstly an extremely emotionally repressed character, and so a lot of her depth and development is made through small, gradual details scattered throughout the manga. It’s done in such a way that except for some obvious scenes those small, apparently insignificant moments are easy to miss or disregarded, and unfortunately it is a lot of these details that the 2019 anime cut, or rearanged in a way that feel less impactful or makes less sense; such as, like I pointed out earlier, her conversation with Ritsu after his suicide attempt. As I’ve seen others point out, this result in altering Tohru’s portrayal and rendering her character mostly about her romance, undercutting and downplaying all of her small, subtle character moments and developments, and miss a bit the second part of the story where the narrative actively challenge the ‘savior/therapist/mom’ that other characters and Tohru herself projected upon her.

And as a result it also means undermining things like her parallel and relationship to Akito, which idealistically should’ve been slowly built up throughout the last season but because of how rushed season 3 was in the end felt a little flat. (Akito’s character in general had some issues also because of the unequal pacing and rearranged scenes, though admittedly I think this was also an issue present in the original manga.) Kyo’s character and his romance with Tohru is the one element that managed to get out of this mostly unscathed (although Kyo also does suffer a bit from it), but because of what was removed from Tohru’s character it still inevitably impacted them by making their characters as individuals lacking. It’s not like it is a complete failure, mind you; I think the anime at least did a decent job at showing Tohru is Not Okay even at the beginning in season 1 (they certainly did a better job at it than the 2001 one lol) and managed to roughly portray her issues well enough overall, but it is just… lacking in the subtlety and nuances that, to me, makes her character and writing really special and unique.

(This post explains what I’ve tried to say here in a much more eloquent and better way that I ever could, and this all put into perspective what I basically love so much about Tohru and Fruits Basket in general.)

And, you know, it would’ve been sad but comprehensible with any other character, but here we’re talking about the story’s literal protagonist, which is why it is the part of the adaptation that makes me feel the most bitter. Tohru and her story is truly amazing and well-written, the thing I was looking forward to the most with this reboot — and while I do understand the episode restriction and I do believe they still did their best with what they had — her arc still deserved to receive a full proper adaptation, not a kind-of-half one.

So, yes, I am at least glad they’ll adapt Kyoko and Katsuya’s story in OAV, but the fact that it will never be included in the actual main narrative is still actively detrimental to it, and it will never have the same effect that if it had been played out before the Kyoru sheets scene where it should’ve been. (I hope they also won’t cut the fact that their story is narrated by Kyo, because that is also a very important detail for both Kyo and the story, but I have the feeling they will…)

Welp, that was quite a long, messy rambling. Not sure if anyone will actually read all of it but if you did then congrats lol. I feel in the end I’ve been really harsh and negative with the reboot… I do love it a lot! If someone asked me I would wholeheartedly recommend it (though I guess I would still argue to read the manga first if you really want to experience the story in all its nuances). I think they truly did an impressive job — even with season 3, which a lot of its episodes were beautifully done and did make me tear up a few times lol. I’m just sad it couldn’t actually offer a better, more nuanced delivery of the story’s depths and of one of my favorite manga protagonists that means a lot to me. But that’s an adaptation that so many fans wanted for years and I’m happy and grateful it’s here cause Fruits Basket deserved at least that much!

[kai-n-ali]

In the Fields of Asphodel (My Regrets Follow You to the Grave) | Chapter Three

Eleanor Blum didn’t know what to think of this man, this Peaky Blinder devil that made all of Small Heath cower before him, this almost-stranger with his dead wife and dead stare, but she wished he’d stop showing up at the flower shop she worked in. And that he’d stop looking at her with those blue eyes of his.

Follows aftermath of Season 03 throughout Seasn 04. Tommy x OFC.

Warnings: Depictions of child abuse, antisemitism towards OFC (slurs), canon-typical violence, canonical deaths, sexual themes, etc.

Word Count: 12K

Chapter One ❀ Chapter Two

Ao3  ❀ Wattpad

                            Chapter 3: Celandine (Joys to Come)

     She met her uncle for the first time barefoot and half-feral, wearing old blood on her fingers and streaked across her dress. 

     When they called Eleanor down to Headmaster Grafton’s office, her fingertips were still tender from embroidering dresses at the local dress shop earlier that morning. She rubbed them against the pleats of her skirt as she took the stairs two at a time, willing the sting away. Having left her shoes somewhere under her bed, still caked in mud from the rainy day, her big-toe poked out of a hole in her pantyhose and hit the wool carpet with every step. It scratched.  

     When she was younger, maybe eight or nine, the sight of the big oak door with its perpetual dust settled into the engraving of Mother Mary would’ve made her break out into a cold sweat, a phantom sting of leather hitting raw skin making her spine stiffen and her eyes water.  

     But she was thirteen now.  

     It sent a jolt through her system, seeing the door already open. Usually, the headmaster made all the girls knock before entering, waiting until they started to shift on their toes or rock on their heels. He liked spending long hours complaining to all the teachers, disparaging the young orphan girls’ lack of discipline. Sometimes, if he caught them fidgeting too much, he’d rap their knees with his cane.  

     Once, when she had been sneaking to the kitchen for a quick snack—she was the favorite of the cooks, but don’t tell anyone—she’d seen him frothing at the mouth over when one of the girls got snot on his new coat, due to some awful crying jag earlier that afternoon. His face had been a very fierce shade of red, she recalled, as he’d paced about in one of the empty classrooms, hands flicking about. The color disguised the faint pockmarks on his cheeks and the paleness of his complexion. Eleanor preferred it. He looked more… human, that way. It was nice knowing he bled like any other man.  

     Today, however, the door was open. Inside, sat the headmaster with one of Eleanor’s least favorite teachers, Sister Sarah, whose lips pressed into a smear of rosy pink rogue as soon as she caught Eleanor at the doorway, barefoot and with smudges of rust smeared down the cream of her skirt. She liked to say the lip color was all-natural, but Eleanor knew better. Across from them, in an over-large chair of what she knew was buttery-soft leather—she once got in trouble for curling up and falling asleep in it at nine-years-old, near delirious from a nightmare of her dead mother and having snuck out of bed and hunkered down in the unlocked office—sat a man she’d never seen before, his back to her.  

     The headmaster was a man with light hair and even lighter eyes—this chilled, near clear grey—with a thin, cruel mouth. Slim in that fashionable way wealthy people always were with pearls dripping down the languid lines of their throats or Patek Philippe watches wrapped around the delicate curves of their wrist bones. Eleanor was envious—they never had any awkward bits, no hollowed cheeks that looked scooped out with a melon spoon, no knees that stuck out in knobs of bone under paper-thin dresses. 

     “Anne,” Headmaster Grafton beckoned, hand waving her inside. Eleanor bit her lip to avoid doing anything stupid, like curse him out or attempt to deck him, and felt the familiar sting of her front teeth sinking into the torn skin. Her knobby knuckles weren’t very good for punching, unfortunately, quick to bleed with the semi-fresh welts stretched across them from Sister Martha, the only teacher who still rapped her with the leather strap when she got an answer wrong. The only teacher who ever called on her anymore.           

     It said something about her that Sister Martha was perhaps her favorite person here.  

     Grafton clucked his tongue, waited until she stood across from his desk, hands folded in front of her. She kept her eyes on the carpet, this fluffy, garish thing the color of blackberry wine, and his eyes on her forehead seared into her skin. “Anne,” he said again, and it made her want to tear at her hair, or maybe his eyes, those cold eyes—because, yes, Anne was her middle name, her mother’s name, but it wasn’t fucking hers. And she’d stopped biting at her nails, recently, and they’d grown long enough to do some damage if she tried. She could do it.  

     Eleanor, apparently, was too Jewish of a name, and while none of the staff or teachers could do anything about her last name, as full-on kike as it was, they could switch out Eleanor for Anne. Saint Anne, at least, was the mother of Mary. 

     Eleanor, christened Anne, baptized anew.  

     (There were nights when she was laying in her bed, still damp from when one of the older girls had dumped buckets of ice-cold rainwater into the sheets—or on one particular occasion, from being freshly scrubbed of pig’s blood from the butcher’s a street over; the stains never came out—where she just repeated her name in her head. Over and over again. Mouthing around the syllables, tasting them on her tongue just so she remembered. Just in case. They’d scrubbed out the Yiddish with lye soap, the language of her mother, but her own name she’d keep.)  

     The next bit of what the headmaster said sounded off to Eleanor’s ears: a record scratch, a jerk of a needle. Nothing but a string of words. And now her eyes were on this stranger.  

     Even sitting, he seemed towering to Eleanor, a looming presence—a well-built man going soft in the middle. He looked like he could snap Eleanor’s wrist with the press of his pointer finger and thumb, but when she risked a glance at his face, swiveling her neck very covertly, his face was made up of long lashes and crinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes. On his head was a shock of red hair, left wavy rather than gelled back slick and going strawberry blond at the temples. His cheeks were peppered in white-as-snow stubble. This man could’ve been ancient as time itself or, maybe, thirty-five—Eleanor didn’t know.  

     But what caught her attention most was that word the headmaster said—that word. Uncle. Your uncle. This strange man with too-expensive clothes and a floral lapel pin, this was her family, her kin. Eleanor spun on her heel, away from Grafton and towards this new man, this silent man whose brown leather loafers must have cost more than her entire wardrobe.  

     “You’re Ma’s brother?” she asked, unable to believe it. Even through the blurred memory of her five-year-old self’s eyes, her mother had been a woman made up of dark colors, brunette curls near black and skin that tanned brown in the sun. This man was all light, all pale gold. But it was the only explanation that made any sense. 

     She’d seen a photo of her grandparents once, obviously red-haired despite the black-and-white, and thought maybe that explained it. Though they had possessed much darker complexions.  

     Her uncle—her uncle—blinked. “No,” he said, short and to-the-point but not cruel, and his voice was feather-soft. There was an odd lilt to his voice she’d never heard, a funny way he spoke his vowels. “Your father’s brother, actually. Will Connolly.”  

     An Irish last-name if she’d ever heard one.  

     Eleanor stared at Mr. Connolly. “My mother was a whore,” she said, tone gone flat between grit teeth. Grafton hissed. Sister Sarah snapped out a sharp “Anne!”, but that wasn’t Eleanor’s name, so she didn’t respond. On the fine-boned features of her so-called uncle’s face, she looked for any traces of shock. There were none. Not even a furrow of his faintly-lined forehead. “How d’ya know I’m his?”  

     Mr. Connolly only smiled. “You may not see it, but we look a lot alike, you and I. I haven’t a doubt.” She opened her mouth, shut it again. She couldn’t find the words. “He passed, unfortunately. Last summer. But he wanted to know you. Make things right.” At some point, Grafton opened his big mouth again, and some sort of grown-up talk ensued, but Eleanor couldn’t get herself to focus, couldn’t rip her eyes from this stranger’s face.  

     She tried to be sad—hearing that this man, her father, was dead.  

     But her head was stuffed with cotton; her very system gone numb.  

     In a flash, the headmaster’s hand white-knuckled her shoulder, his form too hot along her back, and Eleanor went very still. Felt her limbs lock into place. Her heart stuttered. “Be good, dear,” the man said, and his tone was saccharine, sticky sweet as a bubblegum cigarette. She didn’t answer, didn’t breathe, and in a moment, she heard the click of Mrs. Lynch’s sensible shoes before the door shut behind them both with a heavy thud. Eleanor’s eyes flinched closed.  

     After a breath, or two, and a silence so heavy it weighed down her shoulders, she sat in a recliner across from Mr. Connolly, crossing her legs at the ankle as she slumped into the velvet material. She could be a lady when she wanted to be. But one foot couldn’t stop tapping against the carpet. The one with the bare toe. Eleanor took in a deep breath. “It’s lavender, isn’t it?” she asked, abrupt, and he arched a brow at her, leaning forward, hands propped up on his thighs and elbows bent. “That pin.” She gestured with the jerk of her chin.  

     He laughed. It was a low sound, rumbling deep within his chest. Warm. “Keen eye. Aye, it is.” The tied sprigs of lavender were delicate for such a large man, the feathery fronds rendered in silver, and the whole pin perhaps smaller than the stretch of his thumb. It really was beautiful—she wanted to sketch it with the charcoal pencils hidden beneath her mattress. “It was me mother’s.” 

     Even more embarrassing, she wanted to hear that laugh again. He hadn’t been laughing at her. It hadn’t seemed unkind at all. 

     But when she looked up from a scab at her knee, she saw his expression didn’t look like he wanted to laugh much anymore. His own gaze was glued at a spot by her right wrist, and for the first time, the man that was probably her uncle looked rattled. His jaw clenched. His eyes perhaps a bit wide, blue and brown and green. There was a flush to the tops of his cheekbones that hadn’t been there before.  

     She took a quick glance down, then darted back up to stare at him again. Her sleeve had ridden up.  

     Eleanor bit at her lip. He saw. It didn’t matter. It didn’t.  

     (“Little pig,” one of the girls said, almost loving, almost fond as she held her down into the dirt and muck of the backyard, and another pressed the glowing eye of her cigarette into the skin of her forearm. This girl’s hair was in pretty blonde braids, frizzed in the summer humidity, and her grip was tight on her wrist. The cigarette steady between her fingers. The flesh sizzled and sizzled while she held it there, and Eleanor thought of the mud caking the back of her hair and of the blue of the sky and of how much she didn’t want to cry. While they laughed and laughed and laughed.   

     But, no, it didn’t matter now. It didn’t.)  

     Eleanor tugged down her sleeve without looking away. The thin, healed skin of those circular burns disappeared behind the stained cuff of her dress shirt. Say something, she thought her eyes might have said when they locked with his, and her skin felt like it was burning all over again, hot and too tight. I dare you. Mr. Connoly’s lips pursed. Then he opened his mouth.  

     “Anne,” he started. And didn’t seem capable of saying anything more.  

     If she squinted, he really did look like her a little—in the straight arch of his brow, the curve of his top lip. The own red of her hair. The freckles across his nose bridge were fainter than her own, but the shape of the nose itself was the same. A fair counterimage, masculine where she was either soft or gaunt. “It’s Eleanor,” she said after a beat, and her voice sounded strange to her own ears, like from somewhere far away. She flexed her toes against the carpet. Knew there was no place to hide. She’d corrected him—this stranger that wanted to take her across the sea, this man who, from the sound of it, wanted to bring her home with him. 

     To her eyes, the hands resting on his pressed trousers seemed the size of boxing gloves.  

     Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, got stuck in her throat. She swallowed around it. But all Mr. Connolly did was cock his head, just so.  

     “Eleanor?” he asked, and his tone was mild as milk.  

     “My name,” she explained.  

     He sounded puzzled. “But they call you Anne?”  

     Eleanor shrugged, picked at a run in her hose. “Because it’s my middle name,” she said. Because they’re bastards, she thought. “But I wanna be called Eleanor if I’m comin’ home with you,” she told him, pushing onward. Maybe she was imagining it, but she thought the corner of his mouth quirked, just a little. “Not Ella or Ellie or anythin' like that.” She paused. “Please.” 

     And the stranger that was her uncle smiled, wider than before. “Call me Samuel, then.” And he reached out to offer his hand to shake. She leaned forward to take it. “Eleanor.” 

                                            ❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

     After a month at Sam’s home—what the few staff there dubbed Narrow House due to its long and low layout—Eleanor made her first grave mistake.  

     Narrow House was the most strange and most fantastical place Eleanor had ever stepped foot upon. While it was in Chelsea, London, a place with a good bit of bustle from the glimpses she’d catch outside the car window, the sycamore trees that sat shoulder-to-shoulder at the front of the house cut off the outside world, blanketing the whole place in shade. It felt like a place for the fae. Not for man. The first two weeks of near silence she experienced, only disrupted by the rustle of leaves and the static hiss of cicadas, had left her jumping at every sound at night, curled up on top of her covers and hiding her face in her knees. Waiting for the monsters to come.  

     There weren’t any, of course. She should’ve known better—she wasn’t a kid, anymore.  

     Or maybe they were very shy monsters. Either way.  

     Truthfully, Eleanor couldn’t recall her reaction towards the place when she first stepped into the house, just the feeling of Sam’s hand settled feather-light between her shoulder blades. The way her eyes were welcomed by warm hues of gold and cream and deep red. A few leafy plants draped over a table just at the entryway; senses itching, she wanted to touch the waxy film of the heart-shaped leaves but flexed her fingers instead. There’d been a similar plant on Sister Agnes’ desk; it had always looked so parched.  

     (By the time she hit ten years old, she’d mastered the art of tip-toeing on her stockinged feet, having learned which floorboard squeaked, which route ensured the most carpet coverage. There was a single board in the main lobby that shrieked a blood-curdling sound if you hit it with your big toe just so—she’d learned that the hard way.   

     At night, when all the other girls were pretending to sleep, too afraid of a lashing to even breathe out-of-turn, Eleanor would go to Sister Agnes’ desk with her cup of water, steps hidden amongst the cacophony of gasps. Walking in wide sweeps over the creaks and sighs and moans of the wood and never spilling a drop.  

     The nun called its sudden revival an act of God. Maybe it was cruel, but she let it die after that.)  

     The entryway was dotted with chairs stacked high with pillows and throws, and through the open doorway to her left, she caught a flash of what could have only been a chandelier, though she’d never seen one outside of a magazine, all delicate cut crystal spiraling down, hung over a long and dark dining table that seemed to stretch into infinity. 

     Before she could absorb any of it, however, an electric jolt of fear overcame her, stole the breath from her lungs. A giant mass of dark fur appeared from another room, launching itself in her direction. Eleanor went rigid.  

     Trapped between her uncle’s hand and this eldritch horror, there was nowhere to turn.  

     “Sweet-Pea,” Sam said in a stern voice she’d yet to have heard from him, one that came from somewhere deep in his chest, and she flinched so hard she thought her bones must’ve ground together.  

     But he needn’t have used it, because the shadowy figure had already sat back on its hind legs right at her feet without any prompting, slobbering globs of drool onto her patent leather shoes and looking up at her with big, patient eyes. Its tail beat against the ground.  

     “Hi, Sweet-Pea,” she said, faint. The big dog near came up to her chin. She had to yank back her own hands when they automatically reached out to pet it—its coat looked so thick she thought that once she buried her fingers into the coarse curls, they’d be done for. They’d sink so far in they’d never come out again.  

      “He’s still a puppy,” Sam said, sounding apologetic. Tall and skinny with paws too big for his stick-thin limbs, and no longer a blurred-out nightmare created by his quick scamper towards her, the only thing frightening about Sweet Pea was his magnificent height. His teeth were exposed in a doggy grin, tongue lolling as he panted. “He gets excited.” His hand moved from her back to her shoulder, giving an awkward two pats that made Eleanor go even more still. He dropped his hand fast. The next words came out soft, a gentle nudge, “You can pet him if you want.”  

     And so, she had, resting a tentative hand on his head. His fur wasn’t very soft, she found out, but the feeling of his head butting against her stomach for more attention made a smile bloom on her face before she could bite it back.  

     Later that day, she’d met the rest of Sam’s pack. Besides Sweet-Pea, his Irish Wolfhound, there was Fennel, a Spinone Italiano; Ginger, a Border Terrier; Lady Susan, a Scottish Terrier; Cricket, a Rough Collie, and Billie, an English Water Spaniel. Though she’d asked after the breeds—more to be polite than anything, because men always seemed to get so worked up over their dog breeds, or at least the headmaster had—all the names spun around in her head, muddled and mixed. Though, Billie’s name was impossible to forget from the start: the stout pup with his chocolate fur was as round and fat as a sausage link, and as soon as she’d offered the little guy a treat, he’d nipped it out of her hand and rolled over for a belly rub.  

     Very quietly, she’d whispered an “I love you”  to her new friend—because how could she not?—and she’d ducked her head at her uncle’s chuckle.  

     It was still a really nice laugh.  

     They’d spent a good twenty minutes where Sam would drop treats into her palm to bribe the dogs with, showing her how to make them roll over and sit, to beg with their paws up and to run circles and other tricks. Eleanor learned a lot in that short time. That Lady Susan had a very imperial look to her whenever she demanded treats, arching her head and narrowing her eyes as if to say: “Well? ”. That Fennel had a love for licking between toes, as she’d left her shoes at the door. That Cricket’s fur felt like a cloud. By the time they were done, her clothes were littered with dog fur, white and brown and black stuck to the grey of her dress.  

     Her uncle had also promised a tour and an introduction to some of the staff, but one look at the overwhelmed expression on her face once they’d hit the sitting room, full of ceiling-high bookcases and couches that could seat a small army, and he offered to show her to her room instead. Her head still spinning over the fireplace as he guided her up the stairs. He left the door cracked open before he left.  

     “Come get me if you need me, yeah? I’m just across the hall,” he’d said, and she’d nodded like she’d meant it. He didn’t look convinced. “Bathroom’s the door next to this one,” he told her, a wrinkle to his brow, and was gone with the pad of footsteps on hardwood. 

     That night, she’d slept on top of the covers of a bed that could’ve housed four or five of her fellow orphans. Afraid to disturb that array of artful pillows at the top of the bed, she curled up at the bottom in a tight ball. Velvet and silk and in colors she’d never thought she’d be able to touch with her own hands. She still wasn’t sure she could. 

     The summer night meant it wasn’t even that cold.  

     That night, Billie hopped up onto her bed while she laid with her eyes wide open, listening to the wind whistling through the trees, feeling ungrateful and homesick and wanting the midnight roar of Brooklyn’s streets. Wanting her mother. He’d pressed his wet nose against her cheek, and she’d cried into the soft, downy fur of his chest until her eyes grew so puffy, she had no choice but to close her eyes and sleep. Eleanor was only glad that Sam couldn’t hear her. She’d mastered a silent cry years ago. It had taken a while, but she’d learned.  

     (You see, the headmaster liked to watch. Until it got boring. He’d bring the nuns in to witness. Maybe he spoke—she wasn’t sure. Her knees dug into the carpet; she could feel the indents form on the scraped-up skin there, red and raw and irritated. Bits of fluff sticking to half-formed scabs, still gooey with tacked-up blood. And the belt buckle clinked with every swing. It made more noise than her. One day, she promised herself, she wouldn’t even cry at all. The headmaster liked to watch, so she bit at the inside of her cheek until she bled, until salt and snot ran down her chin and dripped onto that hideous fucking carpet, the color of blackberry wine. Until it got boring.)  

     But it was different now, weeks later. Eleanor had learned the layout of the place, the few staff that her uncle kept around the house. And she knew his habits—what he liked. What he expected from her. As long as she was good, he’d keep her around, and maybe he’d even end up liking her a little bit.  

     She’d done so well until now.  

     It’d began over breakfast, a butter knife dripping marmalade hovering over her burnt toast as her uncle set down the newspaper in a rustle of pages, peering down at her through the thin frames of his spectacles. There was a sense of finality in her uncle’s expression that made her mouth go dry. A scraping sound reverberated throughout the kitchen, knife on toast.  

     Eleanor didn’t feel so hungry anymore.  

     It was a shame, too—she'd only just started allowing herself these bits of extra luxuries. Climbing under the covers at night. Picking a mint leaf off the plant in their windowsill to taste. Taking the dogs on a walk without asking for permission. Drawing a bath instead of washing up with the sink and a rag. Running her fingers along the spines of Sam’s books, instead of just using her eyes.  

     Marmalade. She liked it when the bits of rind stuck to her teeth, chewy and sweet. 

     “I think it’s time we get you a new wardrobe,” Sam said, and she felt dread wash over her, settle into the chinks of her armor. She knew what that meant; she knew what he was going to say. “I called the family seamstress”—and who the fuck has a family seamstress, anyhow?—“and she agreed to come over today to get your measurements.”  

     Eleanor opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You don’t need to do that. My clothes are fine,” she said, voice low, and hoped the defensive bite in her words was heard only by her. No such luck. By the wrinkle that formed at Sam’s brow, that wasn’t the case; if her tone hadn’t alerted him, the way her hand shook the triangle of toast in her grasp was clue enough. The toe peeking out of her stocking met the hardwood of the floor as her whole foot began to tap against the surface in a full-blown jitter. 

     Sam seemed to piece together his words very carefully. “Eleanor,” he began, and Eleanor’s knees were shaking so bad she feared rattling the table with the force of it. When he got serious, his speech went much more formal. “I am your guardian. I know... you feel as though you don’t need new things. And I’ve held off for all these weeks. But being as I am in a place to provide you all the luxuries in life, I feel as though getting you clothes that do not have holes in them—and aren’t several sizes too small, at that, clothes that  actually fit —is more than reasonable.” This had to be the most she’d ever heard him speak in one sitting. His eyes were roving her face, but her face was already directed towards the poached egg on her plate, not him. “D’ you understand?” 

     Eleanor nodded. Her cheeks blazed. 

     Sam let out a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding in the first place. “Alright then,” he said around a sigh. Like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders after her compliance. Like her opinion had mattered to him. “Good. Mrs. Davies’ll be here at two. Eat your breakfast now, eh?” There was a smile in his voice when he said it, but she scrambled to shovel in the remains of her breakfast anyhow, gulping orange juice and scraping the runny yolk off her plate with the crust of her bread. Smearing marmalade across her face in her gusto. He didn’t say it like an order. But just in case. Her stomach churned.  

     Orange peel was still stuck in her teeth when the sun hit her face, fifteen minutes later. 

     It was always coolest out in the early mornings, so that’s when Sam (and now her, it seemed) did the garden work. This was his normal morning routine, he’d explained to her, until the winter frost made it near impossible to go out until midafternoon when the sun was at its height. The mist felt like a balm to her frayed nerves, brushing against her skin; the morning dew coated her shoes in a gloss. Taller blades of grass left wet trails on the stretch of tights over her ankles.  

     Autumn was just beginning to touch the trees, glimpses of ochre and pinpricks of cherry red among all the green like a child’s finger-painting. The white stone pathway was framed by heather growing taller by the day, sprigs of pinkish-purple, or lilac, that tickled the pads of her fingertips when she brushed through them. Though, she and Sam kept having to replace their mulch whenever the dogs dug it up. Said path led to a man-made pond stocked with fat, happy koi; they nibbled at her fingers for food when she stroked her hands through the water. She wasn’t sure how long she spent knelt by the pond in the first few weeks, just watching it ripple under her hands, disrupting lily pads that were sent bouncing on the waves 

     Sam had cut her some of the heather to hang upside down in her closet, bundled up with dental floss and left in the dark on a clothing hanger to dry out. It didn’t have much of a scent, but its color had made her eyes sparkle at the very first sight of it. She couldn’t wait to hang it in her room; maybe on one of her bedposts, if it didn’t shed too much.  

     Besides helping with maintaining the heather, she also pruned the asters planted in clusters out in the sunlight, placed close to the patio furniture. She liked the touches of yellow and purple at their centers best. “You could press one, if you like,” Sam told her one day in early September when they’d just began to bloom. She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away. “I could buy you a book for it. You could collect any you want.”  

      Eleanor hadn’t responded, wondering if it was a test—ribbing her, attempting to trip her up into asking for too much—but she hadn’t needed to speak a word. Her uncle plucked a flower from its stem, bright white against the tanned calluses of his hands, and held it out towards her until she offered up cupped palms for him to drop the bud into. It landed center face down.  

     “I’ll get you one,” he had said as if that transaction settled it, simple as that, and now, weeks later, a leather-bound journal rested on her bedside table. Parchment paper was tucked away in one of the drawers, though she wasn’t allowed to touch the iron without permission.  

     This rankled at her, sometimes. She’d worked as a seamstress’ assistant, for God’s sake, but Sam insisted, and Eleanor didn’t dare protest. In any case... It felt. Nice. To be worried over. 

     Among Sam’s backyard and dedicated garden, there were countless other flowers Eleanor had gotten acquainted with, though their names she had yet to quite master. White and pink autumn crocuses, she could identify without a pause or hint of self-doubt, but the miniature yellow blooms with their outreaching pistils she could not, for the life of her, recall any details of. Just that they liked hugging warm walls in the winter, shielded from the biting cold.  

     Currently, Sam was ruining the fine wool fabric of his trousers, knees sinking into the damp earth, checking on his radishes with careful touches. He patted the spot at his side. Eleanor rushed to kneel. His smile was a small one; she was graced with no baring of teeth. No threat. Not bite. Just a smile. He offered up the bag of mulch at his other side. “They’re not retaining moisture,” he explained, in that voice he often used when instructing her in any way, patient and steady with little variation in tone. No abrupt rises in volume that made her skin prickle with nerves. “Mulch will help with that. But we’ve gotta keep it a real thin layer, y’ see, like this.”  

     Eleanor heaved in a breath and let it escape in a little puff of air. “Why thin?” she asked, tentative, and watched her uncle’s eyes light up. 

     “Good question,” he praised, and Eleanor felt her ears burn, felt her cheeks pull with a reluctant grin. Sam grinned right back. “If you’ve got too thick a layer, it’ll keep any water from getting in, from reaching the roots. Ruin all your progress then, won’t it?”  

     The rest of the morning passed in this manner, checking all the plants, watering and pruning and patching up holes in the mulch from overzealous paws, before the housekeeper, Ms. Catherine Moore, let out the dogs at 11 AM sharp, a pitcher of what looked to be lemonade in hand. Eleanor inwardly cheered: lemonade was her favorite. The dogs chased each other throughout the garden, nipping at their siblings’ tails and rolling in the dirt. From where Eleanor now rested, sweat beading her brow as she took cover beneath the picnic table’s umbrella, Cricket trotted over, resting her head on her grass-stained knee with a flick of her mane and a small yip escaping her mouth. Eleanor dug her hand into the scruff of Cricket’s neck, offering a scratch—that fur was still cloud-soft.  

     From the corner of her eye, Eleanor watched Ginger, unkempt and often indifferent towards the other dogs, make straight away for Sam. He was lounging in a chair opposite to her, nursing a cigarette; the strands of his hair unshaded by the umbrella lit up a striking red-gold, like fire woven into thread. Her hair never looked so brilliant. “Little monster,” he greeted with a smile, inviting the dog onto his lap for pats. “I know it was you, digging up the mulch. Menace that you are.”  

     Ms. Moore reached them then, pitcher clutched in one plump fist close to her chest and two glasses pinched between the fingers of her other hand. The ice rattled within its glass container, sloshing the juice near over the brim and swirling the ladle in the pitcher ‘round and ‘round. Up close, Eleanor saw bits of fruit suspended within, sliced strawberries and what looked like quartered peaches, dying the drink more orange-pink than yellow where they settled at the bottom.  

     The pitcher, then the two glasses, were set against the patio table, cushioned with a pinky. Ms. Moore was a woman even older than her uncle, perhaps sixty years old, with a crinkle-eyed smile that she shot at Eleanor right now, head ducked under the umbrella to escape the sun. She pulled from a pocket in her apron two straws.  

     Eleanor took one when it was offered to her and watched with eager eyes when Ms. Moore began filling up a glass, holding the ladle still to avoid spillage; the housekeeper then used said ladle to spoon out several more pieces of fruit, slipping them into the glass with barely a splash. “Here you are, Miss Eleanor. You look parched.” She clucked her tongue, and the fine wrinkles around her mouth creased deeper. “Samuel, now y’ know I told you to get that girl a hat, didn’t I? She’s goin’ t’ burn right up at this rate.” 

     She’d never heard anyone else ever call her uncle Samuel, but being as Ms. Moore had worked for the family since Sam was in diapers, Eleanor imagined she was the exception. 

     In any case, Eleanor didn’t think she’d burned in her whole life, spending hours beneath the rays of the summer sun, skin growing darker and darker still. New freckles peppering her skin. But it was sweet—that she cared at all. She hid a smile behind the brim of her glass.  

     The few hours left until the arrival of the seamstress blurred by, her nose buried in a book that Sam recommended for her, a collection of short stories. Her fingers were coated in remnants of juice, having reached into the glass to pull out chunks of peaches, syrupy and dripping. They stuck against the pages if she lingered too long. She was more than halfway through “The Yellow Wallpaper,” wondering at what that smooch must’ve been that the protagonist was seeing, wrapping about her room and marring the paper that was driving her so mad, when Ms. Moore came back again, an odd look in her eyes when she peered over at Eleanor, squinting in the sun. Sam looked tense. His eyes flickered to Eleanor. 

     “Mrs. Davies is here, Samuel, in the parlor.”  

     And oh. She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten all about the seamstress. 

     This was where she mucked it all up.  

     A subtle shiver taking over her fingers, she tucked her book beneath her armpit before wiping imaginary crumbs off her skirt. Eleanor took a very deep breath, one that rattled in her chest. Mustering up a smile for Sam, one that felt like an open wound stretched across her face, she sat up. Her chair pulled up hunks of grass as she pushed it back. “You don’t need to come,” she said, tried to mean it.  

     Sam just shook his head. “It’d be rude of me, not welcoming a guest. And Mrs. Davies is an old friend of me mother’s, besides.” 

     Mrs. Davies was a small and squat woman in her late fifties, shorter even than Eleanor, who stood just a few inches below five feet at thirteen. Her cheeks were round and pink, her hair a dark blond. Barely greying. Her skin looked almost leathery, and those round cheeks pushed her eyes shut with the force of her smile. All smile lines. 

     “Oh,” she gasped, as loud as a gunshot even across the room, and only the pressure of Sam’s hand at her back prevented her from flinching back and away. Her voice was fairy-soft, airy and light. Like it could just float away with the wind. “She looks just like Winnie! Your mother had the same nose. And her hair, Samuel,”—yet again, with the Samuel, was that an old lady thing?—“such a lovely shade of red, it is.” That bright smile was spun her way. Sam slowly inched her forward, bit by bit by bit, until she was a mere handshake away from the older woman. “We’re going to have such fun together, dear. Every girl deserves pretty clothes.”  

     Eleanor didn’t know what she deserved, but it didn’t feel like this, trapped in the too-hot room of her uncle’s parlor, baking from the heat radiating off the fire-place. Those red bricks of the mantle, she knew, would be warm to the touch. Trapped in this room, to be poked and prodded. Left exposed. Don’t be so dramatic, she scolded herself.  

     This is what her uncle wanted.  

     And shirts that fit would sure be nice. No snags. No missing buttons. 

     Her uncle’s hand was heavy on her shoulder, this barely-there pat; she was ready for it. Didn’t flinch. There was a smidge of satisfaction burning away in her chest at that. “I’ll be just outside, then. Put on the kettle,” Sam said as if trying to reassure her, and he held out a hand for her to place her book into. With one last pat, a little stronger this time, he was gone with the click of the door behind him. Instead of looking at Mrs. Davies, she traced with her eyes all the titles on the bookshelf behind her instead.  

     She didn’t seem to mind. Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor noticed the length of measuring tape curled around one wrist. “Alright, sweetheart, we’ll get into all that you’re lookin’ for—oh, I can just imagine you in dark green, you’d look so sweet, or some rose. So precious! But first, I really do need your measurements.” She beckoned Eleanor closer still, to where she was standing in the middle of the carpet, her little brown heels set against the cream with its deep red patterns, vines and roses twined into diamond-esque shapes. Eleanor tried not to drag her feet.  

     She was right in front of Mrs. Davies, now. “Thank you, ma’am, for agreeing to do this,” Eleanor said, because she could be a polite little girl if people let her be.  

     Mrs. Davies cooed. “Marge is perfectly fine, dear.” 

     “Thank you, Marge.”  

     Marge stroked her hands up and down Eleanor’s arms from shoulder to elbow, like soothing a startled animal, and Eleanor felt her whole body lock up in reply. “Alrighty now,” she said, and her voice really was just like a fairy, “let’s get to it.” Eleanor tried relaxing at the sweet sound of it, uncoiling her tense muscles bit-by-bit, starting with her toes and finishing with her shoulders. Best to start small and build up. Marge kept pushing onward. Hands still on Eleanor’s arms. “Take off your clothes for me, Eleanor dear.” 

     Static.  

     “’M sorry?” Eleanor asked, and her voice was not her own, something stretched thin and alien. The hands were gone, now, and Marge was unrolling that measuring tape from around her wrist. For a moment, Eleanor just counted how many times it unwound: one, two, three, four, five... Quick, practiced jerks that she missed if she blinked too slow. Six, or seven?  

     “Well, I’ve got to measure you, don’t I? And all that extra cloth gets in the way. We want these to fit you nice, with just a bit of growing room.” Marge went on to mumble something about “Samuel needing to fatten her up, just look at those boney arms,” but Eleanor’s ears were roaring, louder and louder and louder. She couldn’t hear a thing.  

     She couldn’t think; she couldn’t think; she couldn’t think— 

     Eleanor must’ve said, “Okay,” must’ve agreed, because her hands were moving on their own accord, reaching up to undo the first button of her blouse without needing any guidance from her mind at all. But they shook so bad, these tremors that jerked at her fingers and strained her knuckles, that she couldn’t get the button free from the loop. Her breath rasped in her throat, coming quicker and quicker: it was like breathing through a straw. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was just a fucking button, just a fucking button.  

     (Whenever Grafton got irritated, truly irritated, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. This awful, wet sound. He did that now. Eleanor kept her eyes on the carpet, traced the pattern there with her eyes over and over again. Counted how many loops there were in a sequence. Sixteen. It was an ugly fucking carpet, she thought. She thought that every time. “Shirt. Off,” he said after he was done clicking, and she undid her buttons one-by-one. She did not raise her eyes to the belt. But still, her chest tightened with the anticipation of it, the slap against bare skin, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe.) 

     She couldn’t breathe. 

     If she saw the scars—if she told Sam, he wouldn’t want her anymore. Just seeing the burns trailing up her arms made his jaw flex, made his eyes go all dark and wet. She’d saw. It’d upset him. He wouldn’t want her. Eleanor gasped for air, moved her hand up to her throat like she could somehow coax out the breaths trapped within in. She couldn’t breathe. 

      There was a concerned sound, this slight lilt of a question being asked. A shuffle. A brush of air. And then, there were hands on her arms again.  

     Eleanor flinched so hard she swore it must’ve wrenched her shoulder out of socket. 

     The hands left, but it didn’t matter. Eleanor sank to the floor, knees-to-chest, and clapped her hands over her head. Watched the world fall in a blur of colors, even behind closed lids. Like a flicker of flame, red and orange and terracotta. “Samuel,” and this she did hear, high-pitched and hysterical, sounding far off even though it must’ve been shouted right in front of her. Must’ve been screamed to be heard through the water and sludge, the mud that clogged her ears, her throat. “ Sam! ” 

     There was a bang. The rattling of hinges. “Fuck,” a man’s voice said, and Eleanor thought she must’ve recognized it. Curled up as she was, all the soft parts tucked away, it was easier to focus, a little. “Get out, Marge. Go,” and there was an unsteady pause, “go and turn off the stove, please.”  

     In response, there was a click of the door shutting once more. And footsteps, sharp and clear before becoming muffled by the carpet, sounding off closer and closer. It was followed by the creaking of old knees. She smelled Sam’s cologne, woodsy and a little sweet. Like vanilla and cedar. But it was so safe, curled up in the dark of her knees, so she just tightened her hands over her head.  

     A sigh, soft but close enough that it ruffled her hair. “Eleanor,” Sam said. “Eleanor, love, what’s wrong?” She’d never been called love before.  

     “Please don’t be mad,” she whispered into the skin of her knees.  

     “What? ” 

     “Please don’t be mad,” Eleanor gasped, ragged enough that it scraped, and felt the tears welling up in her throat. Salty, like sweat and blood and other unpleasant things. She swallowed them down. “I’m sorry. I tried to be good. I’m sorry—I’m sorry.” 

     “Eleanor, no, no.” 

     “I’m so sorry. I-I, I—” She choked on her own breath, coughing and sputtering.  

     “Hey, hey,” he shushed, and she could hear the fluttering of his clothes, the shifting fabric of the light cardigan he wore. “Just look at me, okay, love? Please just look at me.”  

     Her arms ached, and her head pounded from the stress of holding back tears with nothing but a fraying strength of will. She let her hands fall from where they, without her knowledge, hand become entangled in her hair. Her scalp stung. “There we go now,” Sam said when she peeked out from behind her knees, raising her head to meet wide, concerned hazel eyes. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. “There’s my niece.” Eleanor shook her head, though at what she didn’t know, coughing again when she tried breathing in. 

     “Whoa there. Just breathe with me, okay?” And Sam took in a deep breath, holding it in before letting it out again. Eleanor found her attention hyper-focused on the rise-and-fall of his chest. “In through the nose,” he said, “and now out through the mouth.”  

     She wheezed on the first exhale, but by the third, it didn’t hurt much anymore. Sam looked almost boneless with relief. Eleanor stared down at her knees, felt her bottom lip begin wobbling. A damning tell she couldn’t shake.  

     “Eleanor,” he breathed out, sounding like a deflating balloon, and her eyes shot up to look at him again. She would never get sick of hearing her name; she wondered if that was why he said it so often. “Eleanor, you don’t have to be sorry, okay? Not at all.” 

     Eleanor shook her head, violent enough that her curls went flying. She had to clear her throat to speak, and her voice came out hoarse. “But I think I upset Mrs. Marge.” That damn fucking lip wobble again—it made her feel five-years-old; it made her feel small. “I was bad.”  

     Seemingly speechless, Sam stared at her, knees on the carpet and hands limp at his sides. He was making that expression she’d feared before, where his eyes went all dewy, and he looked, for all the world, like she’d socked him in the jaw. Wounded. One of his hands, massive enough that it could wrap around her wrist two, three times, reached out. Up towards her face. Eleanor flinched her eyes closed. He sucked in an audible breath.  

     This was it. This was it.  

     But Sam just placed a hand on her cheek, cupped her jaw. His palm was softer than she thought it’d be, even with the callouses. It made Eleanor feel strange. Warm. If she pressed in closer, she worried the touch might burn her. 

       (“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, young lady,” Grafton said, and his fingers had a tight grip on her jaw. She looked. She thought his eyes were very grey, and she didn’t want to think about what else she thought.   

     Later, when she was in an empty lavatory, scrubbing at the crescent moons on her palms with soap that stung, she thought back to that moment, when his hands were on her chin, thumb and forefinger pinching the skin there. His nailbeds were well-maintained. Clean, pushed-back cuticles. Her mother had always taken good care of her nails. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, young lady,” he’d said, and she had thought his eyes were very grey. She had thought that if he moved those fingers any higher, she’d bite them clean off, bite through blood and bone.  She wondered if she’d done it, if she’d be picking his veins out from between her teeth right about now.   

     Eleanor ended up throwing up in the sink. God, hopefully, no one heard.)  

     “Eleanor,” her uncle said, like trying to call to her from underwater, and she blinked. Couldn’t remember where she’d gone. “Eleanor, I’m never going to hit you. Not ever, y’ hear me?” 

     And Eleanor said back, instant, “I hear you.” It was what she was supposed to say.  

     Sam’s brows furrowed. “No,” he insisted. Brushed a curl from her eyes with a finger. It had a half-healed cut from what looked like garden shears. “I feel like you aren’t understanding me. Even if you think you’re bad—and you’re not, Eleanor, you’re not. But even if you ever are, I will never hit you. Do you hear me?” 

     “I hear you,” she said, and she almost believed it, too.  

     Later, she told Marge that she’d like a green dress, maybe, if that was alright. And that she enjoyed mother-of-pearl buttons. Marge said she could have whatever she liked. She got measured in her shift, and Sam lounged on one of the couches, reading from a large tome with deckled edges. And it was alright. It was all alright.  

                                             ❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

     She wore that green dress when she met her father’s wife for the first time with her two children—her half-siblings, she couldn’t comprehend it—in tow. Whenever Eleanor felt her nerves start to rise, her palms start to itch, she’d trace the daisies Mrs. Marge had embroidered on the sleeves and breathe a little deeper, a little steadier.  

     When Sam had come to her, hands wringing nervously in the doorway of her bedroom, she hadn’t known what to think. Learning that her father had been married when he was with her mother... Well, that hadn’t been a shock. Married men had laid with her mother all the time; she may have been only six years old when she’d been taken to the orphanage, but she hadn’t been stupid. Or blind. She knew the look of a wedding ring, even if her mother had never worn one herself.  

     Learning that Sam wanted her to meet her late father’s family, his wife and his children... That had given her pause. Eleanor had stared at him, aghast, mouth agape; her attention entirely torn away from the journal in her lap. Her pen, still pressed deep into the paper, left a spreading stain over the dot of one of the i's, a black cloud of ink. She’d been practicing her cursive, the careful loops of it—Sam was in the process of picking out tutors for her, and she’d sworn to whatever higher power there was out there that she would not be an embarrassment—but how ugly her uppercase S was no longer mattered.  

     “Sam, they’ll hate me,” she’d blurted, digging her fingers into the fabric of her comforter. Sam had looked at her then, the agitated fidgeting of his fingers slowing to an abrupt stop, and he’d strolled over to sit beside her before she could barely blink. 

     “It’s impossible to hate you,” he said, which Eleanor knew to be a lie. “And if they tried, they’d be out of our house, wouldn’t they? Just like that.”  

     And so, here they were.  

     Josie Connolly was a woman who loomed over everyone around her without even trying, easily above six feet in her lace-up boots, and made all the taller with her hair piled high on her head, its color so dark it was near black. Like Grafton, she was thin in that fashionable way, slim wrists encased in lavender gloves and the curve of her cheek both sharp and soft, silk over steel. She peered down her nose at Eleanor from where she stood behind Sam, near hidden in his shadow. Sam stepped forward to take her coat, and never, never had Eleanor felt so exposed from one pair of grey eyes, so stripped down and flayed. Which was saying something. “She looks more like you than Will,” was the first thing past her lips, the slim line of her eyebrow raised in some sort of amusement gone sour.  

     To be fair, Eleanor thought, being faced with your dead husband’s infidelity would make anyone bitter.   

     Her uncle’s smile was a brittle thing. “Josie, good to see you. As always. Hello, Junior. Hello, Lottie. Merry Christmas.”  

     That’d been another thing Sam had fretted over—whether a Christmas dinner would insult her Jewish sensibilities. Like she hadn’t grown up in a Roman Catholic orphanage. Or, perhaps, she noted, an amused curl to her mouth, that was why he asked at all. He always got scowly at the slightest mention of her time there, though he tried his best to hide it.  

     It’d been almost cute, watching him leap up from the edge of her bed to pace the length of her bedroom, flinging his hands about in endless motion, his sleeves rolled up and the freckled skin of his forearms stark against the background of her dark green walls, recently painted. It was one of the first times that Eleanor thought they really looked related, like kin. The way he puffed stray strands of hair out of his eyes, his wrists too busy lolling this way and that. 

     “You’re laughing at me,” he accused, once he’d paused long enough in his rant of telling her, for the fifth or sixth time, that her comfort was paramount, that they could schedule a different date—that'd it’d been Josie’s idea, anyhow, not his own—to actually take a good look in his niece’s direction. He sounded very pleased.  

     “I’m not,” Eleanor protested, but she was still smiling. “Christmas dinner is fine, Sam, honest.” In truth, she’d liked Christmas back at the orphanage, if only because the sisters were nicer that time a year, less likely to strike out with the leather strap. Christmas cheer and all that. Besides, Christmas dinner was almost always more delicious than any other meal of the year, more plentiful: potatoes and chicken, green beans fresh from the market. One year, they’d even got slices of pumpkin pie. Christmas time was very kind to orphans, even Jewish ones.  

     It hadn’t compared to making latkes with her mother for Chanukah—her mother had never allowed her to grate the potatoes, and she remembered, even now, watching with saucer-wide eyes as the pile of shreds grew and grew and grew, a small mountain on their kitchen table. The smell of onions caramelizing in Bubbe’s cast-iron skillet, the promise of them being jammy and sweet, almost buttery on her tongue. The bubbling of the vegetable oil on the stovetop. She’d scoop applesauce onto her mother’s latkes, heaps and heaps of it, until Anne scolded her for the mess. Withholding laughter that glittered behind her eyes. “You can’t fit all that into even your big mouth!” Her fingers had always been so tender, wiping at the applesauce oozing from the sides of her mouth, down her sticky chin, that the memory of it all always made Eleanor want to shut her eyes, to wrap her arms around herself and lean into that great love again, even if only the remnants of it.  

     Not to mention the honey and apples on Rash Hashanah, the perfect treat to her five-year-old eyes and tastebuds. And challah, eggy and so, so sweet: sweet as everything was meant to be in the New Year. The bread perfectly round, braided by her mother’s careful hands. Its top always so crunchy. Her mother hadn’t been a religious woman, not at all, but “Food is the language of love, my sweet, and our family has passed onto us so much of it.” No, Christmas couldn’t compare.  

     But maybe all Christians were kinder on Christmas, even to the bastard children of cheating, bastard husbands too dead to curse their names. The thought perked her up. It felt like a silly hope, but one she was willing to cling to. “Besides,” Eleanor told her uncle, giving him her most nonchalant shrug, like the thought of meeting the family of the man she hadn’t been good enough for didn’t send a chill down her spine, like it was better than fine, “it’s just a dinner.” 

     Just a dinner, indeed.  

     The kids behind Josie were perfect and pretty in the way that made Eleanor’s teeth clench, that made her want to tuck her hands behind her back and scratch at the half-healed scar tissue, scaly and ugly, that stretched across her knuckles. She did not do that.  

     The younger one, Charlotte, shot her (their) uncle a smile—there was a gap where one of her canines should’ve been. She looked like she belonged in a Monet painting, all strawberry blonde hair and soft pastels. Up close, Eleanor noted her eyes were the palest shade of green she'd ever seen. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Sam!” Their chins might’ve been the same, she thought, as she tried not to fidget when those pale, pale eyes fell on her face.  

     William Jr., sixteen, was a carbon copy of his mother, already towering over all of them, even Josie, with skin so light it was translucent. “Merry Christmas.” His voice was nasally from what was probably a cold, if the red tip of his nose was any indicator. He didn’t look at her at all, trained his gaze studiously on Sam, on his mother, on the wall coat rack where he placed his winter jacket. On anything that wasn’t her. It wasn’t subtle.  

     “This is Eleanor,” Sam said—like they couldn’t have known. Abruptly, he was behind her again, his hands curled around her shoulders; his presence warm at her back. It was almost baffling, how quickly Eleanor eased under his touch. Felt some of the tension leach out of her. She’d been grinding her teeth without even noticing it; her gums felt tender. At least I’m doing it with you, she thought. At least it’s you. Josie’s eyes were narrowed in on her. Her own gaze trained on the woodgrain of their floor, Eleanor straightened her spine and choked out some form of a hello, pleased to meet you. And steeled herself for the rest of the day. You’ve got this.  

     There was one thing she could say about the whole affair: dinner, at least, was delicious. Her plate was piled to the point of excess by Sam, slabs of dark turkey meat, stuffing and gravy, roasted potatoes with garlic, cranberry sauce, and some strange pancake-like side called Yorkshire pudding. By the time she was less than a third of the way through her meal, her fork not even scraping the bottom of the plate, her stomach had begun cramping to the point that she felt vaguely ill.  

     Normally, she could get away with feeding scraps to the dogs when this happened, slipping them bits of fat among other treats under the tablecloth while Sam looked the other way, their teeth closing around the food so gentle their canines barely grazed her fingers at all. But Josie didn’t like dogs, apparently, so they were all out playing under the watch of Ms. Catherine. Eleanor longed to join them. She nibbled at a Brussels sprout. 

     The small talk was unbearable.  

     “Have you gotten your invitation yet?” Josie asked her brother-in-law, cutting her potatoes into dainty, bite-sized pieces. Sam arched a brow as if to say: be more specific. She gave a light scoff in reply, popping a morsel into her mouth and chewing carefully, lips pursed, before speaking up again. “Don’t be daft, Sam. You know I mean Leo Amery’s New Year's soirée.”  

     Sam shrugged. He looked elegant in a way that Eleanor could never pull off. “I believe so. To be honest—I didn’t pay much attention.”  

     Charlotte, who had lit up at the mention of the party, made more sprite than girl from the glittering of her eyes, shot an affronted scowl Sam’s way. Her nose crinkled. “You’re so boring, Uncle Sam! It’s going to be perfect this year—Mum promised I could go. The invitation said the theme's A Midsummer Night’s Dream!” It looked, for a moment, like she was about to start waving her hands around, enthusiasm clear in the way she vibrated in her chair, but a cool look from her mother had her settling back down. Her smile shrank. Still, she pushed on, in a much more sedate tone. “Summer in winter. Fairies and magic, isn’t that fun?”  

     “Very fun,” Sam agreed, shooting her a smile, voice kind enough he seemed almost sincere, even to Eleanor’s ears. Charlotte smiled back, but her eyes were on Eleanor now, her head cocked to one side.  

     “Are you going to come, Eleanor?” Maybe she was imagining it, but the younger girl seemed almost pleased at the thought.  

     Josie clapped her hands, a thunderous sound that sent Eleanor into a fit of flinching. “Yes, how about it, Eleanor?” She said her name in this slick, mocking way that made her feel filthy just hearing it.  

     Eleanor exchanged a frantic look with Sam from where he sat at the head of the table. Will Jr., who up to this point had been silent and motionless at her side besides the steady consumption of his plate, turned to look at her with his mother’s grey eyes. Well? he asked. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to speak. She could imagine nothing more hellish, dressed up just to be stripped to the bone by the sharks of London polite society.  

     “Eleanor’s got time,” Sam responded for her, and there was a firmness, a finality, to his reply that had Josie straightening in her seat. It was quite the feat—her posture had already been impeccable. “And if I never had to go to one of those stuffy things again, it’d be eons too soon.” His smile had an edge, and Eleanor hid her own, blotting her mouth with her napkin. “Though, fairies do sound nice, Lottie. You’ll fit right in.” Lottie beamed at him from her place beside her mother.  

     Whatever reply Josie had on the tip of her tongue, it was disrupted by one of the cooks trotting in, a jolly man named Joseph who clutched a large platter in his hands. Following close behind was June, a part-time maid, who darted about the table with whispered apologies as she gathered up plates and used silverware. Eleanor forked over her still overflowing plate with poorly-hidden relief. June stopped just long enough to tut at her, a smile lingering at the corner of her mouth. “You’re too thin by half, miss,” she scolded, quiet enough not to be heard over Lottie, who in a surge of passion, started regaling to Sam her recent sewing project, something about embroidering a landscape into the hem of a dress. If she weren’t her half-sister, only a year out from her father’s death and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his widow, Eleanor would want to pick her brain for what exactly that entailed.  

     “I’m saving up for dessert,” Eleanor lied with the bat of her lashes. June just shook her head and moved on to hoist Junior’s empty plates on top of the pile. Meanwhile, Joseph had sat several dishes in the center of their table: a fruitcake, a Yule log, and to Eleanor’s equal amount of dread and delight, what looked like an apple tart.  

     This is the end of me, she thought, eyes wide. “Thank you, Mr. Joe,” she murmured as the man walked past, and he shot her a grin before disappearing through the door with a whirl of his apron. By the time she had looked away from him and back towards the table, Sam had set a sizeable slice of apple tart right in front of her, the filling already oozing onto the plate. She shot him a look of betrayal. The corner of his mouth quirked up, even as his eyes blew wide in mock-innocence.  

     For a blissful moment, there was just the sound of forks hitting ceramic and a pleased hum or two. Even Josie picked through her slice of Yule log with something close to relish, patting away imaginary crumbs or smears of chocolate ganache between bites. It was almost peace, that thrum of tension from the start near silent.  

     Then Junior opened his mouth for perhaps the first time since they sat at the table, head twisted Eleanor’s way. “D’ you even celebrate Christmas, Eleanor?” Silence. He said her name the same way his mother did: like it was something rotten in his mouth. Like it was something to be spat out. Josie’s face peeled back into a smile.  

     It would’ve been beautiful if her eyes weren’t so cold.  

     “Um,” Eleanor stuttered and could’ve heard a pin drop. Charlotte’s head perked up in interest over her tart, and Sam opened his mouth to speak, so she pushed onward. “I did celebrate it. At the orphanage with everyone else, like I’m doin’ with you. But no, um, I don’t personally celebrate Christmas.” She thought it sounded rather diplomatic of her. Sam’s shoulders uncurled, just a little.  

     “Right,” Junior pushed onward, and he leaned into her direction far enough she could almost feel his breath on her face. The high points of his cheeks were very pink. “Because Da didn’t just fuck a whore, he had to fuck a Jew, too.”  

     Eleanor didn’t know what to say to that. It was true. Sam looked like he wanted to spit. “William—” 

     Josie cut in, clearing her throat and scolding, “Now, Junior, language,” but it was the most pleased Eleanor had ever seen her. Lottie looked pale, even paler than usual, slinking back into her seat, sweet tooth forgotten; she looked so much smaller than before, this girl who already had Eleanor beat by a few inches at eleven years old. That thrum rose to a near roar.  

     Sam scraped his fork across his empty plate, a deafening, obvious screech. It cut through the tension like a knife through butter. “I’m getting awful tired, Josie,” he said like there were several things he was getting tired of right about now. But his tone softened, directed towards Charlotte. “My old age must be catching up to me.”  

     Eleanor didn’t look up from the tart, uneaten, on her plate. Josie’s voice grated, smooth and polished as it was. “Well, it’s getting late.” Junior didn’t say anything at all; his eyes were still burning a spot into her cheek.  

     They left with the adjusting of coats and kisses and hugs sent Sam’s way, and only Lottie waving her a goodbye, a simple wiggle of her fingertips before her mother grabbed her wrist and tugged.  The closing of the door sounded like a gun going off. Bang.   

     Staring into the empty space where they once were, Eleanor didn’t really know how to feel, her body slumping into a chair set up against the wall of the wide entryway. She sank, boneless, into the countless throw pillows, covering her eyes with the palm of her hand. Her head pounded. “You didn’t have to make them leave, y’ know. It's okay that they're mad at me.”  

     Sam let out a sigh that was equal parts exasperated and fond. “Eleanor, what did I say when we first discussed them coming over?”  

     I know what you said. Still.  “But they’re your family,” she insisted, pulling back her hand to glare up at him. 

     “So are you.”  

     Sam looked at her, backdropped by the several feet long pastoral painting behind him, and must have seen something in her expression—bewilderment, maybe, or discomfort at that bewilderment—because he let out a great sigh. With a rustle of clothing, he crouched in front of her, his forearms resting against his thighs. The set of his jaw said, look at me. And so, she looked. Really looked. He still had a smile for her, small and warm.  

     “And I like you better,” Sam told her, eye-to-eye with her now, and his words spoken with that sort of earnestness in his voice and demeanor that he always had around her, that made her ache when she lingered on the thought of it too long. Like poking at a still-healing bruise. Eleanor tucked her smile into her hand, but it didn’t matter: he grinned back.  

                                          ❀❀❀❀❀❀❀ 

     The Chelsea Physic Garden glasshouses were some of the most beautiful structures Eleanor had ever seen in her twenty-four years. The long glass panels stretched high above her head, matching on either side and meeting in the middle. Plants bracketed her and Sam, the foliage so thick it near shielded their guide from sight, a stout, middle-aged man with his eyes on his watch ever since Sam told him a verbal tour was unnecessary.  

      Huge benches ladened with terracotta pots, blossoming with blues and pinks and purples and reds. Pops of color so bright they were practically eyesores. She thought The Garden of Medicinal Plants’ section on herbal remedies had been her favorite, based on smell alone, or maybe the pond at the center of the garden itself, chock-full of lily pads and mosses, boggy and messy and alive, rife with aquatic life, but this, this took the cake.  

     Eleanor was staring, eyes growing bigger and bigger as she tried to take it all in, when Sam knocked into her arm with something sturdy. It crinkled against the sleeve of her blouse—the present he’d brought with him, tucked safely underneath his arm no matter how much she whined and cajoled. “Finally caving, old man?”  

     Sam rolled his eyes. “Just take it, old woman.” He bugged out his eyes, all drama. “Twenty-four! Already one foot in the grave.” She ripped it out of his fingers with a bark of a laugh.  

     “I doubt you’ve got more than a pinky toe in yours. Gonna outlast us all, remember?”  

     It was his turn to laugh. “Just open it, Eleanor. Before I go greyer, yeah?” 

     Eleanor could live the rest of her life without another gift, but the sound of ripping through wrapping paper was still one of her favorites. All the destruction without any of the guilt. She peeled back the final layer and went still. “Oh,” she whispered, breathy, near soundless. 

     It was a flower dictionary, with deckled edges that fit the tips of her fingers perfectly, the leather of the cover worn and well-loved. The gilded title sent a rush of familiar fondness through her, a rush so strong she was almost dizzy. She laughed. “Where’d you find this? It looks exactly the same.” Exactly the same as the one she’d gotten for her first birthday from Sam, fourteen years old and curious about anything she could get her hands on. Sam hadn’t really seen the appeal in the language of flowers, she knew, but he’d indulged her anyway. It’d been the only thing she’d asked for that year, the only thing she’d really wanted.  

     She’d used it for years, a great reference for whenever she wanted to sketch a particular flower, but it’d been chewed up by Sweet Pea right before she turned eighteen years old, made a total ruin of slobber and teeth indents, the ink all smeared and the spine cracked clean down the middle. An apparently rare edition he’d scrounged up for the first time at an old bookstore in East London, she thought she’d never see the likes of it again.  

     “I have my ways.” Laughing again, Eleanor just shook her head, grinning so wide it hurt.  

     There was an odd bump between the pages, a groove where everything else was smooth, and when Eleanor went to inspect it, expecting a bent page, she found a pressed flower instead. Bookmarking a page of tiny, yellow petals and even tinier rows of font, was a celandine plant, its ruffled leaves still attached. Perfectly preserved.  

     “I did some reading,” he explained, when Eleanor couldn’t get herself to speak. She shook her head until she could breathe right again.  

     “You’re such a sap.” 

     He gave her that smile, the one just for her. And Eleanor tucked the book tight against her chest, holding on. She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Ready to go home?” 

[kayteewritessteve]

DT - Twitter Drunk 2/3

Description: One stupid drunken night leads to an uncomfortable week from hell. That only gets worse when you are forced to face the problems, that your drunken escapades caused, head on. Yeah, you are never going to drink ever again.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 9,250 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Lots of curse words, awkward moments, and a slightly frustrated reader. Little angst here and there, but lots of stupid humour.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Steve’s POV

Steve finds himself seated at the breakfast bar in the towers main living area. Sam and Bucky on either side of him, as they all silently munch away on their individual bowls of cereal.

The tower is relatively quiet this morning, which is both relieving and scary, all at the same time. The tower feels very much like a small child to Steve, when it is eerily quiet, that’s when he truly had to worry. That’s when he should probably go investigate and prepare himself for the incoming chaos that he may find.

Though the fact he can physically see Bucky and Sam currently, does give him some peace of mind. Those two, together, were mayhem and destruction personified. Anytime they were out in the world together, something usually ended up broken. Be it a window, a plate, a car, or Steve’s mental stability.

However, the lack of a Stark currently, in the silence of the tower, was a little unnerving, if he’s being honest. Though at least when Tony was alone, he stuck mainly to only blowing up parts of his lab, or other people’s personal lives. So he didn’t really need as much supervision as the other two did.

But when the three of them were together, now that was another story entirely. They honestly reminded Steve of a show he used to watch as a kid, The Three Stooges. Though they all sort of switched roles, just depending on the day really. However most days Tony was Moe, while Bucky and Sam were Curly and Larry, respectively. But the odd days they’d switch roles, ya know, just to keep things interesting.

Steve sighs quietly to himself at the thought, as he makes a mental note to see if he can track down some of The Three Stooges videos to watch again. He always did enjoy that show—well, that is before he had to basically live it in real life. So yeah, maybe he won’t look those videos up now.

The sound of hasty shuffling feet catches his attention and he looks up just as Moe—excuse me, Tony, enters the kitchen, looking slightly frazzled and far too overly excited for this early on a Saturday morning. Steve internally groans because he knows Stark is about to drop some sort of bomb on them all.

Something clearly happened that Stark finds incredibly funny or worthy of the whole tower knowing right this very second. He is honestly surprised Stark doesn’t just use Friday to play a pre-recorded message throughout the tower so that everyone can learn of the news at the same exact time. That would be far more efficient, if you ask Steve, but does he plan to mention this idea to Stark? Not a hope in hell. That man doesn’t need anymore ideas to help him gossip more quickly and effectively.

No, Steve will just let him continue to work for it. It keeps him busy and less likely to mess with anyone around him, so that’s a small win, in and of itself. Plus he’s pretty sure that Tony truly enjoys actually seeing the looks on peoples faces when he shares his random news with them, so that would probably explain why he does this all in person.

Tony catches sight of the three men and the wicked grin on his face only grows, and this time Steve externally groans.

“There you guys are!” The older man says quickly as he makes his way towards them, “have any of you happened to check out Twitter yet, this lovely morning?”

Steve furrows his brows, yes, he has a Twitter account, but does he actually use it? Hell no. He can barely even figure out what Twitter is for, honestly, let alone how to maneuver the hell site. And anytime he does get on his account, the tweets—what a ridiculous thing to call them—are usually pretty descriptive and very, very highly inappropriate to say to a complete stranger. When Steve had mentioned the aggressive tweets to Sam and Bucky, they had both burst out laughing and when they’d finally managed to reign themselves back in, Sam had told him those were called ‘Thirst Tweets’—Whatever the hell that means.

That was when Steve came to the unwavering realization that Twitter just was not for him. Though Bucky seemed to pick the site up rather quickly, and now he was tweeting with the best of em.

Steve shakes his head at just how stupid those words truly sound. He’ll never fully acclimate to this time, nor the strange and invasive customs, ideologies, and ethics that comes along with it. Don’t get him wrong, this century does have a lot of really amazing features, such as better healthcare, easy access to information, more equality and a larger variety of much, much better tasting foods.

But some days he did miss the simple things from the 40’s. Meeting people in person, going to the movies unbothered, the anonymity that came with a lack of widespread media, and just going out for a drink and some dancing with a good pal or your girl—not that he did a lot of dancing back then, nor did he actually have a girl, but still, life was simpler then, less wasteful and a heck of a lot less superficial.

“No,” Sam answers, and Bucky just shakes his head before following it up with a, “why?”

“Oh, well, then the three of you are truly missing out,” Tony grins widely, his eyes locking with Steves and instantly the latter knows this cannot be good. “Someone wrote a very sweet and long winded Tweet about our little Capsicle here.” He chuckles, gesturing to Steve, and the super soldier is now positive the older man is actually vibrating with excitement currently.

“No way,” Bucky’s eyes grow wide as he quickly pats himself down then pulls his phone from his front pants pocket.

“What does it say?” Sam hastily asks, as he tries to reach across the counter for Tony’s phone. But doesn’t even get close as the billionaire quickly yanks his hand, the one holding said electronic, away from Wilsons reach.

“Simmer for just a moment, my dear Sammy. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’m planning to read it out loud for all of you,” he happily says, putting his phone up in front of his face as he clears his throat loudly. Then he begins to read the tweets, raising his voice probably in an attempt to sound more like a woman.

“‘Do you ever just hear of someone in passing, or see them in the media, and have this instantaneous deep longing emotion within you. Not a longing in the sense of wanting them, but entirely due to hoping with everything inside you that they find their true happiness one day..’‘..‪That they wake up in a few years and smile, like truly smile, because they are exactly where they wanted to be. Where they deserved to be. That they’d ended up with every desire they had yearned for. And I’m not talking about material objects. I’m talking life goals and accomplishments..’‬‪‘..I’m talking about the true important aspects of life. The things that actually matter in the grand scheme of it all. Well, that is how I feel whenever someone brings up Steve Rogers. Or whenever I see an article or a news story about him. I instantly have this desperate want for him..’”‬

Sam cuts in, a goofy grin on his lips, “girl, I feel that. I also have a desperate want for Steve whenever I see him.” He turns to playfully wiggle his eyebrows at Steve, while Bucky and Tony burst out laughing. ‬

‪All of this only causing the blonde to shake his head and drag a large hand down his face in exasperation. Knowing instantly that these 3 were never going to let this go, he just silently prayed that no one else in the tower had seen these tweets yet. Don’t get him wrong, they were sweet as hell, and made a slight blush creep its way onto the super soldiers cheeks, but he wasn’t really a huge fan of the spotlight. Never had been, never will be, and this very much put a blinding light smack dab on his face. ‬

‪Tony quickly attempts to steel himself once again, but he can’t stop the chuckles from bubbling out as he continues to read. Every few words a snort or giggle escapes the confines of his lips. “‘..to be happy. *snort* Truly and utterly happy. The man deserves exactly that, and yet so much more. *small giggle* What with everything he has done for us and this planet. *snort* If anyone in this world has earned their happily ever after, *small giggle* it’s that man.’” ‬

‪Steve just groans and lays his forehead against the cold surface of the counter, as the three men continue to laugh boisterously around him. This couldn’t get anymore awkward and embarrassing, and Steve wasn’t even the one who wrote the tweets. ‬

‪“What are we laughing about?” ‬

‪Whelp, obviously Steve spoke too soon, clearly it could get worse. And much, much worse at that. He slowly lifts his head and then promptly drops it back down to the solid surface with a thump. ‬

‪“Oh Nat!” Tony excitedly calls out, “you’re just in time! We were just discussing the most recent fan tweet for ol’ Rogers here.” ‬

‪“Ah yes,” she snorts, “I also truly hope Steve gets every desire he yearns for.” ‬

‪He doesn’t even have to raise his eyes to know she has a playfully quirked brow at the moment. He can just feel it on her, staring smugly at him. ‬

‪“You saw it already?” Bucky chuckles. ‬

‪“Are you kidding? Who hasn’t?” She cackles, her voice sounding much closer now, “I even already retweeted the entire thing.” ‬

‪“Me too!” Tony quickly chimes in, “I had far too much fun responding to that third part.” ‬

‪“Shit, I need to retweet this now too!” Sam adds, and Steve can hear him shuffling around next to him, most likely attempting to find his phone. ‬

‪“Oh, same,” his traitorous best pal says from beside him and Steve’s head snaps up to narrow his eyes at his buddy in outrage. But Bucky just smirks right back, shrugging his shoulders and then focuses on the phone in his hand. ‬

‪Everyone falls silent as they tinker on their phones, Steve getting up to wash his dishes so he can make a hasty exit from the kitchen. But before he can even turn the water on, a low whistle rings through the room, “damn Punk, you gotta see this dame. She’d give Vivien Leigh a run for her money back in our day.”‬

‪That only slightly peeks Steves curiosity, but only slightly—who is he kidding, that’s a complete lie. The truth is, now he really wants to know what she looks like, but he refuses to let any of these dickheads know that. He’s always had a wee bit of a crush on Vivien Leigh, ever since he’d seen Gone With The Wind. But he ignores Bucky’s obvious use of Vivien to entice him, and instead just nods nonchalantly as he continues to wash his dishes, “I’m sure she would.” ‬

‪“Tin Man’s right,” Sam starts, “this woman is insanely attractive. Steve, man, you gotta check her out,” and just as his friend finishes his words, the unmistakable sound of a stool being pushed back echoes through the room. ‬

‪Steve just hums as he quickly dries his bowl and spoon, before putting them away, “maybe later, Sam. I ah,” he scrunches up his face, which luckily no one can see as he is still facing the cupboards. “I have something I need to attend to at the moment.” Yeah, that didn’t sound convincing or truthful at all. But he doesn’t give anyone a chance to retort as he makes a beeline out of the kitchen. ‬

‪Though he doesn’t miss Bucky playfully yelling, “yeah, I’m sure you do.” And the hidden meaning of those words makes Steve shake his head, and flush just a little as he hastily makes his way down the hallway. Clearly his lifelong best friend knows him far too well, and is more than aware that Steve is sneaking off to both avoid this conversation and privately creep this sweet tweeting woman. ‬

‪Which again those words sound utterly and completely ridiculous to Steve. ‬

‪It had been a couple of days since Tony had come barreling into the kitchen, and since then Steve’s Twitter app had been taking a damn beating. ‬

‪Not in the sense that he’d started posting more, but in the sense that he’d been going on it more. He’d actually asked Bruce that Saturday afternoon if he could walk Steve through how to maneuver the hell site a little better. Figuring Bruce would be the least likely to judge or mock Steve for the request. Nor would Bruce tell the others that Steve had asked, as if they all learned of this, they’d know exactly what he was up to, and why he wanted to know how to use the app. ‬

‪When he’d arrived back to his room after promptly fleeing the kitchen and his overzealous friends, he’d opened the app and tracked down the famous tweets. Which honestly wasn’t hard at all, as damn near everyone Sam had set up for Steve to follow had retweeted the posts by this point. So they were basically his entire main page. ‬

‪He’d clicked around for a bit, until he managed to finally end up on her—Y/N’s page. And then opened her picture only to abruptly drop his phone. Though luckily for the tiny electronic, it never actually met the ground, all thanks to his ridiculously fast reflexes. ‬

‪He’d then just stood there, awkwardly wide eyed and staring at her picture. Because shit, Bucky wasn’t lyin’. She did give Vivien a run for her money. She was stunning, and upon scrolling through her page and reading her other posts, he learned she wasn’t just beautiful on the outside. ‬

‪He’d then noticed a few retweets from some girl named Lindsey, figuring that must be a friend of hers, he opened her page. Instantly noticing a string of retweets of Y/N’s original lengthy post, and jokingly commenting about ‘how much did you drink last night, girl?!’ Though in a lot more words than just that, he was paraphrasing her friends actual response here. ‬

‪And that’s how Steve figured out that obviously when Y/N drank, she wrote sweet and thoughtful messages to and about complete strangers, people she idolized or looked up to, or just plain admired—which yeah, that wasn’t really normal. But in all the best ways. Most people who tweeted him were vulgar and far too descriptive. He honestly didn’t get many heartwarming messages from the public, so these words really stuck with him. They brought a smile to his face. ‬

‪And on top of all of that, she’d been drinking. And most of the drunk people he’d ever encountered were all either loud, rude, belligerent or far too flirty. Booze giving people the liquid courage to say the things they’d never voice sober. Liquor basically heightened a person's internal personalities, which wasn’t always a good thing for some. So the fact that she was so damn sweet when intoxicated, only stood to reason that her sober was probably a true sweetheart, through and through. ‬

‪Which all only made Steve yearn to actually meet the woman behind these thoughtful words. Though he knew that would never actually happen, because reaching out to her now would be weird, wouldn’t it? ‬

‪I mean, would she even want to hear from him? Would she even be interested in possibly meeting him? Would she even respond to a message from him? From the looks of it, she hadn’t posted anything since that night, so maybe she was avoiding her social media at the moment. Maybe she just wanted this all to blow over, and maybe Steve should want that too. Maybe he should just let this all rest, and continue on with his life as normal. ‬

‪It’s not like they’d meet and fall madly in love instantly, or end up becoming something more than that. It’s not like him just letting this whole situation blow over would really affect him all that much, right? Maybe she only felt that way about him because she’d been drinking. What if sober, she had completely differing opinions of him. ‬

‪Yeah, that’s very unlikely, he knows that. But truthfully, Steve was ridiculously nervous at even the thought of interacting with her. I mean, he never really had ‘game with the ladies’, as Sam had put it. And he’d never even really entertained the idea of meeting someone, or dating someone, since he’d woken up from the ice. He’d just focused himself and his mind on his job, and didn’t even allow any hopes of love or a relationship to infiltrate his head. Because he knew once he really, truly thought about it or gave it any weight in his mind, that he’d come to the unwaveringly obvious realization that he was alone. That he was lonely and wanted more than anything to have someone special in his life. Someone who saw him for him, for Steve Rogers the man, and not Captain America the legend. ‬

‪But now all of this had crashed those very thoughts that he’d avoided for so long into his head, like a dang freight train slamming into a car stuck on the tracks. And now all he could think about was how desperately he wanted a person, a gal to call his own. Someone to go to bed beside every night, and wake up wrapped around every morning. A woman to share his free time with, to tell about his days, his stresses, his accomplishments and goals. And have her do the same in return. ‬

‪But even with that all bouncing around in his head, he was scared. Truly and entirely terrified. Because with opening yourself up to another, giving love a shot and taking the leap to see where it goes, came the potential of heartbreak. Came the possibility of ending up hurt and even more alone, if it all fell apart in the end. ‬

‪And yeah, you can’t have true happiness without taking a chance on it. You can’t succeed without first trying. But Steve had struggled his entire life, he’d fought to get where he is today, he’d sacrificed so much of himself and his life to get where he is now. To be at the place he is now, and even though being alone was a sore spot for him, his heart wasn’t tattered. It was fully intact again, and he really just wanted it to stay that way. ‬

‪He’d finally reached a place where he was actually content with his life, where he was proud of who he was and how far he’d come. And he refused to mess with the happy balance he’d found now. ‬

‪Was that a foolish choice for him to make? Oh definitely. But was he going to just continue to be stubborn and pretend like he was truly happy in this moment? Hell fucking yes.‬

‪Steve was ridiculously stubborn, and he fully knew it, and owned it, 100%. ‬

‪Steve walks into the kitchen to grab a midday sneak before heading back to hide in his room. And the second his eyes land on the current occupants of the space he almost groans loudly. ‬

‪Tony, Nat, Sam and Bucky are all lingering around the kitchen island, talking about what Steve can only assume is his personal life. Or rather, the lack thereof. ‬

‪There are only two days left until the press release and Steve has been basically avoiding his friends for the last 2 days. Ever since Tony cornered him in the gym trying to give him the full run down on Y/N. Where she worked, where she’d gone to school, where she’d been born and raised, everything.

‪All things Steve honestly had no business learning from the billionaire. Who had actually proudly admitted to doing a full background check on the woman, as if that was normal to do at a complete stranger. Steve had instantly scolded the man, citing that it was only ridiculously intrusive and unacceptable to creep into someone's personal life like that. Especially someone who none of the team actually knew. ‬

‪She wasn’t some criminal set on world destruction, nor was she a person of interest to the team in regards to a mission. She was a civilian, a regular person, and she didn’t deserve having her entire life picked apart and invaded like that. She deserved her privacy. ‬

‪Tony had then tried to talk Steve into contacting her, even just a small message to her Twitter account to thank her, or something of the like. But Steve wasn’t interested, he was still happily stubborn and pretending to be ignorant to the longing feelings within him when it came to Y/N. Because honestly, he didn’t know her through a dang hole in the ground, let alone should he be feeling this way about a woman he’s never even met, let alone spoken to. This was outrageous, these strange feelings were ludicrous. ‬

‪So no, he doesn’t feel anything towards her. And yeah, he knows wholeheartedly that that’s a blatant lie, but shoot him for trying to think rationally here. For trying to be logical to the fact that one shouldn’t feel this strongly for a damn stranger. So, by day he’ll just continue to fake that he isn’t interested. That he hasn’t checked out her account or photos, that he hadn’t been day dreaming about meeting her. He’ll just continue to pretend like he wants no part of this in front of the whole team. ‬

‪But then by night he’ll check out her twitter, like every night since she’d posted, and wonder what she’s like in person. Wonder if she’s easy to talk to, if her laugh is infectious, if her smile is like the sun, if her mere presence alone is truly calming. ‬

‪She still hadn’t posted a damn thing since the famous tweets, so clearly she was avoiding her social media. She hadn’t even retweeted a single response, nor deleted the original posts. It was like her account was completely frozen in time—pun not intended. ‬

‪Tony had just stood there, continuing to pester Steve about Y/N, up until Steve had opted to completely ignore the man entirely. After he’d stopped responding, Tony had finally dropped the topic and left, but not before vowing to get Steve on board with this ‘operation get Rogers a date’ mission, as the billionaire had hilariously nicknamed it—Note the sarcasm. ‬

‪And once Tony had left the gym, and the door slamming shut had confirmed he was truly gone, Steve had glanced over his shoulder to fully affirm he’d left. And instantly noticed the manila folder sitting on a bench where Tony had been standing. And it didn’t take a rocket doctor to figure out what was in that folder. No, Steve was instantly aware it was most likely a full and complete write up on Y/N. ‬

‪He chose to ignore the folder, or at least he’d put in a solid effort to ignore it. But after a little while—read, literally 2 minutes—Steve finally caved and hesitantly walked towards the folder, wiping his sweaty hands on the towel he’d kept over his shoulder. And once he reached the folder, he glanced around as if to double check there was no one watching or present to witness his next move. ‬

‪Then he gingerly scooped up the folder, staring at the outside for a moment before taking a deep breath in and opening it up. To only be instantly met with a stunning photo of Y/N, that adruptly confirms his earlier thought, her smile is like the sun. ‬

‪And as he delves into every fact and detail about her, all the things Tony had managed to dig up about the woman, the irony is not lost on him. He’d literally just chastised Tony for invading her privacy, and yet, here he was, doing the exact same thing. Lapping up every little detail he could about her. ‬

‪At least Tony had invaded her privacy for semi honourable reasons, he’d only done it to help a friend out. Where as Steve was doing it entirely for selfish reasons. His desperate need to know everything about her, yet being entirely too petrified to actually reach out to the woman, to just speak to her. To give himself the chance to learn all of these things about her, from her, as was the way it should have been. ‬

‪The only thought running through his mind at that point was: What an utter schmuck he’d truly turned out to be. ‬

‪Back in the present, he halts his steps and honestly contemplates if he should slowly back out of the kitchen, before anyone even notices him. But he never gets that chance as 4 sets of eyes snap up to land on him, and he knows escaping now unscathed is highly unlikely. ‬

‪So with a deep breath in, he enters the lions den, entirely prepared for the razzing and ridicule he was about to endure from his, so called, best friends. As they continued to chide him for having not made a move yet, as they continued to inform him that they were displeased with his lack of action in all of this. ‬

‪And as they kept reminding him of what happened the last time he’d waited too long with a gal, and yeah, those comments cut deep. But only because he knew they were entirely accurate, and that’s why they truly cut as deep as they did. He was well aware of his shortcomings in the romance department, but did that stop him from stubbornly pretending like his friends were entirely wrong? Of fucking course not. ‬

‪Because Steve Rogers was thee most stubborn man on the planet, and he was entirely proud of that simple fact. ‬

‪He’s standing on stage, Tony droning on and on about God knows what. Steve had tuned out a while ago, his mind still all over the place. Still focused on entirely different things than the current topic of the day. He should be focused on the facility's grand opening, and Tony’s eloquently chosen words, but yet again, for the millionth time this week, his thoughts are on Y/N. The woman he feels like he knows damn near entirely at this point, yet has never once laid eyes on. Not even so much as seen a glimpse of in real life. ‬

‪And how truly creepy does he sound right now? This was some next level stalker behaviour, as Sam would call it, and he freaking knows it. God, did he know it. ‬

‪Bucky’s elbow making direct contact with Steve’s left side ribs, jars him painfully from his reverie. He manages to only wince slightly at the forceful hit before snapping his eyes at his best pal—who may lose that title soon if he isn’t careful—and glaring at him. ‬

‪Bucky just grins and leans in towards Steve, as he whispers, “don’t look now, Punk, but it appears a little Tweety Bird is in attendance with us today.” Then the brunette nods his head in a direction towards the back of the audience. And yes, Steve is well aware of who he is referring to, as Tweety Bird is the name his ‘friends’ had been using to refer to Y/N as all week. And don’t even get him started on how much that nickname truly irked—‬

‪Hold up. Wait a tick. What did Buck just say? ‬

‪Steve's eyes quickly scan the crowd before landing on her near the back. And God, he couldn’t have missed her beautiful face even if he’d tried. He honestly isn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed her before. His super soldier eyes clearly need to be checked as they so obviously missed the stunning woman hidden in the masses. ‬

‪He finds himself completely and totally trapped in her stare. His eyes locked onto hers as if they were high powered magnets, and not even his super strength could pull them apart now. He is just about to break out into a huge grin, just at the fact he actually got to finally see her in the flesh, but then his mind catches up to the moment. ‬

‪And wait, wait, why is she even here to begin with? ‬

He snaps his eyes to his possible ex-best pal, and narrows them accusingly. If Bucky is behind this, he can kiss his best friend title goodbye. And Steve will happily inform him that Sam has taken up that position now, just to be as petty and childish as he possibly can.

But all he receives in return is a wicked grin from Bucky, as he nods his head towards Tony. And just like that, Steve flicks his intense gaze at the billionaire in question. Wishing in this moment that looks could kill, that he had that super power. Because if they could, if he did, Tony would be laying on the floor right now. But luckily for the smaller man, he doesn’t have that ability, though Tony will wish for a quick death once Steve gets his hands on him.

Once this is all over, and everyone leaves so there are no witnesses, Tony will get what’s coming to him. Mark his words, Tony Stark will learn a valuable lesson tonight—

Movement catches his attention and he flicks his eyes back to see Y/N hastily packing up her things. Wait, she isn’t leaving yet, is she? The press release isn’t even halfway done yet. She can’t just leave, not before he has a chance to actually speak to her. To actually, finally, interact with her. She is here after all, he’d be an idiot if he didn’t use this to his advantage now.

Maybe Tony will be safe after all. He did sort of give Steve this opportunity after all. Maybe Tony’s meddling wasn’t entirely bad this time. Though he would still need a stern talking to about interfering with other people's lives.

Her eyes lock back on Steves and he can see the tears pooling in them now. His perfect eyesight honing in on them, and his heart feels like it’s about to break. She’s tearing up? Why is she tearing up? He sees a tear slip down her cheek as she quickly wipes it away just as she turns and hastily heads for the exit.

And watching her retreating form snaps something in Steve—well that and another well positioned elbow jab from Bucky. As if trying to break Steve out of his head, while also urging him to do something.

Steve shakes his head and then quickly makes his way to the edge of the platform, jumping off it and landing gracefully on his feet before taking off at full speed after her.

Members of the press moving out of his way, and snapping photos as he runs passed. But he isn’t focused on any of that currently, he just needs to reach her, to stop her from leaving just yet. He just wants to meet her, to talk to her in person.

He vaguely hears Tony trying to wrangle in the press, trying to regain their attention as he makes up some excuse for Steve's abrupt exit. He’s guessing Tony saw her leave just like Steve and Bucky had.

He stops when he reaches the first road, and glances around, quickly pinpointing her form hastily walking towards the main road. Her head down as she goes and he begins to jog after her and once he gets close enough he calls out, “Hey, hold up.”

He watches as her steps falter and then stop entirely, her shoulders deflating slightly as her arms rise up a little. Though he can’t make out exactly what her hands are doing currently, but a gut wrenching thought tells him she is probably wiping away more tears. However then she slowly turns to face him, keeping her eyes down as if the ground is the most fascinating thing she’s ever encountered.

And all he wants is for her to glance up, to look at him, to allow him to finally truly take her in. He desperately wants that, he is about to beg her for it honestly. But he is so tongue tied in this moment, he can’t even think of a single word to say. Nor is he sure his voice will even work at the moment.

After a moment though, it appears she’s managed to locate her voice. But she still keeps her eyes down, even as she speaks, and her voice is nothing like he’d imagined it would be. It’s way prettier sounding then his mind could have ever conjured up.

“I um, I’m really, really sorry,” she starts and then clears her throat, “I shouldn’t have come here today. I ah, I didn’t want to ever make you feel uncomfortable in any way. And I guess I just need to apologize to you for my ridiculous antics last week. And ah, and for stupidly agreeing to come to this junket. I’ll just um,” she glances over your shoulder momentarily, as if looking for an escape. “I’ll just be going now,” she quickly says as her eyes finally meet his. And he is instantly aware that she has been crying, confirming his earlier worries. She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder as she takes a small step back. “Sorry again, for um, for everything.”

Their direct eye contact momentarily stuns him, so much so that he had yet to fully comprehend her words. He is just happily lost in this moment, hoping it doesn’t actually ever end.

But then it does, and he is instantly thrusted back into the here and now when she turns and quickly continues down the road. Hastily moving away from him yet again. And fuck that if he is going to let her get away now. Not yet at least.

He quickly catches up to her, softly saying, “wait,” as he gently grasps her elbow in the hopes she’ll turn back around.

She takes a deep breath and then turns to face him again, just as he’d hoped and he quickly, be it reluctantly, removes his hand from her skin. Their eyes connecting once again. And shit, what does he do or say now?

Before he can even realize what he’s doing, his hand rises up to rub the back of his neck as he rips through a bunch of different thoughts as to just how he should proceed here. What he should say to her now.

“I ah, I wasn’t—“ he pauses realizing his mistake then quickly corrects himself, “I’m not uncomfortable about you being here,” he shakes his head, “not at all. I just—firstly, I just wanted to apologize to you, actually. I know they probably forced you to be here today, I don’t really know how, but judging by your reaction to all of this, I’m guessing you really had no say in being here.“ He sighs deeply, “I had no idea that they’d actually invited you, so I can only assume that Tony played a huge hand in all of this. He really likes to insert himself in other people's lives, so I apologize that you got dragged into this. He doesn’t really know when to butt out.”

She nod slowly as her eyes flick down to the ground again, “it’s okay. You really don’t owe me anything, I honestly brought this all on myself. I um, I don’t blame anyone else for any of this, but thank you for saying all of that.” She looks back up at him, “it really helps to hear. This week has just been—“ she halts her words and sighs deeply as she waves a hand around. “Sorry, that’s really not important. Um, just basically thank you, ya know, for easing my mind with all of this.”

He can’t help the frown that forms on his lips, she honestly believes that anything she has to say isn’t important? God how wrong she is, he’d enjoy nothing more than to hear her talk for hours. Even about absolutely nothing. And God, he really shouldn’t be this damn smitten with her already. He shouldn’t be feeling this damn connected to her already. He’s doomed, but yet, he honestly has no issues with that fact. He quickly wipes the frown from his lips and shakes his head, “don’t mention it, but I should really be the one thanking you.”

Her eyes instantly widen, and it takes everything in Steve not to chuckle at the shocked look now on her face. Her eyebrows slowly crinkle in the most adorable way, as her mouth hangs open just slightly. It’s honestly the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen. And he’s seen a lot in his time.

And then she seems to pull herself back together, “I’m sorry if this is rude, but um, why exactly would you owe me a thank you?”

He can’t help the stupid smile that forms as he tries to hide it by glancing over his shoulder to ensure that no one had followed them. Mainly anyone from his team, if he’s being honest. The press following him is nowhere near as much of a possibility as his fellow Avengers, and also nowhere near as embarrassing.

Seeing that luckily no one has, he comes up with a quick plan to ensure that they aren’t bothered or overheard. “I’ll explain all that, but first, can I show you something?”

She nods quickly, “um, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, great. Just uh, just follow me then,” he quickly says before he starts to lead them both towards the spot he’d decided would be the best choice for privacy. And to ensure no one overhears either of them.

Reader’s POV.

You fall into step with the giant man, curious where exactly he is leading you to. He hasn’t said anything since you both began walking and you honestly have no idea what to even say to him. The silence isn’t too bad, though that’s honestly a lie, the silence is actually extremely awkward.

You have no idea what he still has to say to you, nor where your currently heading towards, nor what he feels about all of this. I mean, yeah, he said he wanted to thank you, but for what exactly? You have no fucking clue. And shit yeah, that’s a little unsettling, if you’re being honest.

Your hands start to clam up again, as you keep your eyes down, watching your steps to ensure you don’t eat it. Because that would just be so magical if you did biff it right now. Ya know, in front of Steve Rogers and all.

He’d probably think you were just a ridiculous klutz, or an accident prone nincompoop. But really, you just aren’t the best on heels, and as you both have now left the glorious cement behind and are trekking it through the compound’s vast green space, falling is a very real possibility. You hoofing it through the dang wilderness now, as if you’re some seasoned hiker on a nice, scenic Sunday adventure, instead of a small, sightly out of shape, journalist in high ass heels.

You stealthily side eye your adventure buddy and wonder if he’d give you a piggyback ride. I mean, that’s a ridiculous thought, but like, would he though? Ya know, if you asked really nicely and remembered to use your manners? He is rumoured to have insane strength, so he could probably easily chuck you over his shoulder, as if you weighed nothing at all.

Oh God, why do you now want nothing more in this life, than to be slung over Steve Rogers shoulder like he’s some damn caveman. Shit, yeah, that’d be hot for sure.

You shake your head and stifle the laugh that wants to bubble out of you, as you focus back on the ground ahead of you. What a ridiculous person you truly are. Who even thinks something like that about a complete stranger, let alone Steve Rogers—Though, come to think of it, probably a lot of people think things like that about him.

Once again you feel a large warm hand on your elbow and you halt your steps to glance up at him, curious what’s happening. Oh shit, what if he can like, read minds or something, and just no one actually knows about that enhancement of his? Fuck, please God say he can’t.

Though let’s just test that theory, ya know, just to be sure. Hello? Steve? You there? If you are, fyi, my favourite number is 9. And I think you have a fantastic ass—shit, just ignore that last part—

“We’re here,” he says quietly, and his hesitant expression leads you to believe that he can’t, in fact, hear your thoughts. And thank fuck for that.

You nod—no clue why you do, you just do. And then quickly glance around at your surroundings, only to then have your mouth fall open at the beautiful sight before you.

You hadn’t even noticed where you’d ended up until this exact moment. You are standing on the edge of a large body of water, and with a quick glance over your shoulder you realize you are surrounded by trees. The facilities buildings no longer even in sight, and it fells like you are in the middle of nowhere, like there isn’t a single soul around.

Your eyes slowly slip back up to meet the large blondes piercing blue ones, a smile on your lips. “This please is beautiful,” you whisper before your eyes drift back to the water ahead of you. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“Yeah,” he sighs deeply, “it is. It’s ah, it’s one of my favourite spots on the compound to escape to. Ya know, when I just need a moment alone, or some time to think.”

You side eye him again, seeing him just staring out at the water now, and then your eyes drift back to the water as well. “I can totally understand why, it’s so quiet,” you whisper, as if speaking too loud will ruin the tranquility of the location. “Thank you,” you glance back at him, his eyes on you now. “For showing this place to me, for sharing your secret spot with me. I honestly needed a peaceful moment like this,” you sigh, “it’s just been such a long and gruelling week. So, seriously, thank you.”

He nods, “I’m sorry to hear your week hasn’t been very good. Is there anything I can help with?”

“No,” you shake your head, but then halt the action as a thought crosses your mind. “Unless you happen to have access to a time machine?” You ask playfully.

He chuckles, “I do actually, but why do you need a time machine?”

“Just so I can fix a few mistakes from my past,” you nonchalantly answer, but then his words fully sink in and your eyes widen once again. “Wait, actually?”

“Yeah, actually,” he grins as he brings his index finger up to his lips in a ‘shh’ motion. “But that’s just between us, no one actually knows that we have one.”

“Damn,” you mutter as you glance back out at the water. “And here I thought self driving cars were insanely futuristic. But a time machine blows that out of the dang water.” You quickly shake your head, looking back up at him, “sorry, yes, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul.”

He just smiles down at you, “perfect.”

A few moments of silence go by as you both just enjoy the comfortable moment, just standing quietly at the waters edge. As if time has come to a complete stand still, and no one else exists in the world. But then your mind reminds you of the real reason he brought you here, and your curiosity won’t allow you to stay silent any longer. “Um, I believe you wanted to tell me something,” you turn to face him, giving him your full attention.

“Right, right,” one of his large hands comes up to rub the back of his neck again. “I ah, I just wanted to thank you. Ya know, for all the kind things you said about me. Honestly, it was really refreshing to have someone say all of that to me. I’m not really used to people caring that much about me—“ he shakes his head, “no, that’s not the right wording, I mean more, the sentiments behind your words. Lots of people idolize Captain America, they wish him the best, but not a lot of people actually acknowledge me, Steve Rogers, as a person. So it meant so much to me that you were talking about me, the guy from Brooklyn, and not the hero persona I live in the shadow of every day.”

Before you can think better of it, you reach out to gently lay your hand on his forearm. And yeah, you have to force yourself to ignore the instant tingles and warmth that floods your system, just from merely touching him. This is not the time to perv out.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. You truly deserve so much better than that, and I apologize on behalf of my generation for making you feel less important than the Captain. Because honestly, that couldn’t be further from the truth. There would be no Captain America without there first being a Steve Rogers.” You remove your hand from his arm, “and furthermore, Steve can and will live on without the Captain, but the Captain cannot live on without Steve. It’s impossible, he does not exist without you.”

He just stares at you, silently, as his face holds an unreadable expression.

Feeling like you might have overstepped or said too much, you quickly shake your head, “I’m sorry, ignore me, I’m totally rambling again.”

“No,” he shakes his head now, as if snapping out of it, “please don’t apologize, I was honestly just a little caught off guard by all that you’d said—in all the best ways, I promise.” He smiles, “I can’t even begin to explain how truly amazing it is to actually hear someone say that. After all these years. It’s just,” he sighs contently, “it’s just really nice to hear, is all.”

You smile up at him, glad your rambling meant so much to him. He deserves to hear these things, and you believe every word you’ve said wholeheartedly. You wouldn’t have said them if you hadn’t. You may be a lot of things, but a liar or a fraud weren’t one of them. If you deeply believed something as true, you always voiced those thoughts. “I’m so glad to hear that,” you say quietly as you turn to face the water one last time. “I guess we should probably get back. Ya know, before someone comes looking for you,” you glance up at him and smirk. Knowing full well that no one is missing you currently, but you can only assume Steves absence hasn’t gone unnoticed by his team members, nor the press.

And honestly, you don’t need anymore gas thrown on the raging fire that is your life currently. The press would have a damn field day if they caught wind that you two were hiding out in some secret place, alone—Oh God, just imagine the headlines for that.

He sighs, nodding, “you’re probably right.”

Then with a final glance at your surrounds you both head back, you pull out your phone along the way to finish ordering your Uber. Because you refuse to walk back into the conference, side by side with Steve. It’s probably just best if you leave now, before anyone clues in that you both were together this whole time.

You reach the road again, and luckily managed to not fall or break a heel. Which is honestly a feat in and of itself. You’d have to put ‘skilled heel hiker’ on your resume once you got home. Because honestly, that was something any future employer of yours should really know, and appreciate.

You stop walking and Steve notices instantly, turning to look back at you, his brows furrowed in the cutest way. You have to stop yourself from reaching up to smooth out the lines, because it’s weird to touch strangers, right? Yeah, yeah, it’s weird.

“I’m going to head out, I’m sure I’ve missed the entire last part of the conference by now, and I kind of want to beat the rush of exiting press,” you say, which is all true, you just might have also strategically left out the main reason as to why you’ve chosen to leave early.

He nods, “ah, yeah, that’s a good point.”

You smile up at the beautiful man one last time, you’re not entirely sure if you’ll ever see him again, so you take a moment to memorize his features. Ya know, so you can happily and accurately daydream about him later. But then the sound of an approaching car hits your ears and you glance to see your Uber pulling up and—shit. Of course he would have the fastest response time of any Uber driver in history. Because yeah, clearly you aren’t supposed to spend anymore time with this amazing human. That’s just your damn luck.

You turn back to him, and saying goodbye now honestly sucks, but you both have lives to get back to. “Thank you again for showing me your spot, Steve. And for just taking the time to talk to me, it made my whole week so much better,” you smile as the car pulls up beside you both. The driver quickly confirming you are who he is picking up.

“No worries at all,” he smiles back, “it made mine as well.”

Your smiles grows at his words and you reluctantly force yourself into the car, waving as it pulls away.

And as it makes its way down the road, you slump back into your seat, releasing a deep breath. This afternoon will forever live on in your head; the day you met Steve Rogers in the flesh. It will, from this moment on, be your all time favourite memory, hands down.

Steve’s POV

Steve stealthily makes his way back to the compound, rejoining the touring group as his teammates show the press around the main areas of the facility. He falls into step next to Buck, who is lingering near the back to ensure no press members sneak off or get lost.

“So,” Bucky pipes up quietly after a few moments of them just silently walking side by side. Not even turning to look at Steve, and instead keeping his eyes fixed ahead of them both. “How was it? Did you manage to catch her?”

Steve smiles widely, he couldn’t prevent it even if he’d tried. “Amazing, Buck. I did catch her, and she’s just,” he pauses, no words really holding enough meaning to describe Y/N. “she’s amazing, in so many ways,” he finally finishes, even though the word he’s picked really doesn’t do her justice.

Bucky grins widely, “so, when do you see her next?”

And Steves steps falter just slightly at his pals words.

Bucky stops walking altogether, gaping at Steve. “Punk,” he says slowly, “please tell me you got her number?”

“Shit,” Steve cringes as he stops walking as well, he knew he was forgetting something. He then sighs loudly as he drops his head forward. “I totally forgot.”

Bucky groans loudly, “Punk, we talked about this! Rule numero uno, always get the cute girls number!”

Reader’s POV.

You’re sitting at your dining room table, laptop in front of you as you slowly work on the Avengers article for your boss. You had luckily gotten a bunch of photos and recorded most of the conference, so you have more than enough to work with. Which, thank fuck for that. You really need to keep your job, at least for now, at least until you can secure something better.

Your phone starts to ring and you glance over at where it currently sits on the table beside your laptop. You pick it up and see it’s an unknown number—which yeah, that’s a little odd.

You hesitantly answer, unsure who it could be, “hello.” But then there is no response, you pull the phone away from your ear to see if the call is still active, and it is. You put it back to your ear, “hello?”

“Uh, yeah, hi, sorry. Is this—is this Y/N?”

“It is, may I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s um, it’s Steve,” he says and instantly you almost gasp because how did he— “Steve Rogers,” he quickly clarifies, as if you wouldn’t have figured that out already.

You giggle, because this man is just far too adorable for words. “Hi Steve, how are you?”

“I’m good, I hope you don’t mind that I’m calling you. I was going to message you on Twitter but I honestly couldn’t figure out how to do that. And I’m not really any good at texting, so a phone call just seemed like the best option.”

You smile widely, barely containing your laughter at how flustered he sounds. “I don’t mind at all, it’s so nice to hear from you. Though I am a little curious how you even got my number.”

“I ah, I sort of had Tony look it up for me.”

And that does cause you to laugh, “I should have guessed. So, what can I do for you, Steve? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I just,” he takes a deep breath, and now you swear you can hear voices in the background, you just can’t make out what any of them are saying. A scratchy sound rings through the phone, as if the mic is being covered by something and then you hear a louder muffled voice now, but still can’t make it out. However then the scratchy sound stops and Steve speaks up again, “I ah, I was just curious if you’d be interested in maybe going out to dinner with me sometime this week? I mean, ya know, if you’d be interested in that,” he pauses for a second then quickly adds, “Did I already say that?”

You hold back the excited giggles that want to break from your lips, he is clearly flustered by this and the very last thing you’d ever want to do is make this worse for him. Or to hurt his feelings by laughing at him putting himself on the line like this. Asking someone out is nerve wracking enough in this day and age, let alone when they laugh in your face—or over the phone—directly after you ask.

“I’d love that, Steve. Which day did you have in mind?”

“Friday?”

“Friday is perfect,” you grin widely, then you quickly exchange details and give him your address as he insists on picking you up. You both then say your goodbyes and hang up. And the second you put your phone back on the table, you squeal loudly.

You have a date with Steve Rogers in 5 short days, and you honestly couldn’t be more excited for it. And this all came to pass because you’d been on Twitter Drunk. Who would have ever seen this insane turn of events coming. You certainly wouldn’t have.

And shit, what is Lindsey going to say about all of this? Oh God, when she finds out she's going to just die. You pick up your phone and dial the familiar number, knowing that she’ll be pissed if you don’t tell her right away, or if she hears it from anywhere else other than you.

“Hey Y/N,” her chipper voice plays through your phones speaker.

“Linds, you’ll never guess who I have a date with on Friday. But you have to promise you won’t tell a soul, or so help me God, I will disown you!”

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

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @starstucknature @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie

[skinfeeler]

very serious accusations have been leveled against me recently along the lines of emotional abuse and coercing people into sexual acts. honesty demands that i respond to them.

for whatever reason, this callout starts out by citing my post in a round of discourse that happened about a year ago over this site. the crux of the discourse was that a number of straight trans women (all white) claimed to have it worse than trans lesbians because suffered from physical violence at the hands of men, as if plenty of trans lesbians haven't been in (abusive) relationships with men, experienced violence while doing sex work, or gotten assaulted or threatened in the streets— all of which were claimed to be exclusively or predominantly straight experiences. i stated that they weren't, and that moreover, straight trans women often commit a real and important violence against trans wlw: that of making what few community spaces with proper funding and that are accessible to people not already in the know/well-connected to other trans women uninhabitable to trans wlw. i see this violence as important, and i consider this dynamic inextricable from the suicides of trans wlw in which social isolation and inability to find a support system were leading factors. it was never the equation of 'white trans suicide' with 'twoc murder', since i was (quite on purpose) relating my statements only to the white straight trans women who claimed to be the exclusive victims of violence. it could be said that a large problem with this discourse was in fact that it was mostly white people involved in it, which i'll admit to being oblivious to at the time.

nevertheless, it wasn't the kind of colorblind rhetoric that eris accused me of. moreover, in the context of this callout it kind of only seems to serve the purpose of "dawn said a bad thing and that makes everything i did to her, which i obliquely omit in my callout of her completely warranted," and obviously i can't abide by that, so therefore, this clarification of what i actually said.

now on to what eris actually wanted to talk about.

eris and i had a very troubling association back when we were friends. we flirted a lot, fucked around, but early on in our contact i got raped and my behavior became increasingly erratic. while initially we were headed to a real committed relationship, this acute trauma made a lot of complex and repeated trauma resurface, and with it a lot of commitment anxiety. call it jerking her around, call it sending mixed signals, call it playing with her feelings, i will insist that i simply didn't know what i wanted with her, if i could be with her in any way. i do recognise that this was painful to her. however, the way she frames it, as me purposefully hurting by still talking about other girls i find hot — of course it's easier to be unequivocally into people who you have never properly approached in a romantic sense, when you haven't even gotten close enough to either get rejected or to become stuck together, this much should be easy enough to understand — is completely absurd. frankly, i find this oblique language that describes my behavior as fidgety and neurotic recent rape victim as being emotionally abusive in a real sense insulting and repulsive. i understand that it hurt, and this is part of why i decided to cut ties: we simply weren't good for each other.

frankly the only thing worth taking seriously here at all is the severe accusation of me pressuring her girlfriend jackie into sexual acts and that i did my best to isolate these two from each other and the world at large. it's difficult to exonerate myself here because in order to talk about it, i have to talk about conversations about sex that were had, revealing people's proclivities and in general disregarding a couple boundaries. i can however quite simply state that i never 'punished' eris for talking about jackie by blocking her unannounced: what actually happened is that i tried to negotiate something with eris with regards to jackie and that the only meaningful response i got was her gloating about how she was with jackie (who i had feelings for at the time) but i'm not. obviously that was hurtful, and after saying as much — no worse than "maybe people would like you better if people said things like these" which sure, is mean but not exactly a torrent of verbal abuse — i blocked her for literally less than two days, immediately after which i started talking to her again and which i eventually apologised for. hardly the pattern of controlling behavior i'm being accused of, and certainly not a de facto ban for eris to talk about jackie ever. i understand that eris from this point on may have had trouble speaking about jackie, but i cannot be held responsible for someone being so unwilling to communicate with me and to take care of her own emotional affairs that i end up being blamed for me very simply saying that i am hurt in the most barely assertive of voices.

i will say this much: if you (the reader) and i are close, and you take these accusations seriously, then i am willing to present documents that i believe make it clear that what was stated to happen didn't happen. it takes the form of a small amount of screenshots, a statement by jackie herself (archived on pastebin by herself), as well as my own testimony. all placed into context, it makes it clear what actually happened. the nature of this material is obviously sensitive and of sexual nature, which is why i've treated it with such care up until this point.

i had to search back thorugh logs time and time again to convince myself that i didn't do what i am being accused of and what people tried to browbeat me into believing without even bothering to listen to my narrative (even though accusations of this kind are very severe and they pretended to be friends with me at the time) and i would honestly consider my accusers to do the same. trauma and mental illness can cause memories to be conflated especially in highly volatile situations, but we all have the responsibility to do the occasional reality check which fortunately, given that this is all on record, is extenuatingly easy. i know that i spent many hours doing so.

in short: trying to figure out what i want in a relationship with someone without making this fully clear isn't emotional abuse, the fact that eris felt unwanted does not definitely implicate me as an emotional abuser. i did not pressure anyone into any sexual acts which i can and will prove as necessary— although i refuse to be part of a de facto public court which these people very willingly instated without provocation or any real attempts at reconciliation or respect for the ways in which _they_ severely damaged me in the wake of acute sexual trauma, the ways they were careless with me. please keep this in mind as you engage with my words.

"you are hurting me, we are hurting each other" is the simplest statement to make, and "please do not use private communication channels to contact me and although i am more than willing to share group spaces with you, please do not use group conversations for the explicit purpose of soliciting my attention" is the simplest boundary to set. eris broke that boundary in record time by sending me an ask in which she impugned me as a hulking aggressive troon for so much as me setting it, as part of her long-standing legacy of openly despising trans women who aren't demure like her.

i will not be deterred from doing my best to protect myself, no matter how vile some people may think that to be.

[new2fivesauce]

Please Don't Regret Me - 4. Lavender Sheets

Please Don't Regret Me - 4. Lavender Sheets

4091 words.

No Warnings... I think.

Sorry for the looooooong wait. I hope this makes up for it. I think the ending sucks but I needed to get this out my head fast before I put it off again. Enjoy.

June 2018.

Nelle's departure from being 5 Seconds of Summer’s assistant had been abrupt, leaving her feel like she had left her job incomplete thus causing her to spiral through a series of emotions and phases she believed she hadn’t felt since she was a raging, hormonal teenager.

The day she had given her news, they all awkwardly arrived at the airport at the same time. In her haze of emotions, she had not changed nor cancelled her flight to Australia and since 5sos was also flying international, they were stuck in the same terminal. Luke and Nelle did not speak again since their elevator meet. Michael noticed their tension, but didn’t say anything. His saddened green eyes only flickered between the two as they both tried their best to ignore one another. It wasn’t how she wanted to leave Luke, but she didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Calum, however, was the first to come up to her and apologize, practically beg her to forgive him for being such a selfish, shitty friend. Ashton and Michael followed suit with their apologies letting bygones be bygones. They agreed to keep in touch; everything returning to somewhat normal although the guys still looked bummed walking towards their flight with their new assistant.

She’d spent a couple weeks in Australia, staying in the house duplex she and Calum had bought together with their first good paychecks, but had hardly used due to constant traveling. She spent time with her parents, visited the guys' families, cleaned their empty homes to not waste money on a cleaning service, and took the duties of taking care of Duke from Mrs. Hood. Nelle also hung out with a few old schoolmates but quickly regretted that choice. They all seemed to “remember” how good friends they were, trying to manipulate Nelle for favors or money only because she knew “certain” people.

Mali-Koa, Calum’s sister, came to visit one week. She’d heard the news of Nelle’s leaving, and insisted that she come back with her to London.

“Girl, you needed a break from those dweebs anyways.”

So she did.

Nelle didn’t last very long in London though. Word had been passed of Nelle’s whereabouts which caused a very weepy, distraught Michael to leave a lengthy voicemail about betraying them for Cal's bitchy sister. She wasn’t really enjoying her time in London anyway, leaving Mali about 3 weeks later. She made a quick visit back to Australia before deciding that perhaps living in her vacant loft in Manhattan wouldn’t be such a bad idea. She’d let Calum know that Duke was coming with her before departing to the Big Apple.

She’d only been in NYC for two days when she’d run into a childhood friend that was not Calum.

Sasha Hendricks had been Nelle’s best friend when their parents were in the Army. They’d lived on the same bases and traveled the world together before Nelle’s parents settled in Australia and Sasha’s in Texas. Every year, before Nelle took on her job with 5sos, the girls alternated spending summers with one another in their country. They hadn’t seen much of each other in more than five years so no doubt it was a huge surprise when they both walked into the same small, cozy café.

Sasha had derailed from her parent’s Army footsteps to become a model. Not in the big leagues with faces like Kendall Jenner and Gigi Hadid, but she was aiming to get there.

With Sasha there, she didn’t feel so alone in the big city. It made her move a lot easier to handle but also there was just something about the city of New York and all of its noise that made Nelle feel at her calmest. She hadn’t been in the city for more than a two weeks now but if she had to be completely honest with herself, this was the best she’d felt in a long time.

<<*>><<*>>

Duke pushed ahead of Nelle, clearly already knowing his way around their block. He sniffed along a passerby's shoe, received a compliment from a passing child, and then decided he has enough the outdoors. He led the way back to the loft.

Nelle had just passed her building lobby’s front desk, when the security officer called her back. She looked down at Duke, where he was already looking up at her as in saying Oh shit, what did we do?

“Padilla, right?” the officer asked her from behind his desk. Nelle nodded slowly. “A package arrived for you while you were gone. Delivery guy didn’t want to leave it outside your door.” He said this as he retrieved a rather large box from the floor next to him. He heaved it over the desk and slid it over to her. She glared at the box hesitantly, not sure if she could carry it up to the 5th floor by herself.

“It’s not as heavy as it looks.” Security said, noticing her expression.

She thanked him for holding her package, grabbed the box awkwardly… he was right. It was not as heavy as it looked, then proceeded, with Duke at her feet, to the elevators.

Nelle barely made it inside her loft with the enormous box. Sure it didn’t weigh a ton, but five floors was a long time to be carrying a box.

Duke ran in, going straight to his water bowl near the kitchen. He didn’t care when Nelle set the cardboard box next to him. She went into one of her kitchen drawers, pulling out a knife to cut through the tape sealing the flaps down.

There were five thin, but square shaped boxes inside with a thousand packing peanuts. She made sure to carefully remove the small boxes without making a mess of the peanuts. She couldn’t risk Duke swallowing one up. The thought of telling Calum if such thing happened nauseated her.

Nelle was in the midst of opening the first thin box, when there was a knock on her door. Duke peeked around the kitchen corner to look at the door suspiciously. He growled a bit as Nelle went up the door.

“Duke… it’s just Sasha.” She clarified after peeping through the door hole and swinging the door open.

Sasha sauntered in, wearing a very see-through top and what looked like plastic pants. Her feet kicked off the six-inch heels with a sigh of relief. One heel slid close to Duke; he growled at it.

“Yeah, pipsqueak. It’s just me.” Sasha stuck her tongue out at the small dog. Nelle thought she imagined Duke rolling his eyes at the model.

Duke was kind to everyone… well almost everyone. Sasha had accidentally stepped on Duke's paw on their first meet. Ever since then, he tolerated her. He let her pet him but for the most part, he just stayed clear of the tall brunette.

Without another word, Sasha found her way to Nelle’s bedroom, emerging ten minutes later in a pair of Nelle’s Halloween pajama pants that were slightly too short since she was taller than Nelle and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt that fit too big.

Nelle hadn’t noticed Sasha wearing the shirt until she came up beside her about to open the first of five packages. Seeing her friend in the shirt made her freeze, her throat closed around a sudden lump that made it almost too hard to speak.

“Hey Sash… where’d you get that shirt from?” Nelle croaked. Sasha shrugged.

“Your suitcase. Why?” the girl looked down at the shirt and suddenly a zesty whiff of it caught her nose. Sasha hardly hung out the boys, only when she been to Australia during the summers, but she knew a guy smell when she smelt it and by the way Nelle’s face had gone temporarily pale, she slowly retreated back to the bedroom because she now realized this was not just some random shirt. Sasha knew all about Luke. She knew it was a bit of a touchy subject. She quickly changed into another shirt that was lying around.

Finally, when Sasha came back into the room, Nelle opened the awaiting first package. The flaps of the skinny box opened fully until they were flat against the kitchen counter surface. Staring up at her were four familiar faces in various shades of yellow, violet, and blue. The word YOUNGBLOOD was written across the middle in a graffiti red font. Nelle carefully lifted the plastic entrapped vinyl record from the cardboard.

Sasha, hovering over her friend’s shoulder, whistled lowly. “Damn, you didn't tell me Cal looked that good now!”

Nelle snickered and threw back a playful hit to Sasha's side. “I've tried to hook y’all up multiple times. You two just hate love so much.” Sasha scoffed as she pulled the new record from Nelle’s grip. She flipped it over to see the back and the track listing.

“Oh, I’ve heard Want You Back just the other day. Was Luke singing about you?” Sasha mused as she put the vinyl down and helped open the other boxes. There were two more of the same record, two CDs, and finally at the very bottom of the original box under the packing peanuts was the band’s clothing merch to go along with the new era.

Nelle ran her hand over the material of one of the shirts that showcased the boys' faces. Her fingers lingering over Luke’s face. “Nah. That song was written before I left.”

Sasha’s eyebrow quirked up, but she shrugged her shoulders. She held up one of the CD albums. “Should we listen?” Nelle nodded. “Good, because we were going to regardless.”

<<*>><<*>>

Nicole: Welcome back everyone. If you’re just tuning in, we have 5 Seconds of Summer in the studio right now! They’ve just released their new album and they were thoughtful enough to stop by today to talk about it. Guys, why don’t y’all say hello again.

Michael: Hey, I’m Michael.

Ashton: I’m Ash.

Calum: Calum, here.

Luke: And I’m Luke. We’re 5 Seconds of Summer.

Ryan: We have a few more questions from our callers. This one is from Mary: Youngblood is obviously the principal track seeing as it’s also the name of the album. Did you know that that was going to be the name of it or was it like a damn, we forgot to name the album, quick, just pick a song to name it after kind of thing?

Michael: HA! Yeah, that last option. Without a doubt.

Ashton: No, really! It was. We had other titles that we were referring the album to during the recording session, but we had to scrap a bunch of songs and basically start over. The album wasn’t fully completed and to our satisfaction until just last month. We had the promo pictures, the whole works, and then they were like ‘Is this going to be named Untitled?’ and Mike was like ‘What’s our next single? Just call it that.’

Nicole: Woow! I guess your fans really know you, huh? So I’ve been listening to it pretty much on repeat and some of these songs are really deep, heart wrenching, very mature. Very different from your previous albums. Can you explain the writing process and how this album was not like the others?

Luke: With Youngblood, they gave us a lot more creative permission, I guess is the right way to put it. Our other albums were done when we were teens so lyrically and musically, they didn’t give us as much freedom as they did with YB. We had to take a break after the release and touring of the second album because we were just so worn down; our physical and mental health were at an all-time low.

Ashton: It just sucked, really. We couldn’t focus or concentrate on what was going to be our new album when we just weren’t feeling like ourselves. Halfway into our break, Want You Back just came to me. When I played it through for the first time to the guys, everything else just came naturally from there. I guess that would be the rawness and deep, wrenching sound you hear so different from our previous work.

Ryan: One of our listeners is asking if any of the songs are about anyone in particular. Girlfriend maybe?

Calum: Umm… no? Ha, I don’t think so. At least none of the songs that I input in aren’t about anyone. I mean… sure, we take from our past experiences and put them into song, but for me, that’s a no.

Michael: Cal is anti-love, everyone. I think, like Cal said, we take from our past experiences; we’ve been up, down, and around the world for a long time. That does it make difficult to be in a relationship with someone and actually make it work. I’ve tried, Ash has tried, we all have. It’s just not in our cards right now.

Ashton: Unless you count our personal assistant…

Nicole: Whoa! Personal assistant? Who’s dating the personal assistant? … … Listeners, everyone is looking at Luke.

Ryan: Aww, he’s blushing.

Calum: He’s not dating our personal assistant. What Ashton means is… our EX-assistant, who had been with us since before the beginning, ya know, quit on us just before we released Youngblood the single. We’ve never been with any other assistant than her. So, it’s been challenging to say the least and Luke, who’s probably the most dependent person EVER, has been having a grueling time adjusting without her here.

Ashton: Yeah, yeah! Nelle was the best! She was like f*cking top-notch. I think like Rihanna, One Direction before their hiatus, uhh, I want to also say Fifth Harmony have tried to hire her when she was still with us. She’s like the fifth member of the band. She’s the fifth Second.

Michael: Dude, that was lame. But so damn true. Funny story, she used to come out in a lot of our paparazzi pictures and the fans would just ugh, be so nasty to her because they thought she was one of our girlfriends or whatever. We had to come out with a statement saying like yo, chill, she’s just our assistant, she means no harm, she’s just walking me to McDonalds… Then the fans were like OMG Nelle has the best style and she’s so beautiful blah blah blah. So, she’s a Yale student now with one of those influencer instas… so make sure to follow @seeyouneller…

<<>><>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The hotel room was tense. No one dared to make a sound as Luke paced back and forth. His fury running off him, his hands were clenched at his sides, his mouth in a scowl, his light blue eyes were dark as the ocean floor.

Calum nervously looked at his blonde friend, worried that even just glancing at him might cause Luke to erupt. The longest five minutes passed before Luke stopped walking. He turned his body to the cowering three. He inhaled and then signed the heaviest sigh.

“I swear, you have the biggest fucking mouth!” Luke exclaimed towards Ashton.

Ashton shook his head, his red locks bouncing around his head. The newly dyed red hair matched Ashton’s hot head nature and with Luke going off on his, Ashton didn’t know how much longer he could hold it in.

“It was just a statement! I didn’t exactly say Oh Luke is dating our ex-assistant because it’s not fucking true. It was just a quip. You two left off on… whatever the fuck ya’ll left off on, so… It was nothing, Luke.”

Luke glared at the drummer. His breathing was hard, making it look like his whole body was shaking. His fists were clenched at his side, knuckles white to the bone.

“Yeah, dude. I mean, it could have been me who was dating her.” Michael chimed in. “Sorry we looked at you. I don’t know what to really say… It’s just one interview of like a hundred that we’re going to do. No one is going to get anything out of it.”

Calum, who had remained quiet this whole time, suddenly cleared his throat. His friends all turned to him, Luke’s eyebrow raising in a bold way.

“You know we are in New York though.” Calum started. “And we were on satellite radio… You guys remember Sasha… Nelle’s other best friend. Would spend the summer with her every other year? Had braces for like ever then the last summer she visited, she was super hot?”

“Yes, we know you have the hots for her.” Ashton said exasperatedly. “What about her?”

“Anyway, she texted me. She heard the interview. Nelle listen to it. No biggie.” Calum tried to smile, but failed tremendously. Michael darted his eyes to Luke.

“We didn’t say anything bad about her. She’s fine, right? Fuck… I should text her. We should ask her to get dinner with us. She’s back at the loft, right?” Ashton pulled his phone out his pocket as he spoke. He was already tapping rapidly on his phone before anyone could answer.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. “You’ve been talking to her?”

At this question, Ashton slowly lowered his phone to his lap. He gulped audibly. His words were stuck in his throat. He hadn’t meant to slip up. It had been decided that he with Michael and Calum were not going to tell Luke where Nelle was living at. He had already tried to follow her to Australia once and London.

It had been unpredicted what each member would go through at Nelle’s departure. Calum was sad for a few days; he wasn’t sure what to do with himself without his travel buddy, but quickly adjusted to the new assistant. Michael, too, was upset, but he was adapting well. Ashton wallowed for a bit, maybe more so than Calum and Michael, because like Luke, he still crushed way too hard on Nelle. He knew that there was nothing ever going to happen between the two; he’d realized that Nelle did have feelings for Luke, so he had to get over it, and she was always a text or phone call away, so the adjusting wasn’t too difficult. It was just she was not there anymore, physically.

However, Luke went through a tantrum phase. Anything the new assistant did was absolutely wrong. He blew up at the smallest things. If he asked for room temperature water, but got slightly cool water, he would throw a bitch fit. He distanced himself from the band for a bit. He only spoke with them when they had shows or interviews. He’d stayed locked up in his bus bunk, hotel room, wherever they were staying at. He’d text Nelle and she’d never reply. He had tried to go Home whenever he’d spoken with his mother and she told him that Nelle had just left her house. He tried to go to London when he’d overheard Michael leaving a rather upsetting voicemail about her disowning them for Mali-Koa. The sudden vastness of her being not there threw him for a loop. This crush, intense liking, feeling for her was messing with him severely. If she’d departed the band at any other time, he knew he wouldn’t be reacting this way. She just had to leave when his emotions for her had just blossomed.

Fuck.

Calum suddenly raised up from his spot on the couch. He was nervously spinning his phone in hand, checking the time after every third spin.

Suddenly he stopped, facing Luke. Calum’s head tilted slightly, confused at once.

“I just don’t fucking get it.” He mused. This time it was Luke to look bewildered. “Why? Why are suddenly so strung up on Nelle? You’re acting so clingy and it’s weird. You’ve never shown any interest in her. We go on hiatus, start touring again and all of sudden you’re acting like her boyfriend. Giggling, sleeping in her room, fighting to sit next to her, inside jokes…”

“Ya know… now that you’re saying it like that, it definitely seems like Luke is keeping something from us.” Michael chimed in. Ashton’s head perked up towards the front man. Could Luke been harboring a secret this long, months on end? Luke was never good with keeping quiet.

Luke’s eyes darted around his bandmates. His scowl dropping, being replaced with nervous lip chewing and nervous hand twisting.

He inhaled and exhaled heavily.

“We kissed.” He blurted out after what felt like minutes of awkward silence and three pairs of eyes awaiting eagerly.

Michael clutched his imaginary pearls, his very exaggerated gasps filling the room.

“What? When? Where? HoooOOOOoOW?” he howled. Calum shot him an annoyed glance.

Calum was neither shocked nor upset about the statement. He just wanted to know what happened between his two best friends. He just wanted his band to go back to normal.

“It was when we were on break.” Luke exclaimed. Ashton’s eyebrow raised. He recalled him spending time with Nelle, not anymore than usual, yet she never brought up the fact that she had kissed one of his best friends.

“Well that explains fucking everything.” Michael stated sarcastically. “C’mon, there’s gotta be more.”

Luke sighed, shaking his head.

“I was supposed to be doing my therapy sessions, but every time I'd get in the car, I’d have these intense anxiety attacks that kept me from driving. I told Cal and he suggested he drive me… I said okay and on the next time I went to his house so we could ride together. He wasn’t there but Nelle was.

“She was supposed to be on vacation just like us but I explained to her what had happened and she insisted. She took me to my session and we got lunch afterwards. It was weird. We didn’t say much, just made polite conversation.

“On my next session, same thing happened. Cal forgot, wasn’t home, Nelle took me. It became a routine. She took me to all my sessions even after I objected to wasting her time and I could easily get my mom or one of you to take me.

“The day that Ash came up with Want You Back…” Luke paused, his cerulean blues looking towards Calum wearily. “After the session, I was reading the texts from you, telling me to all meet at Cal's because Ashton called a band meeting so we got there but obviously no one was there yet. Nelle invited me into her house. I’d never been inside but that time we helped her and Cal move in…

“By this time we had kind of become friends but there was this tension and I know she felt it too. Next thing I know we're making out… like full-on making out, with her pulling me towards her room. We get in there and we collapse on her bed. I remember black everything and lavender sheets. It smelled like her pop rocks smelling lotion with a twinge of weed. We're kissing. Intensely.”

Luke stopped talking again. All the boys were staring at him, in awe of the story he had been struggling to keep internal. Calum noticed the way Luke reached up to place a hand on his chest; he clutched the material of his gray shirt, a far off in the distance glassy gaze on his handsome face.

“She heard Calum’s car on the driveway before I did. I’d been so absorbed in her, thinking how the fuck is this happening? Is this really fucking happening right now! She separated from me so fast that I felt literally cold and empty. Then she acted like nothing happened. She didn’t say anything about it. Just went on like… as if it just didn’t occur.

“But I couldn’t forget. I tried to talk to her about it and she just acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about so I did the same. Then we started touring again and working on the new album and it was a distraction. A good one… until I realized that I liked her. That’s why I was getting to know her, bothering her, hanging around her. She couldn’t tell me no knowing that it would look suspicious to you. I think she gave in to me eventually because I know she feels the same. She feels the same way I feel for her.

“And I'm sorry. I’m sorry to all three of you for keeping this secret. For being a fucking asshole. I just… I think it’s beyond the like stage. I think I’m like… at the L-word stage.”

[maarmendes]

Extra #2 - Meeting The Class

A/N: Sorry for the delay guys! I wasn’t happy with how the most recent chapter turned out so I had to rewrite it... twice! :^D Meanwhile have this extra bit while I work on chapter 10 and 11 and also another extra I’ll be dropping after chapter 10 hehehe blessed be! <3

EXTRA CONTENT: What happened when Ana met each classmate for the first time?

Yuga Aoyama

Ana was heading back to class after going to the bathroom when she bumped into him. She apologized and tried to move out of his way but he held her shoulder.

"Don't Move." He whispered and Ana froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. The boy proceeded to untie her hair, combing it back. She was expecting it to hurt but it felt nice, the boy was gentle as he messed with her hair. For Ana her hair was fine, but as soon as Aoyama laid eyes on her this morning, he was annoyed. She had her hair tied up in such a messy way... Aoyama couldn't take it anymore. When he saw her walking back to class, - after obviously seeing herself in the mirror and DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT - he had to take matters into his own hands.

"There you go, Darling. Much better!" He held up a pocket mirror for Ana to check his handy work. He had braided her hair beautifully over her shoulder.

"Oh, my God! It's beautiful. How did you-"

"You're welcome." He winked and walked away, leaving a confused but happy Ana behind.

Mina Ashido

Mina was one of the first classmates to approach Ana. She was the first to ask all kinds of questions about Ana's family and quirk. She was also the first to ask Ana to have lunch with them. They became instant friends, hitting it off almost immediately like they were meant to be. Mina thought she met her soulmate when Ana always finished all the lyrics she started singing.

"I can't believe you know so many songs!"

"I mean, they're not my style... But I'm a bit of a music freak."

"OH MY GOD, YOU GOTTA MEET JIRO!"

Mina tried to introduce Ana to everyone but mostly just ended up rushing it and dragging Ana into another group of people, and another... and another... and another... Until she finally let Ana settle down. In the end, no one got to know anyone, especially not Ana, but she still appreciated Mina's excitement.

Tsuyu Asiu

They met when Mina asked Ana to have lunch with her. The girls all sat together and introduced themselves. They both told each other to refer to themselves by their nicknames and bonded over how adorable both names were.

"Ana, about you telling us to get to know each other slowly..." Tsu shyly faced Ana. "I'm sorry if we made you feel overwhelmed. I hope we can be good friends in the future."

"If you keep being that cute, I think I might just offer you my soul, Tsu." The girls laughed. "It's okay, I'm okay, everything's okay!"

With a pet on Tsuyu's head, Ana figured she'd made the sweetest friend she could ever wish for.

Tenya Iida

Ana was annoying Bakugo early in the morning when Tenya approached them. She was sitting on Bakugo's desk who had his feet up. Tenya cleared his throat to get their attention and began his rant.

"Bakugo Katsuki and Shuzenji Anahita! How dare you disrespect school's property like that! Show some respect! Especially you, Bakugo! It's the second day in a row I catch you in the act!"

"The fuck did you say to me? You wanna die or something, shitty glasses?!"

Ana watched the boys bicker and soon an entertaining idea came to mind.

"How about you guys arm-wrestle and whoever wins tells the other what to do?"

It was a joke but the boys took it seriously. Ana was impressed by how much of a fight the class rep put up but in the end, Bakugo obviously won. The winner completely forgot his price, too engrossed in his celebration, so Ana decided to claim the price.

"Since my friend won, it's time for our price..."

Ana made Iida sit on the desk next to her for the rest of the day. Even during class.

Ochaco Uraraka

It was time to try on their hero suits and the girls made their way towards the changing room. Ana was adjusting the belt around her waist while waiting for the others when Ochaco gasped behind her. She turned to see the girl pointing between themselves. At first, she didn't get it but then... The resemblance... Bodysuits, belt, helmet... If it wasn't for Ana's suit being blue and Uraraka's being pink, they'd look exactly the same.

The girls got dragged out before they could talk about it but once outside there was an opportunity, and so the Pink and Blue team was born!

Mashirao Ojiro

In between classes, Mina was chatting with Ana but her attention was elsewhere. The boys tail was swaying has he talked to his friends and Ana couldn't stop staring in wonder.

"Ana! Did you even hear me?! What are you staring at?"

"Do you think Tail Boy is strong enough to let me sit on him?" Mina blinked for a minute before staring at Ana with a perverted smile on her face. "His tail, Mina! Sit on his tail!"

"Why don't you try to ask him?" Ana scowled at Mina. "I bet ten bucks you won't do it."

Ana was on her feet so fast her chair nearly fell over and walked over to Ojiro's group.

"Hey, Tail Boy, is your tail strong enough for me to sit on like a chair?"

"Probably... Yes?" The boy had no idea what the hell was happening but still answered the tiny girl.

"So... Can I?"

With that Ana sat on the boy's tail, pinching him when he commented on her being lighter than he expected. Mina couldn't stop laughing with her phone out, either recording or taking pictures of them. At first, he was flustered and didn't know what to do since Bakugo was glaring at him from across the room, but soon followed Ana's playfulness as she tried to balance herself on his tail.

"It's unbelievably soft, that's so cute!" Ana petted the boy. "Sorry, Ojiro. This was supposed to be a bet I made with Mina but now I'm way too into it."

"Oi! Get back here, pipsqueak!"

Thankfully Bakugo rescued Ojiro from having to carry Ana everywhere with him. The boy could only think that Ana was unexpectedly childish and weird, not in a bad way though.

Denki Kaminari

As per usual, Ana, Mina, Bakugo, and Kirishima were hanging out in-between classes when someone decided to insert themselves into the group.

"Hey, hey, hey! Who's the cutie?"

Kaminari wrapped an arm over Kirishima's shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Ana.

"Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"

Ana scoffed at Kaminari's bad attempt at a pick-up line, and so the war began.

"Nice one, blondie. I hope you know CPR because you just took my breath away!"

"Good... But not good enough! Let me guess... Your middle name is Gillette, right? 'Cause you're the best a man can get!"

"HAH! Is there an airport nearby, or was that just my heart taking off?!"

"Go ahead! Feel my shirt! Boyfriend material!"

"Oh, wait... wait, where... where's my... Oh no, oh fuck..." Ana suddenly got serious, patting her pockets and looking through her bag. The look of pure dread getting the group's attention.

"W-what? What's up?" Kaminari grew worried the more frantic Ana seemed, instinctively putting his hands up as if signaling Bakugo he did nothing.

"Oh no... I lost my phone number... Mind if I have yours?" Ana gave Kaminari a big smirk and an innocent look as she dropped her desperate act. A few frustrated grunts and sighs of relief come from the group and the boy announced her victory, both becoming friends on the spot.

"What the fuck did we just witness..." Bakugo asked Kirishima, who only gave him a shrug.

Eijiro Kirishima

After witnessing Ana's argument with Bakugo, Kirishima couldn't stop worrying about the girl. He knew Bakugo was pissed but Bakugo is always pissed. Ana was coming back to class with Bakugo who left her soon after, giving Kirishima a chance to talk to Ana.

"Hey, Ana..." The girl looked up at Kiri with a smile. "Sorry to bother you, I was just checking how you're doing, and- Why are you in your gym clothes?"

"Oh! Some stupid bitch with some kind of water quirk picked a fight with me, what an idiot. Don't worry, she got what she deserved!"

Ana put her bruised fists up in a fighting stance and Kirishima stood frozen in place feeling stupid for even worrying about her in the first place. As Ana told more details about the fight he couldn't help but laugh.

"What?! I'm serious! I knocked her nose real good!" Ana pouted to which Kiri couldn't help but pat her head.

"No, no, it's not that! It's just... I was worried about you and the whole Bakugo thing, but I guess there's no need for that."

"That's cute but I can handle myself. Thanks for caring though." Ana gave the boy a hug which he gladly returned.

"No problem, Cutie!"

From then on Ana and Kirishima referred to each other with random pet names and found it entertaining to never explain Bakugo why.

Koji Koda

Koda usually feels bad when he's stuck inside for long periods of time, so when the bell rang signaling lunchtime he decided to take a walk around campus. When passing a tree behind the building, he heard a small meow coming from above.

Ana was trying to escape Bakugo and find a quiet place to rest and figures the back of the building would be deserted. But, when she was passing by a tree, she wasn't expecting what she heard.

"U-Uhm... E-Excuse me..."

"God? Is that you?"

"Uhm... No?" Ana looked up to see Koda sitting on a tree branch hugging a small kitten to his chest. "I-I'm... I'm s-stuck."

Ana couldn't stop laughing while she climbed the tree to help both the boy and the kitten getting down. Once the boy got down and the kitten was safe and sound, she finally stopped laughing and asked the boy.

"Next time you try to rescue an animal, be careful not to get stuck too, ok?" The boy nodded shyly. "So, what now? What are you gonna do with the cat?"

"Oh! Principal Nezu said I can't keep any animals on campus..."

"Then let's hide them until we find a place for them!"

The boy was ecstatic! One of them found a box, another one got some blankets and both built a small house for the small kitty. Coming back the next day, Koda found Ana already there, feeding a bunch of cats.

"Koda, look!" Ana held up what Koda assumed was the kittens' mother. "Mama Kitty came to get her baby and decided to stay! We have a family now!"

In the end, Koda convinced Ana they couldn't find a home for all those kittens alone, so she decided to ask the person she trusts the most for help. And that is how Aizawa got so many cats.

Rikido Sato

Living in the dorms was already weird enough for Ana since she never really had a big lively home. Her grandmother was quite rowdy but even with Aizawa there, the house was never as vivid as the dorms were. So it wasn't unusual for Ana to have a tough time sleeping. She had just given up on sleep and decided to get some coffee and just stay up all night when she stumbles into Sato in the kitchen.

"What are you doing? It's like 4 am." Ana mumbled and then noticed the sweets on the boy's hands. "I thought you had an oven in your room."

"I do! But then the room smells like sweets and it becomes a bit unbearable and the boys have been complaining about the smell and-"

"Did you break it?" The boy nodded. "Lemme eat and I won't snitch."

Both of them spent the next couple of hours in the kitchen. Ana would taste-test all the sweets and gave feedback to Sato who would bake something different. Once the sun was up and people started to walk around the dorms, Iida found them on the kitchen floor sleeping, Ana still had sweets on her lap and Sato was filled with flour. Neither of them ever talked about what happened that night but when Ana is looking tired, Sato secretly shares some of his sweets.

Mezo Shoji

Aizawa was giving the class instructions on what the training exercise would be when someone interrupted him. The class was all standing on the field waiting for instructions when Aizawa said he had to leave for a minute, giving them orders to behave and work out or their own. Once out of sight, Mina and Ana exchanged looks.

"Hide and Seek?" They both agreed, getting a few students to join them. Luckily, Ana wasn't it. She ran around to find a place to hide until she had a brilliant idea.

"Mezo! Can you hide me? Quick!" The boy said nothing, just wrapped his arms around the tiny girl, holding and hiding Ana behind his back. She muffled a laugh when Mina ran by and even the boy had to hide his mouth to avoid laughing. Not too long after, Mina approached the boy.

"Mezo... What you got there, sweety?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Just drop her, Mezo! I know she's in there!" Mina tried to tickle Mezo.

"Don't betray me, Mezo!" Ana yelled from behind him.

They were all laughing and fighting in their own playful way when they hear someone clearing their throat.

"If you have that much energy, how about you guys do some extra training after class?"

They all grunted at Aizawa's punishment as they got back with the others. Ana tried apologizing for getting Mezo into trouble (Mina thought it was offensive she didn't get an apology) but the boy paid her no attention, saying he had fun anyway, so he didn't regret it.

Kyoka Jiro

Much like some other girls, they met during lunch. Mina yelled about how Ana knows a lot about music and Jiro's ears perked up. For a moment they just stared at each other until Jiro broke the silence.

"Queen?"

"Bohemian Rhapsody."

"Nirvana?"

"Lithium."

"Metallica?"

"Master Of Puppets."

"Red Hot Chilli Peppers?"

"Otherside."

"Pink Floyd?"

"Their whole discography."

They both laughed and fist-bumped each other. The other girls didn't get it but what matters was that they bonded over their music taste. Since then, both Ana and Jiro lent vinyl albums to each other that they think the other might like.

Hanta Sero

The class was having mock battles during training and Aizawa refused to split the class since in real combat there were no differences in gender or of any other kind. So, Ana and Sero got paired.

"Are you sure you want this? I don't want to fight a girl."

Ana ignored him and Aizawa smirked behind Seto. The whole class shivered at the sight. He blew the whistle and Ana was as quick as ever sliding under Sero's legs to get on his blind spot and knock him off his feet. He was stunned on the floor, Ana standing over him.

"So, is it that you don't want to fight a girl or that you can't?"

Ana offered a hand to help him up. Sero chuckled and nodded with a new-found respect for the small girl.

"I'm sorry I disrespected you. Let's go again. This time for real."

"Good."

They both did their best but, in the end, Ana had more fighting experience than him and won the mock battle. After that, Sero would often ask Ana to train with him to help him get stronger.

Fumikage Tokoyami

Training was getting rough and the class was all spread about, training their abilities with the help of Ectoplasm. As per Aizawa's instructions, Ana had to train using her quirks and keeping herself moving even in uneven terrain. So, as Cimentoss had made various platforms, Ana was running around healing whoever needed it. Suddenly a scream echoed and Ana bolted in that direction with no hesitation. Arriving there, Tokoyami stumbled out of the dark cave, his arm bleeding.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here. Let me see." Ana was kneeling down next to the boy who was still shaking.

"I'm sorry. This is nothing, I'm fine. Dark Shadow just got a bit enthusiastic, that's all."

"Just shut up and let me help." Ana inspected the cut and determined it wasn't too deep so it wouldn't need too much to heal. She was about to do her job when a whimper caught her attention. Behind the boy, there was a shadow with sad eyes looking worried at its owner. He tried to reassure his friend he was alright but it wouldn't listen.

"Hey, buddy. Look!" Ana caught the shadow's attention as she placed a kiss on the boy's arm and the cut faded. "Everything's alright, see? He's all good!"

Ana patted the shadow who chirped happily at her. Tokoyami apologize a thousand times but Ana ignored it and reassured him it was her job to help out. After this, Ana would help him calm down Dark Shadow when it was worried about him or even let her play with it from time to time. Most would say he didn't care either way and probably thought it was good control training, but he was actually happy about it.

Shoto Todoroki

Ana was complaining to Deku and Ururaka about how her tea got cold on the way to class. Todoroki overhears, grabs the cup, and heats it up. Ana decides to have his children.

It was lunchtime and Deku had witnessed Ana fight during the mock battle training and insisted on her telling him all about it, joined by Uraraka and Tenya. They were sitting in class and Ana was telling them all about the training Aizawa had put her through.

"Ana... I think that's child abuse..." Uraraka said with a concerned look on her face.

"Nah, it was fine! It wasn't that bad." Ana reached for her cup but froze upon touching it. "Oh no, my tea went cold... I hate cold tea..." She pouted sadly.

"Don't be sad! We can go get another one if you want. It's my fault it got cold anyway." Deku suggested.

Ana was about to accept when a hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed her cup. Soon, the cup began to warm up and the water started to steam. Looking up, she saw the red and white-haired boy looking down on her. He offered a small smile before placing the mug back down.

"Is this good enough?" Ana nodded still mesmerized by the boy. "You don't have to be sad anymore then."

With that, Todoroki walked away leaving a gawking Ana behind. His cool but gentle demeanor completely enchanting the girl.

"Ana... Are you ok?" Uraraka broke whatever spell Ana was in.

"What? Oh, I'm fine. I think I just got my heart completely smashed to pieces by whoever the hell that was but I'm fine."

From then on out, it was girl talk. Tenya and Deku were chased out and were replaced by Mina and Tsuyu as the girls started gossiping about Todoroki and what they thought about him. He became Ana's secret crush and she would admire him from afar. They would occasionally talk but she didn't trust herself around him without some kind of restrain, especially since Todoroki wasn't a big fan of socializing and Ana had no concept of personal space. Either way, she would often ask him to heat up her tea when she forgets about it.

Toru Hagakure

Also during lunch, she was one of the girls that asked a lot of questions about Ana's grandma. She was way more energetic than Ana could ever imagine and they hit it off fairly quickly, even if Ana found it tough to talk to Toru.

"I'm sorry but I have to say this..." Ana stopped Toru mid-sentence. "I'm really sorry if I stare too much at you, it's just hard for me to understand you. I've lived my life reading peoples expressions and, well... You know what I'm getting at! So it's a bit hard for me to understand but I'm sure I'll get used to it. I'm sorry and please bear with me."

Toru was surprised but relieved. Ana was staring at her with such intense eyes she thought Ana was offended or something. Thankfully, Ana was just worried. When Toru asked why she read people like that, Ana explained that thanks to the nature of her quirk she tends to get closer than she should since she's so used to it and didn't want to make people uncomfortable so she learned how to know what people are feeling.

Toru was touched by her thoughtfulness and reassured the girl she'd tell her if anything bothered her. What excited her was how well Ana could read other people. The girls would often have fun during lunch where Ana would tell Toru what she guessed the conversations were about by reading lips and emotions and Toru would confirm it using her invisibility to get close and eaves-drop. Was it right to listen in on other peoples' conversations? No, but it was fun!

Minoru Mineta

He's not part of this universe. :)

Momo Yaoyorozu

Makes Ana a new uniform when she gets to class in her gym clothes after the bullying scene.

Momo noticed Ana in her gym clothes during class and as soon as it was over she called her classmate over to talk to her about it.

"Ana, I'm sorry about this but you can't hang around in your gym clothes. You need to wear your uniform properly, those are the rules..."

"Oh. Well, my uniform got soaked and I had to change... Honestly, I think I might burn it honestly."

Momo was ready to scold her classmate but Ana continued, explaining what happened at lunch. Momo was shocked there were students like that at U.A. but Ana reminded her of Bakugo. They agreed that judging people is hard. Momo felt guilty for calling out Ana after what happened. Taking a look around to make sure no one notices, the girl materializes a copy of the uniform and offers it to Ana.

"Oh, my God! Momo, you can't do that!" Ana whispered, also checking to make sure no one saw it.

"It's okay! I feel bad for what happened and for calling you out... I'm sorry so just take it."

"Are you sure?" Momo nodded with a smile. "Thank you, really... I'd go change but I've had enough of bathroom encounters for today."

They both laughed at that but Momo offered to go with her, just to make sure nothing happened. Ana noticed her concerned and told her about the fights she'd win, which Momo took as Ana being a troublemaker. Either way, both girls understood each other and both knew the other would have their back.

[MASTERLIST]

[henry-hart]

“Adventures in Sleeping Over” - a HD one-shot part 1

yes, that is a lame play on “Adventures in Babysitting” akskjslksj

Requested by: @kiwikwami

“Even though I’m terrible at coming up with ideas I wanted to suggest something anyway. How about the trio having a sleepover? That would be cute~”

Dedicated to: well, for starters @kiwikwami bc she sent me the request that sparked this idea and then to all my other friends @sunbeameyes @up-the-tube @youngbloodthekilljoy @ramune-ray @sleepylilsnowflake @shonashee @writing-excuses @chewbaccaagainstthoughts @coldasalaska @periwinklechild @an-anxious-gay-mess @lesbian-so-what @x-cookies-art-x @can-you-believe-it @alissamikealson @knowwheretolook @thehotbrothburglar @jyrus-kelevra @ishouldbsleeping

Fandom: Henry Danger

Summary: When Mr. and Mrs. Hart go out for date night, Henry invites Jasper and Charlotte over for a sleepover. No parents. No little sister. Just the three of them alone in the Hart house--or so they thought. Piper was supposed to be at a sleepover of her own, but there’s been a change of plan. Now Henry and his friends are stuck sharing the house with Piper and her two friends. Piper and her gang claim upstairs, and Henry and his gang claim downstairs. When the trio decides to sneak out, they discover that little Piper has a scheme of her own. Their paths cross, and suddenly it becomes a race to see who can make it back home before the parents do, granting that sibling the chance to rat out the other. ;) (it’s kind of inspired by a movie called “Sleepover”--appropriately lolol--with Alexa Vega.)

A/N: I’m so glad you requested this! My mind went into overdrive with all kinds of ideas for it, so I decided to make you this one-shot. I hope you like it! It’s just gonna be a little fun fic. Nothing serious. Nothing too deep. Just a silly little fic. :))))) ***I also want to say that this will be 10000% platonic and cute and not AT ALL inappropriate or creepy. I don’t know if anyone was thinking I’d go down that route (I sure hope not), but I just felt like it should go on record that I’m not making this anything it shouldn’t be. xoxoxoxoxo

"Mom! The oven beeped!" Henry yelled from his spot on the couch. 

"Will you get it for me please?" His mom yelled back from upstairs in her room.

She was getting ready for a dinner party she and Mr. Hart were attending that was put on by Jake's boss. She didn't want to go--her husband's work friends were real bores--but it was their first time going out in a long time and she knew it meant a lot to Jake that she be there. So, she had curled her hair, put her makeup on, and gotten the dress she hadn't worn in a year out from the back of her closet, ready to spend the night listening to a bunch of contractors and project managers drone on and on.

Jake had also promised her a romantic night after the dinner, so there was some incentive for her to make it through the party. 

"Sure," she heard Henry call back in response.

Siren grabbed one of her earrings and looped the silver hoop through her ear. She grabbed the other earring but stopped when her daughter appeared in the doorway. She studied Piper in the mirror. Her arms were crossed and her nostrils flared. 

"Ooh, that is not a happy face." She went back to putting her earring in. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Gabby's parents canceled her sleepover." Piper huffed, walking into her parent's bedroom to plop on their bed.

"They did? Why?"

She threw herself back on the mattress. "Her dumb Dad busted a water pipe while jazzercising and flooded their basement."

"Oh?" Siren had a hard time finding the connection between jazzercise and water pipes, but she didn't point it out to her obviously agitated daughter.

"Yeah. Now I have nowhere to go."

Mrs. Hart took a few steps back from the mirror, doing a few last minute touch ups on her hair. "Well, you can stay here with your brother and his friends."

"Gross. Why would I want to do that?"

"Because your friend's basement is flooded and you don't have any other options."

"Ugh, but I don't want to be here with Henry and his loser friends all night." Piper complained. 

When she said 'loser friends' she really just meant Jasper. She liked Charlotte, but even still she didn't want to spend all night being the awkward fourth wheel to whatever little party they were having. 

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, sweetie. Your father and I are leaving in a few minutes, and we can't take you with us." She gave a little spin in front of her daughter. "What do you think? Not bad for your old mom, huh?"

She was wearing an old dress she didn't wear often. It was a deep purple color--the right color for going out at night--and was long enough to drag the ground if she didn't wear heels. She of course would be wearing heels tonight, though. The V neckline wasn't too plunging, and the fabric was soft and comfortable. It really was a gorgeous dress, and she felt incredible in it.

Piper rolled her eyes and sat up. "Sure, Mom. You look great. Now can we get back to my problem please?"

Mrs. Hart pursed her lips, not liking her daughter's attitude. "I could always ground you so that you have no choice but to stay here."

Piper jumped off the bed, flying to her mother's side. "No, don't do that. You look beautiful. That dress looks really good on you." She blurted, hoping it was enough damage control.

Mrs. Hart smirked, looking at herself in the mirror once more. "It does." She smoothed her hands over the soft material. "I can't remember why I stopped wearing it."

Piper wasn't really listening to her mom now that she knew she wouldn’t be grounded. She was trying to come up with a solution to her current problem; it was Friday night, and she didn't have any plans. There was also the matter of what she and her friends had arranged for later tonight. She wouldn't be able to see that through if she was stuck at home with her brother watching her every move. 

Unless...

"I have an idea." She spoke then, slowly smiling as it all started to fall into place in her mind. 

Mrs. Hart didn't like the look on her daughter's face: narrowed eyes, sly smile. It meant trouble. "Am I going to like this idea, or is it going to be more like that time you tried to get rid of Henry at Disneyworld?" She went to her closet to get her heels out.

"You're going to like it. It's perfectly innocent." Piper assured, crossing her fingers behind her back where her mother couldn't see them. "And, for the record, I wasn't trying to get rid of Henry." Her mom stuck her head out of the closet to raise an eyebrow at her. "I was trying to sell him."

-----------

"Did you bake cookies?" Henry asked over his shoulder when he heard his mom coming down the stairs. He was taking the cookies off the pan and putting them on a large plate. 

"I did." His mom answered, the click of her heels telling him that she was joining him in the kitchen. 

"Why? Aren't you and Dad leav--" he turned around once all the cookies were on the plate to see his mother all dressed up for tonight. "Wow, Mom, you look great."

Henry used the same words Piper had, but there was much more sincerity in her son's voice. Siren smiled wide, making her way to him.

She reached out for Henry's hands, giving them a little squeeze. "Really? You think?"

Henry nodded, smiling back. "Really. I haven't seen you wear that dress in awhile."

His mom swung their hands between them. "I know, and I can't seem to remember why I stopped wearing it."

She had the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that there was an important reason she had moved it to the back of her closet, but she couldn't think of any explanation--especially when it looked this good on her--so she just dismissed it entirely.

"Well, I think it was a good idea to get it out again." 

Siren made a sound in the back of her throat, a little choked up by her son's kindness. She let go of one of his hands to reach forward and brush the hair away from his forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart." She noticed that he was still a good bit taller than her even with her heels on. He was growing up right before her eyes. 

Henry let go of his mom's hand and reached for the chocolate chip cookies he had taken out of the oven. He offered one to his mom. "So, about these cookies--"

She took the cookie from him, taking a bite while being careful not to mess up her lipstick. "I baked them for you and your friends." She said around the food in her mouth.

Henry took a bite of his own cookie. "Thanks, Mom, but you really didn't have to. We have pizza on the way."

She shrugged. "I just want you all to have enough food."

"You ordered three pizzas. We're gonna have more than enough food."

"That's good." She looked away from him, not sure how to say this next part.

Henry noticed his mom was avoiding looking him directly in the eyes. "Mom, what's up?"

Mrs. Hart set her cookie down, dusting the crumbs from her hands with a sigh. "Hen, honey, I hate to do this to you, but your sister is staying here tonight after all."

"What? Why? I thought she was staying at a friend's house." He was a little bummed that his little sister would be around when he thought it was just going to be him and his friends, but it wasn't too terrible. She'd probably stay in her room and avoid all of them anyway. 

"Her friend's basement got flooded--something about exercising and some water pipes--so she asked if they could stay over here. I know you and your friends had planned to have the house tonight, but I was hoping you'd be okay with things being moved over here."

Henry was only half listening--he didn't care if Piper was staying or leaving either way--but something she said caught his attention. "Wait, did you say they?"

Mrs. Hart nodded, her brows furrowing. "Yes, Piper, Gabby, and a little girl I haven't met before are having their sleepover here as well."

Henry's mouth fell open. This was definitely going to ruin his plans with Jasper and Charlotte. He could just see how tonight would play out: Henry Hart's babysitting service. There was no way he was going to be able to just hang out with his friends when there would be three twelve year-olds milling about. 

"Mom, this isn't fair. I already called dibs on the house tonight." He protested, dropping his half-eaten cookie on the plate. He didn’t feel like finishing it anymore.

Mrs. Hart grimaced, looking pained. She didn't want to ask her son to give up his plans anymore than he wanted to, but the girls needed somewhere to stay. "I know, Henry, and I'm sorry, but Gabby's parents had to leave their house while the plumbing gets fixed. Piper suggested she come stay at our house, and I said yes."

"What about the other girl? Is her basement flooded too?"

Mrs. Hart thought about it for a second. "I don't think so, but Piper gave me this really long explanation about the girl feeling left out if she wasn't invited too and you know how your sister's rambling gives me headaches."

Henry nodded, feeling one of those headaches coming on right now--and Piper wasn't even in the room. "Okay, yeah, I guess I understand." He sighed. "You and Dad are okay leaving all these kids alone while you're gone?"

His mom grabbed her purse, rummaging through it for her lipstick. "We're not leaving them alone.  You'll be here."

Henry licked his lips, letting out a short scoff. "So I'm babysitting."

"No, you're not babysitting." She pulled her lipstick out along with a circle mirror. "I just trust the girls will be okay with you in the house." She rubbed the red color on her lips, touching up a coat that didn't really need touching up. 

It was more of a nervous gesture. She was nervous about going out when she hadn’t in so long, nervous because she couldn't remember the reason she had hid this dress, and nervous that her son was mad at her for okaying Piper's friends to come over. 

"I guess three pizzas doesn't seem like so much now." 

Siren looked away from her lipstick and the little mirror and smiled, admiring her son's ability to find the positive in any situation. She reached a hand out to cup his cheek. "Exactly. Besides, you won't need to watch them much. They're all twelve. Just make sure Piper doesn't bite any of them, and the rest should be good."

Henry chuckled despite the annoyance he felt. He couldn't really be mad at his mother. She was just being a mother, looking out for the girls. He didn't want her to feel bad for that. He would be okay. Jasper and Charlotte wouldn't mind, and his mother was right. There really wasn't any need for the two groups to mix. If Piper's friends were anything like her, then Henry probably wouldn't even see them. They'd disappear in her room, and he and his friends would be free to resume with their own hanging out.

"You're right. Sorry I got mad." 

His mom shook her head. "It's alright. I knew it was asking a lot of you, so thank you for being so understanding." She held her arm up, checking the watch on her left wrist. "Your father better get a move on or we'll be late."

As if on cue, Mr. Hart came down the stairs, dressed in one of his spiffy suits and speaking loudly. "Siren, honey, we've got to go or we'll be late."

Mrs. Hart turned to her son, and they shared similar exasperated expressions.

"Really now," she muttered, grabbing up her purse and joining her husband at the front door. "Piper, we're leaving." She called up the stairs. 

"'Kay!" Piper called back. 

Mr. and Mrs. Hart waited for more, but Piper didn't say anything else. They looked at each other and shook their heads. This wasn’t atypical of their youngest child.

Mrs. Hart turned back to her son. "Okay, you have my cell phone number." She told Henry as Mr. Hart helped her put on her black wrap.

"Of course I do, Mom." Henry replied with a slight mocking tone. "Pretty sure it was one of the first numbers in my phone."

"Don't be smart with me. There's going to be a lot of people in this house, and we won't be here."

Henry grabbed his dad's car keys and handed them to him, practically pushing the two of them through the front door. "I know, and you have nothing to worry about. I can handle Piper and her friends, and Charlotte and Jasper will help."

His parents nodded. 

"Make sure you lock both doors. We have a key, so you don't need to answer the door for anyone." His dad stressed, eyebrows raised as he watched his son, trying to get his point across. He was also nervous about leaving Piper and her friends in Henry's care.

He didn't doubt that his son was capable. He just knew his daughter and what she was like. Few people were equipped to handle someone like her.

"Guys, really, I'll be fine. This isn't the first time I've been in charge and had to watch Piper."

"Of course, Hen. We know." His mom stepped forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Call me if you need anything, anything at all."

Henry wiped the lipstick from his cheek with a slight cringe. "Will do, Mom."

"Remember to lock the doors," his dad reiterated. 

"Got it, Dad."

"Did you turn the oven off?"

"You do know where the first aid kit is, right?"

"Okay, seriously? Go." Henry commanded, starting to close the door for emphasis. 

"Love you!" He heard his parents say as the door closed. 

"You too," he answered, shaking his head at their ridiculous concerns.

He kept the door unlocked for now. His friends--and Piper's, unfortunately--would be arriving any minute.

-----------        

The doorbell rang, and Henry got up from the couch to answer it. He opened the door, leaning a forearm on the frame and crossing one foot in front of the other as he gave a lazy smile to his best friends.      

"Jasper, Charlotte, I was wondering when you guys were--" Henry stopped when he realized it wasn't his friends standing on his porch. Instead, a small brunette girl who looked about Piper's age stood there, holding a pillow. She looked vaguely familiar to him. He was sure he’d gone to her birthday party before or something. "You must be Gabby." He concluded.

The little girl looked up at Piper's older brother, eyes widening when she saw how cute he was. Piper had only ever vaguely mentioned Henry. She never told Gabby that he was totally crush-worthy.

Gabby nodded rapidly. "H-Henry, right?" She stammered, feeling her cheeks get warm.

Henry leaned into the arm he had propped up so he could rub a hand over his forehead. He recognized the look on Gabby's face. It was the same look he had gotten from Piper's other friends and even the Game Shakers when they'd stayed at his house; it was the "I’m-totally-getting-a-crush-on-you" look, and Henry really didn't want to have to deal with that tonight. It made him uncomfortable, and this girl would be staying at his house for the rest of the day. He wouldn't be able to get away from her wide-eyed stare.

"Yeah, it's Henry." He answered with a sigh. He moved to the side to make room for her to walk past him. "Come on in. Piper's upstairs."

Gabby took small, timid steps forward into the Hart house, all the while watching Henry instead of where she was going. She tripped over the threshold, barely regaining her footing in time to keep from falling. She looked away from Henry now, embarrassed that she'd goofed in front of him. 

Henry really wasn't paying attention anyway. He was more concerned with getting his little sister downstairs so she could occupy Gabby before the other girl arrived and he was stuck being the main attraction for the two twelve year-olds. 

"Piper!" He yelled up the stairs. 

"What?" She screamed back, sounding incredibly irritated.

Henry jerked his head back, surprised by her tone. "Jeez," he muttered to himself. "Gabby's here!"

Piper didn't respond, but Henry did hear the sound of her footsteps running from her room. "Gabby," she breathed when she was at the top of the stairs, smiling pleasantly, her mood completely changing. 

Henry shook his head at his sister's capricious nature, but he didn't have time to comment because the doorbell rang again. This time, he didn't answer it with a greeting to his friends, expecting it to be Piper's other friend. 

It was Jasper, holding a sleeping bag roll under one arm and board games under the other, clad in his pajamas. He was smiling so wide it looked painful.

"Hey, Hen!"

Henry stared at the ducks on Jasper's onesie. "Hey, Jasper," he started slowly. "Dude, you know you could've just worn regular clothes, right?"

Jasper's brows knitted together. "But it's a sleepover."

"Well, yeah, but it's not like we're gonna be sleeping the whole time--and don't call it a sleepover." He added, not liking how juvenile 'sleepover' sounded. Piper was having a sleepover. Henry was having friends over to hang out. "You're just spending the night at my house."

"I know. I'm sleeping over." Jasper said, winking pointedly at Henry.

"Dude, what did I just say?"

"Henry! Where's the pizza?" Piper yelled across the living room.

Henry motioned for Jasper to come in before he shut the door. He turned to face his little sister and her friend, who was once again staring at Henry. "Not here yet, Piper."

"Well, when will it be here?"

"I don't know, Piper."

"You don't know anything." She huffed, grabbing onto Gabby's arm. "Come on, Gabby. Let's go upstairs."

Gabby's face fell a little. She pulled against Piper's grip. "But--why can't we stay down here?"

Piper scowled at her. "Why would we want to?"

Gabby bit her lip, refraining from telling Piper the real reason she didn't want to go upstairs. She knew Piper wouldn't understand. "No reason."

Piper wasn't convinced. She knew there was something Gabby wasn't telling her, and she suspected it had something to do with her brother. Piper was cursed with an older brother her friends all found cute. She didn't have an opinion either way--why would she--but it was annoying when her friends all wanted to talk and talk and talk about how "good Henry's hair looked" and "how tall Henry is" and "oh my gosh he totally smiled at me!" It was nauseating, and she wouldn't let Gabby fall into the Henry trap tonight. She needed her focused.

They had other things to worry about. 

Piper nodded once. "Good. Now let's go upstairs so we can discuss our plans."

Gabby's eyes widened, remembering what she and Piper and Lily--their other friend--decided they were going to do tonight. "Right, the plan."

Henry and Jasper looked at each other, both their faces scrunched up in confusion.

"What plan?" Henry asked, narrowing his eyes at his little sister, suspecting she was up to her regular no good ways.

Piper towed Gabby behind her to the stairs. "None of your business." She shot back in a sharp voice over her shoulder to Henry. 

She couldn't tell him. He'd either try to stop her or tell their parents, and she couldn't have that. 

Henry held his hands up in surrender. "Whoa, sorry I asked."

"Call me when Lily gets here." She said before the two of them disappeared up the stairs and around the corner.

Gabby cast one last longing glance at Henry. 

"That girl's got it bad for you." Jasper commented with a smirk. He knew how often Piper's friends developed crushes on Henry, and he found it amusing. 

"I know," Henry grunted. 

The doorbell rang again. 

Jasper scrunched his eyebrows together as Henry went to open the door. "This place is really popular tonight."                          

Henry didn't answer; he just opened to door to greet Charlotte and a girl he didn't recognize. He looked to Charlotte, eyebrows raised waiting for her to explain her friend.

"Don't look at me." She objected. "She was here before I got here."

Henry looked to the girl. Her sleek black hair was pulled into pigtails, making her look a lot sweeter than he was used to girls her age looking. Piper was to blame for that. 

"What's your name?" He asked gently, bending down a little to be at the girl's level. 

"Lily. I'm a friend of Piper's."  She managed, despite how breathless being this close to Piper's brother made her. 

When Piper had said she had an older brother, Lily expected Henry to be a lot like her older brother--a short, geeky shut-in. Henry was none of these. He was tall, cute, and Lily imagined he was pretty popular. She was standing next to someone she assumed to be his friend, and a girl no less, so he had to have some level of charm. His smile was charming enough on its own.

She was glad the sleepover had been moved to Piper's house. It was going to be a lot more fun than she imagined now that Henry was in the picture. 

Henry straightened back up with an awkward cough. Lily was looking at him with a similar gleam in her eyes that Gabby had. He really couldn't catch a break. 

Charlotte noticed that Lily was hardly blinking, her eyes trained on Henry. She held back a laugh, but a small chuckle escaped her lips anyway. 

Henry gave her a meaningful glare and gestured for the two girls to come in. "Piper and Gabby are upstairs. I can call them down, if you want."

Lily walked into the living room, spinning around to get a full view of the place. She gripped the straps of her bag, turning back to face Henry. "Or you could show me the way to her room." She suggested in a tone that really didn’t leave room for disagreeing.

Charlotte and Jasper both snorted from behind Henry. He ignored them and focused instead on the little girl watching him. Lily wasn't as bashful as Gabby had been. She was staring right at Henry, a sly smile on her lips, waiting for him to answer. 

"Or I could show you the way to her room," Henry repeated, a little shocked that Lily was so assertive at such a young age. He drummed his fingers on his legs before motioning a hand towards the stairs. "Lead the way."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "It's your house."

Henry mentally face-palmed himself. "Right. My house. I'll lead the way." He corrected. 

He could hear Charlotte and Jasper laughing from behind him, but he didn't look at them. He didn't need any further embarrassment.

Lily followed Henry, keeping a very small distance between them all the way to Piper's room. 

Henry knocked on Piper’s door, giving Lily a small, uncomfortable smile. No one answered. Henry knocked again, harder this time. "Piper, open up." He urged, not liking that he was stuck spending more time alone with his sister’s bold friend.

Lily twisted back and forth a little bit, trying to appear nonchalant. "So, is that girl downstairs your girlfriend?"              

Henry nearly fell over. "Uh, no," he cleared his throat. "Charlotte is just my friend."

"Oh," Lily remarked, a smile spreading across her face. "So, no girlfriend then?"

"No, no girlfriend," Henry repeated quickly, knocking on Piper's door again, even harder than before. "Piper, please, please, open the door." 

The door whipped open revealing one annoyed Piper.

"What do you want?" She barked at her brother.

“Lily is here." Henry stressed, darting eyes in the direction of the girl standing next to him, hoping his sister would pick up on his obvious discomfort.

Piper looked over to Lily as if just seeing her. "Oh, hey girl."

Lily nodded to Piper. "Hey, Pipes." She looked back at Henry. "You didn't tell me your brother was so cute."

Henry and Piper both cringed in sync.

"I'm gonna go back downstairs." Henry announced, backing away from the girl with the misleading pigtails.

"Good. You and your friends stay down there." Piper ordered, crossing her arms and cocking a hip to the side. 

"Okay, well you and your friends stay up here." Henry sassed back.

“Fine."

"Fine."

There was an awkward beat of silence. Piper stared down Henry. Lily was gazing at Henry, and Henry was avoiding looking at either of them. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna--"

"Would you just go already?" Piper snapped, cutting Henry off.

He made a mocking face before disappearing down the hall and to the stairs, joining Charlotte and Jasper downstairs.

"What an idiot," Piper dismissed, walking back into her room. 

Lily watched still where Henry had disappeared. "Yeah," she sighed blissfully.

Piper rolled her eyes, understanding that yet again one of her friends was infatuated with her brother. She grabbed Lily by the arm, pulling her into the room and closed the door behind them.

-----------

"Shouldn't we tell Piper and her friends that the pizza's here?" Charlotte asked, grabbing a slice of cheese pizza and putting it on her plate. 

Henry grabbed his own slice of pepperoni and cast a glance at the stairs. "Nah," he decided. "They'll be okay up there in the room and away from me."

Charlotte eyed him. "Without anything to eat?"

"Maybe they'll eat each other." Jasper chimed in absently, picking some onions off his slice. 

"Dude," Henry protested, "Morbid." Jasper only shrugged, and Henry continued on. "No, I know. It's just--they keep...staring at me."

Charlotte shook her head. "They're twelve, Hen, and you're the older brother. It gives you a sort of untouchable charm. That's all." She bit into her pizza. The cheese stretched out ridiculously, sticking to her chin and dangling down to her plate. 

Henry handed her a napkin. "I'd like to think it's part of my normal charm, too." He muttered. Jasper and Charlotte gave him the same unimpressed look. "You're right. Just let me enjoy a few more seconds of not having to feel like someone is always watching me." Three seconds went by. "I'll call them down."

Henry texted Piper this time. He really didn't feel like yelling up the stairs again--it'd be like the fourth time that night--and Piper was more likely to respond this way.

Twenty seconds later, Piper and her two friends were on their way down the stairs. 

"You better have saved some spinach pizza for me!" Piper called, running into the kitchen to make sure her pizza was still there.

"Don't worry, Piper, I didn't let anyone eat your spinach pizza." Henry grimaced as Piper grabbed a slice. "I don't think anyone wanted to."

"I don't even want to hear it Mr. 'I like pineapple on pizza'."

"Okay, that was once, and I didn't even like it."

“What's wrong with pineapple on pizza?" Jasper wondered, obviously offended. 

"Just everything," Charlotte answered. "Fruit doesn't belong with pizza sauce. That's just gross."

Piper nodded, gesturing to Charlotte. "Thank you."

"What about you guys?" Charlotte asked Lily and Gabby, while eating her regular, ordinary, not gross cheese pizza. "Where do you stand on the pineapple on pizza discourse?"

Gabby was nervously playing with an olive on her plate, but she looked up at Charlotte when she realized she was talking to her. "Oh, I--I'm allergic to pineapple, so it's a no from me."

Charlotte gave Jasper a pointed look as another person joined her anti-pineapple coalition. Jasper stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. 

"What about you, Lily? You think it's okay for pineapple to go on pizza, right?" Jasper asked, leaning forward in his seat, waiting to hear her opinion.

Lily, a lot more confident than Gabby, was watching Henry again, but she snapped her attention to the one named Jasper who was, oddly enough, wearing a baby outfit that was covered in ducks. She found him strange. "What? Oh, no I don't think so."

Jasper sank in his seat, defeated. 

"Okay, I think I've heard the word pineapple enough for one night." Henry announced. A creepy sensation ran down the back of his neck, making the hairs stand up; he could feel Lily's eyes on him. He stood up from his seat, pushing it back a little too forcefully making it scrap the ground with a horrible screeching noise. "Anyone want a refill?" He held his half-full glass up in the air, trying to recover from the chair incident and provide an explanation for standing up.

"You don't even need a refill." Charlotte noted, her eyes narrowing at Henry’s odd behavior. 

He looked at his cup, realizing she was right. "No, I don't, but Jasper does."

Jasper raised his eyebrows, looking around at everyone before looking at his full glass. "No Jasper doesn't."

"Yes, he does." Henry reiterated through clenched teeth, whipping a hand out to knock over Jasper's drink.

Jasper jumped up as root beer spilled into his lap. "Henry!" 

"See," Henry grabbed the empty glass. "Jasper needs a refill."

He grabbed Jasper's arm and pulled him into the kitchen with him, ignoring everyone else's puzzled looks. 

"What was that?" Jasper demanded. He was mad. His favorite onesie was now stained with soda. 

Henry gave his friend a few paper towels. "I'm sorry, man. Lily kept looking at me, and it was making my skin crawl."

"So what?" Jasper hissed, wiping his pajamas down with harsh, angry strokes. "She was staring at me too."

Henry motioned to Jasper's clothes. "That probably has more to do with the fact that you're covered in little rubber ducks."

“Yeah, well, I won’t be wearing it anymore.” He clipped, throwing his balled up dirty napkin on the counter, giving up on getting the soda out of his clothes. “Why don’t you just ignore her?”

“I’m trying to, but I can feel--” Henry stopped. He was looking around the kitchen and accidentally locked eyes with Lily. He gave her a short wave and a tight-lipped smile. He turned back to Jasper. “See?”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Once they’re done eating, Piper’s gonna make them go back upstairs, so you won’t have to see her for much longer.”

“True.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at one of the stains on Jasper’s clothes. “Sorry, dude. You brought a change of clothes, right?”

Jasper nodded. “Yeah, but they’re not pajamas.” He mumbled. 

“That’s even better.”

Jasper glared at Henry, but he left anyway to change out of his onesie. 

Lily noticed Jasper had left. “Why are you standing over there alone?” She asked, sitting up straighter in her seat. 

“Oh, I was--” Henry searched around looking for something to busy himself with. He grabbed a salt shaker. “I was just refilling the salt shaker.”

“Okay, well why don’t you come join us?” She patted the empty seat next to her. 

“Join you. At the table. In the seat right...next...to you.” He ran a hand down his face. “Don’t you and my sister have some plans to figure out or something?” He blurted.

Piper perked up. “That’s right. We do.” She dropped the crust she wasn’t interested in eating on her plate and stood up. “Come on girls. We’ve got some planning to do.”

Gabby smiled a small, timid smile and got up out of her seat as well. Lily didn’t want to leave Henry, but she really didn’t want to fight Piper. She stood too. 

When the girls were gone, Henry joined Charlotte at the table. 

“What plans are they talking about?” She asked him, frowning at the suspicious way the girls whispered among themselves as they left. 

Henry plopped down in his seat, sighing in relief now that he wasn’t being watched like a zoo animal anymore. “I have no idea, and I don’t really care.”

“Aren’t you worried? I mean, this is Piper we’re talking about.” She pointed out. If anywhere were to devise some devious scheme, it would be Piper Hart. 

Henry shrugged, picking a piece of pepperoni off his pizza and popping it into his mouth. “Not really. My parents have the car, so it’s not like she can drive off anywhere. Whatever their planning, it’s staying in the house, and that’s good enough for me.” He leaned back in his chair. “They’re probably just gonna talk about boys they like or something.” 

He didn’t care what his sister and her friends did as long as they stayed safe and stayed in the house. He just hoped he wasn’t one of the topics of their conversations.

Charlotte pursed her lips. She didn’t agree with Henry’s indifference to his sister and her friend’s actions. Charlotte had a hunch that whatever was going on it wasn’t good. 

-----------

“Okay, so we’re all clear on what to do, right?” Piper asked, staring meaningfully at her two friends, wanting to make sure they were all on the same page. 

Lily nodded, her pigtails swooshing back and forth beside her face. “Yep. At nine o’clock, we put these dolls in our sleeping bags,” she held her life-size doll up. “And if anyone comes to check on us, it’ll look like we’re sleeping.”

Piper nodded with proud smile. “Correct. Then what happens next? Gabby?”

Gabby wasn’t as shy now that they weren’t around Henry. Her voice was loud and clear, and she looked right back into Piper’s eyes as she spoke. “Then you call us a Tuber, and we sneak out the window. We get in the car and take a ride to the Swellview Convention Center.”

“And you-know-who will be there.” Piper concluded, giggling excitedly. She had been planning this for a week.

Originally, they were going to sneak out of Gabby’s house, and Piper would just drive one of her parents’ cars, but that idea had been scrapped when Gabby’s dad flooded the basement. Piper thought they would have to miss out on the event they were all so looking forward to, but then her mom had told her her friends could spend the night at their house.

She had to work something out in the way of transportation considering her parents had taken the car, but she remembered she was owed a favor by a certain Tuber driver, so she called to collect that favor tonight. 

In a few hours, the girls would be off, and Henry and Piper’s parents would be none the wiser. 

----------

A/N Part 2: What do you guys think??? What do you think of Piper’s friends??? I loved writing their bits. It was so much fun to tease Hen for being the “cute older brother.” alskjslkjs (remember when Jace was young so Hen was the one having crushes but now he’s gone and grown up and become one of Nick’s oldest kid actors so Hen is the one being crushed on??? yeah, it hurts my heart a little) There’s gonna be more info in the next part as to what Piper and her friends are sneaking out for bc the trio is sneaking out for the same thing hee hee. This is probs gonna be three parts? Maybe? I’m never good at guessing those things, but I know it won’t be long. Hope you liked it! Please, tell me what you thought! You can reply, reblog, message me--anything! Just let me know somehow! Much love! xoxoxo

P.S. “Tuber” is a play on “Uber” if you were confused. You know how Nick likes to avoid using the actual names for copyright comedic reasons. There’s the “Yo-Pro” cameras and the “Air TnP” on Game Shakers, so I figured I’d stick with the source and make my own goofy replacement word. ;)

[coolepowersthings]

Practical Magic

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Note: So, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and it’s just a little imagine. Feedback always welcome. As with most things, I have no idea what I’m doing lol.

Sirius Black gave an annoyed sigh and pushed his hair out of his face. It was rare to see Black in the library, and even more surprising to see him actually studying. You had noticed him sit down at the table next to yours almost immediately, and since his entrance into your peripheral vision he had become quite the distraction, with all his hair flopping and exasperated noises. You couldn’t tell exactly what he was reading, but clearly whatever it was had him frustrated.

“Those words too big for you, Black?” you asked. “I think they keep some early readers behind Madam Pomfrey’s desk. I’m sure you could ask her for them.”

Sirius just glared at you.

“Oh, sod off Y/N,” he said. “You know I can read. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be running circles around you in defense.”

You rolled your eyes. You and Sirius had bantered like this for years. You appreciated that he could be witty, and you were pretty sure he liked that you gave his sass right back to him.

“Defense is more practical magic than anything else,” you said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Potter teaches you without you having to read a bloody word. I already know that Peter writes all of your essays.”

“Wormtail is a fine bloke,” Sirius mumbled, looking back down at his book. “And, I would note, you didn’t argue about me getting higher marks in defense. Glad to see you at least have a bone of humility in your body.”

You scoffed and shook your head.

“Always delusions of grandeur.”

Sirius smirked then and looked up at you. “Always,” he said.

“Shhhh!” said Madam Pomfrey, shooting you both a look from her place behind the desk. You pretended to look abashed and mouthed a silent “sorry” in her direction. Then, you swooped up your book and your bag, and quickly redeposited them on the table where Sirius sat.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” he said, watching as you sat down across from him.

“Well, let’s see it then.”

“Gosh Y/N, I never took you to be so forward. And in a public place! What will Madam Pomfrey think?” Sirius clutched at his heart with mock horror.

“Piss off, I mean that book that has you all annoyed. What is giving Sirius Black, wizard extraordinaire, such a hard time?”

Sirius wagged his eyebrows. “You know, I could give you a hard time.”

“Gah, I’m starting to remember why I avoid you at all costs. Hand it over, Sirius. If you’re going to huff and puff so obviously in the library, and distract a girl from her own studying, you have to be ready to face the consequences.”

Sirius frowned and then pushed the open text over to you. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. While you liked to tease him, you knew that Sirius’s grades were actually really excellent. You weren’t sure how, since he spent most of his time goofing off, but you supposed coming from the ancient and most noble house of Black must have its advantages, one of them being an inherent knack for magic. Having come from a purely muggle household yourself, you couldn’t imagine what it must be like to grow up knowing everything about the world that you hadn’t even known existed until age 11. Still, you were surprised when the book was under your nose and what you came face-to-face with wasn’t some high-level transfiguration work or even an especially tricky potions theory, but instead a picture of a ruffled looking plant.

“Herbology, Sirius? Really?” you asked.

His frown deepened.

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, I don’t think I even knew you were taking herbology. I don’t remember even seeing you in class…”

Sirius shot you a look that made you stop midsentence.

“Because you haven’t been coming to class. Seriously? What were you thinking? I mean, we’re halfway through term and I haven’t seen you in class at all!”

“I was there the first day,” he said, sounding bored. “But come on! Herbology is supposed to be a cake class! I didn’t think I was really missing much.”

“Some people take herbology because it’s actually useful, you know,” you said. “Do you know that there are plants that can help skin regrow? Plants that can clear up rashes, and be used to counteract enchantments?”

“Yes, yes, future healer, plants are important for you. So far, though, I still don’t see what makes them so interesting.”

You thought for a minute.

“There’s a plant that lets you breath underwater.”

Sirius perked up.

“Really?” he said. “No wonder Pomona is threatening to fail me. Even the cool ones I don’t know.”

“Professor Sprout is going to fail you? I didn’t think she’d ever failed anyone.”

“Well I’m not reading this book for the fun of it, now am I? Wanted to fail me immediately, to be honest, but Prongs convinced her to give me another chance so long as I know the material.” Sirius smiled sardonically and gestured to the book in front of you. “I have to pass a test on everything that’s been covered so far this year. So, if you don’t mind, I have…”

“Let me help you,” you blurted out, not entirely sure where it had come from. You could feel your face heating, and you snapped your head down to stare at the book, hoping Sirius hadn’t noticed. Taking a deep breath, and plastering a smirk on your face, you looked back up. “Come on Black. You’re a smart wizard, but you’re no herbologist. There’s no way you’re going to learn half a terms worth of material by yourself, especially not in…how long do you have?”

“A week.”

“Pfft, especially in a week. You may ‘run circles’ round me in defense, but you know I have the highest marks in our year in herbology.”

Sirius eyed you wearily.

“Why would you want to help me?” he said.

“Well, for starters, I can’t let you be the first student Professor Sprouts ever failed. Honestly, I think you’d end up taking pride in it and be even more of an ass.”

Sirius smirked. “I suppose I would find some way to see the bright side of the situation, yeah.”

“And maybe, once you pass, you could help me with some of the DADA work from the term? I’m having a hard time with the last counter curse we learned and I’m worried I can’t get the stance right.”

Sirius looked a bit taken aback, clearly shocked that you’d be willing to ask him for help on anything. But slowly he started nodding.

“Yeah, ok,” he said. “We’ll help each other. Sounds fair. Thanks Y/N. Tomorrow night?”

You smiled and nodded.

“But for the record, I can still run circles around you. Sexy circles. Naked circles,” Sirius said, wagging his eyebrows

“Ugh,” you cried, putting your face down on the book to hide your reddened cheeks again. “Why do I even bother?”

***

You had agreed to meet Sirius in the common room, but with midterm exams on the horizon it was already full when you arrived. A group of fourth years were sitting in front of the fire quizzing each other on potions ingredients. A couple of first years were standing by the windows, trying to get what you hoped was a chocolate frog to levitate.

“The library is probably full by now too,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I know where we can go,” said Sirius, taking your arm and pulling you through the portrait hole.

***

“Sirius, we could get in so much trouble,” you whispered, slipping behind him into the classroom and shutting the door.

“Nah, Minnie won’t care,” he said, setting his bag down on a nearby table in the empty transfiguration classroom. “And if she does show up, I’ll just explain you’re helping me not fail a class. Believe it or not, Y/N, she does like me some, you know. Tutoring might be one activity she actually approves of.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you scoffed.

Sirius smiled. “Some would call it charming.”

“Some would call it buffoonery. Come on, let’s get started.”

You spent the next four evenings with Sirius in the transfiguration classroom, reviewing your notes and quizzing him on plants. To your surprise, he picked it up fairly quickly. And spending time with him was not as terrible as you liked to make him think it was.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m impressed, Black,” you said, setting down your book. “I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, but I think you’re actually going to pass this test.”

Sirius beamed and stuck his quill behind his ear. “Like I said, I am a genius. You really should just take me for my word at this point, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok genius, let’s go over the list once more.”

You went to lift the book back up, but his large hand was suddenly covering yours. “Nope,” he said. “I’ve had enough herbology. Probably enough to last me the rest of my life. If we look at these notes for one more second, I think plants might start to grow out of my ears,” he tugged on his left lobe as if to demonstrate. “I may have devilishly good looks, but I don’t think even I could keep it up with mandrakes sprouting out of my head.”

“So what would you suggest?” you asked, terribly aware that his hand was still on top of your own. You hated to admit it to yourself, but Sirius wasn’t lying when he said he was handsome. Most girls in the school went mad for him, his gorgeous smile and his intense, grey eyes. You swore that his long dark hair looked like it would be softer than even yours, and a part of you really wanted to take it out of the bun he had messily put it in on top of his head so you could run your fingers through it. You even found his cocky, annoying attitude secretly appealing, although you’d never tell him that.

“Well, you need help with your counter curse stance, yeah? And we have this whole, big classroom to practice in.” He wrapped his fingers around yours and pulled you up out of your seat.

“So, let’s see what you’ve got. Wand out, come on.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, grabbing your wand and taking a steadying breath. You shook out your arms and tilted your neck to either side.

“I’m sorry, do you need to limber up a bit before you stop the next death eater that comes your way?”

“Oh quiet you, I just need a second to prep.”

“I haven’t got all night, y/l/n.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said. You tried to remember the picture from the book, moving your right foot a smidge back, raising your wand arm just so.

“Stop, stop,” he said. “Merlin, y/n, it’s a defensive spell, not a ballet!”

“Well, I’m trying to get it right! You heard Professor Medley, you have to get the stance just right or it won’t work.”

Sirius walked towards you, and you were ready for him to yell again, but instead he circled you, placing his hands on your waist.

“You have to feel a spell like this in your body,” he said, a bit quieter than he’d been before. “This kind of magic isn’t about memorizing facts or recognizing elements. You just have to know. It has to be instinct.”

“O-okay,” you said.

“Take a deep breath and close your eyes,” he said. His hands moving your waist an inch to the left, than grasping your right arm and lowering it just a touch. “Now, don’t think about it too much, just do it.”

“Protego,” you said in a whisper.

“You have to mean it, Y/N,” Sirius said. His voice seemed close to your ear, his breath fanning across the back of your neck. “Don’t make me hex you to get it out of you.” He chuckled, and it snapped you out of whatever trance he had you in. His hands were still on your body, but you’d be damned if he bested you at this. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes, the soles of your feet shifting slightly as you focused all of your energy on the spell.

“Protego,” you said again, louder this time. You could feel the energy flowing through you, the beginning of something coming from the tip of your wand. You knew it wasn’t at full strength, and would honestly probably not shield you from much, but it was still more than you had managed on your own.

You could almost hear the smile in Sirius’s voice when he said, “That a girl. Come on then, do it again.”

***

It took everything you had not to pace outside the greenhouses while Sirius took his test. Instead, you waited for him in the transfiguration classroom, practicing your defensive spells and hoping that you had reviewed everything enough for him to pass. He had laughed at you when you had threatened to cut off his hair if he failed the class.

“You wouldn’t touch these glorious locks!” he had all but shouted on his way out the door. “And I won’t fail, I had an excellent tutor.”

Still, you were anxious for him. You weren’t focusing very well and you were having a hard time getting your wand to cooperate, even with easy defense spells.

“Come on,” you said to yourself, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. “Focus.”

You took your stance, less ridged than it would have been a week ago, and raised your wand hand. But just as you went to cast the spell, you felt something heavy land on your shoulder. Startled, you turned and cast the spell that had been on the tip of your tongue already.

“Protego!”

Your wand pulsated with energy, and you could feel the shield, stronger than you’d ever produced, pulsating out of the tip of your wand and projecting outward. You almost laughed. It had actually worked! It took only a moment, though, for you to realize that whatever, or more importantly, whoever, had come up behind you was now sprawled several feet away on the floor.

“Sirius! Oh crap, oh no.” You ran towards the dark haired boy, kneeling next to his very still body. “Sirius?” You reached for his arm, and just as you wrapped your hand around him, you heard a loud, raucous laughter. The boy in front of you was laughing so hard he was shaking, his body twisting to the side, pushing you over with him as he went.

“Holy crap Sirius, you scared me half to death!” you said. Except instead of threatening, like you had hoped to sound, the words came out high and light as you started to join him in his infections laughter. The two of you lay there, giggling like idiots for several minutes more. Finally, when he could catch his breath, Sirius smiled at you.

“That was awesome, Y/N!” he said. “Don’t have to worry about you getting caught off-guard in a dark alley anymore, that’s for sure. Although apparently I should watch my back.”

“Well, you startled me! But oh my gosh, I actually did it!”

“You did at that. And, you’ll be happy to know, that you’ll have to keep studying with my sorry arse for the rest of the term, because I will be continuing my illustrious herbology career. Though I expect I’ll still need a tutor.”

“You passed!” you said, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug. “Oh Sirius, congratulations!”

Sirius chuckled, and you felt it vibrate through your body, realizing how close you were to him, still stretched out on the floor. You blushed, pulling back a bit, expecting to see his telltale smirk. But to your surprise, there was a look of fondness in his eyes.  

“Thank you, Y/N. Really. I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

You felt your blush spreading, down your neck and across your chest. It was like your whole body was on fire.

“Of course,” you said. “What are friends for?”

“Friends, huh?” he said. “I don’t know, Y/N, my original offer still stands. Although with that shield, maybe you’ll be running circles around me soon.”

“Sexy, naked circles?”

Sirius guffawed, pulling you in closer.

“If I could only be so lucky,” he said, before his lips crashed against your own.